- Lisa
- Richard
- Lizzie
- Thomas
- Ian
- Serendipidy
- Tom
- Norval Joe
- Tom
- Planet Z
LISA
The Server
Pete, a medical student, was working part time as a waiter. It’d been a difficult shift a packed restaurant with one particularly rude customer mostly insulting him and questioning his intelligence. He didn’t contradict her.
It was a placement week and the same awful customer had been in a nasty car crash. Her shoulder had come out of its socket; He quickly and efficiently popped it back in. As he left the cubicle she asked if she knew him.
“I was your thicko waiter, the other night.” Pete smiled, “I’ll be back to stitch your facial injuries in a moment.”
RICHARD
— 404 —
It was me.
I was the one who opened the email that brought my laptop down.
And it was my laptop that went on to crash the network and bring the server down.
The same server that went on to trash the data centre, which screwed the web and brought down the internet completely.
Yes, you can blame me for it all.
I’m the one who single-handedly broke the information super highway.
And apparently, it’s not going to be fixed any time soon, so they tell me.
But why not look on the bright side?
No more dodgy emails!
LIZZIE
“Arsenic? We apologize. The server is offline.”
The questions continued until the server was back online.
Everyone resumed clicking their buttons frantically.
Some even chanted “the server is online, the server is online”.
What were the little tables for?
“Roleplay,” was the answer.
She didn’t know where the menu was, but the waiter whispered “no worries”. He’d explain everything.
The needle. What? No.
But but… “the server is back online”.
Now she understood the little joke. “Here, Happy Birthday, have fun”.
She was a widow, a black widow. Go to the RP café and have some arsenic on our tab.
THOMAS
Server
Mr. Liu moved like a shadow through Jade Lantern, his age hidden beneath a crisp blue jacket and knowing smile. He delivered plates of thousand-year eggs and drunken shrimp with eerie precision, never writing orders down, never making a mistake.
One night, a new customer hesitated over a plate of braised eel. Mr. Liu leaned in. “Eat,” he whispered. “It’s watching.”
The man laughed nervously, but Mr. Liu did not. He simply walked away, humming an old tune.
Later, when the plate was empty, the man swore he saw Liu give the eel’s discarded bones a small, approving nod.
IAN
The Server
“Soup’s cold!”
“Well, I didn’t make it!” thinks Larry, apologizing.
“The guy on table 5 says this soup’s cold,” Larry tells the chef.
“Christ, don’t shoot the messenger,” Larry thinks seeing Fat Steve’s violent glare.
Swearing, Fat Steve vindictively overheats it, and Larry takes it back.
“I’m never coming here again!” says the table five guy.
“Good, fuck off!” thinks Larry, heroically maintaining his composure, squeezed in the vice of customer and chef.
Later he reads the feedback on the restaurant app.
Terrible food, worse service.
In bed, he receives his manager’s text message.
See me before your shift tomorrow.
SERENDIPIDY
Whether you’ve enjoyed your meal, or not, please don’t forget to tip the server.
Make it a decent tip too, none of your measly ten or twenty percent. Better still, go the whole hog, the food is cheap enough for you to double-up, a hundred percent seems a reasonable ask to me.
Your server works hard, particularly with what they have to deal with behind the scenes in the kitchen.
So, please consider being generous.
If not, don’t blame me when they wait outside for you with a cleaver.
And you’ll end up as tomorrow’s dish of the day!
TOM
Rabbit Holes
The path of the geek is long and deep. Being in Silicon Valley in the late 70s if you had a cursor interest in Networks you were easily swept up in the techno-Gyr. Spent major time working with Sun, then Red Hat then SUSE. I had a 1200 baud Hayse before it was released to the public. Built a mess of servers. Ran Sendmail. Ran IRC. Ran Apanche. Try my hand at Microsoft’s servers, but frankly, there stuff sucked. Taught Unix class, now I’m just happy to wander around Discord. If your now current everything is above your pay grade.
NORVAL JOE
When Sabrina came back downstairs, she kept her eyes on the floor, not looking at anyone. “There are still a few things I couldn’t fit in my backpack.”
Billbert hugged her. “I’ll bring them to school.”
“Okay. Thanks,” she mumbled and followed Ms. Callabassa out.
Once the door was closed, Billbert asked, “Can’t you follow them, with a satellite through work, or something?”
His mother paused, then with determination, said, “Yes. I think we can.”
They sat at the computer and his mother entered her password to log into the office network.
A message appeared, “Unable to connect to server.”
PLANET Z
The asylum application process was simple.
Get a cell phone from a border agent, download an app, and apply for asylum.
A judge napped in an office while a room full of clerks rubber-stamped applications, and you could print out a certificate, or just show the certificate on your phone to any law enforcement bothering you.
And then the law changed.
The asylum app was shut down, the borders were closed, and the servers were handed over to a new team of clerks.
They gathered up the names and addresses, handed them over to immigration officers, and the raids began.