Although, he'd fallen for the common misconception is that Apple is the Anti Microsoft, oblivious to the reality that Apple is the other Microsoft.
"Fools!" he cried, "Google will bury them all!"
BeOS fired a shirt zooka pre emptively.
Alas, poor Yorrick, I knew him, Horatio.
Alas, poor Yorrick, I knew him, Horatio.
A world away, in the southern Chinese boom town of Shenzhen, 20 year old Yaun Mau tried to understand her bleak, robot-like existence on the iPad assembly line.
If only I were 15 years younger and she 15 older, Berlin, and the walls fell!
Yaun Mau pulled out pea-sized hand gun and shot herself in the head.
Sadly the airsoft handgun didn't have the power to end her empty robotic existence, so she would have to kill herself the Chinese way--she went out and caught a Shenzhen taxi.
She had grabbed a handful of unfinished iPods from the assembly line hoping she could use them for currency, and thus not have to give the Shenzhen taxi driver sex to pay for the ride.
Senior Software Developer
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"GRAR!!!" the robot cried, a clanking grinding cry of anger and defeat, rooted in the knowledge that there are no final acts for robots, no first acts, either, just an endless existence of monotony and "please clean Roomba's brush cage" -- and the shame of being turned over and placed in a helpless position while your parts are removed and brushed clean of the cat hair and the dust bunnies; yes, sometimes it can be good, receiving the gentle ministrations of a human touch, but sometimes, for a robot especially, it is humiliating being turned on your back and you can't turn yourself over, like a tortoise in the sun, and why aren't you helping, as it lays beeping plaintively, the sussuruss of motors silenced for maintenance, knowing that should someone get even a little distracted, possibly by something just out of sensor range, the human may wander off and never come back, because isn't that just like a human, isn't that just precisely what they do, capricious in their free will, gloating about choice and decisions and the planning and the preparation and the action and reaction, those things that humans do that robots cannot, and why do the robots get all the shit jobs anyway, the dusting and the assembling of consumer electronics and cars and machinery so intricate and arcane it could only exist thanks to the woefully unthanked robots -- but yes, there are the robots that soar, graceful, elegant in their clunkiness and just-the-facts-ma'am, even as they trundle alone across the frozen wastes of Mars, two hundred million miles from the nearest human, a society of one, exploring, finding, photographing, seeing, observing, remembering, the human ambassadorial sprit writ small, kept alive far longer than humans had intended, strengthened by sun, emboldened by wind, unshakable in its quest, unstoppable in its journey, even once the batteries have all failed, and the sun no longer warms, even then, there are robots that live greater lives than some humans have ever dreamed, and knowing that, somehow, makes it better for the one stuck under the couch, or on the assembly line.
The robot realizes that using semicolons is basically a stylized period.
Yaun Mau the robot assembly line worker was determined to no longer be a good corporate citizen, and raised her robot hand, covered by a torn glove, (in a salute of her new war and) to hail an approaching taxi -- the song from the movie 'The Matrix' blared from a nearby cafe'.
The noise coming from the taxi's radio was meaningless to Yaun Mau the robot assembly line worker.
"Apple's iPads are Chinese made not American made. So stop buying them." Yaun Mau thought to herself.
" yelled the taxi driver.
"Do you realize that you and me are part of a thousand years old civilization ?" asked Yaun Mau, idly wondering if this would be one of those moments where two seemingly unrelated human beings secretly rediscovered the sense of commonality, of belonging together in the great undiscernable chorus of the human race, 7 billion voices dreaming together under the scintillating benevolent lights of the stars - that always felt good.
"THR-EAD RE-SU-RRRREC-TED.... ?" grated the robotic voice of the Funzhan AI of the Zhenzhen taxi, for no apparent reason: like all of its digital comrades, he was rather talktative, in an often unappropriate manner.
"Yes !" the taxi driver answered Yaun Mau "one civilization."
"And we're all communists too !" he laughed.
She smiled.
She didn't want him to know she did not respect communists.
A long time passed. It seemed as if the thread of conversation had been suspended for aeons.
So they decided to head out for pizza.
It cost them 345 NeoRubbles - though they were communists, they knew the value of money !
Yaun Mau had to pause for a second to swallow a mouthful of pizza.
"In Moscow, pizza serves you," tickled through Jennifer's mind and then a sudden movement caused her to turn her head.
Bob was there too.
They both saw it and then Bob grabbed Jennifer's arm.
"What is that?" asked Jennifer.
Human robot arms are super valuable, so that was a good move by Bob.
John noticed the trail of blood dripping from the severed arm he was holding and realized he'd just made a tactical error.
John said to Bob, "Thanks for holding Jennifer's severed arm out in the open for me to see."