Or here’s another one:
‘Have you been to Acapulco? Then why did you come back so pale?’
‘Because there was wi-fi in the hotel but not on the beach…’
Though that’s more about internet addiction.
Then here’s another one: If you find an error which is too time-consuming and tedious to fix – then just include it in the list of features”.
Or here’s another one, very childish:
A dog went missing. The dog’s special features: Shift+2. Reward: Shift+4.
Did you get any of them?
And for dessert, an IT worker’s prayer:
‘God, give me a button to restart this world!’
So why am I saying all this? That’s because a true IT specialist, even if he’s just going to brush his teeth, never thinks about it like all other people: I’ll just brush my teeth and then go to sleep.
No, a true IT specialist breaks down the whole process straight away into smaller pieces and creates and algorithm in his head: bathroom – door – basin – faucet – water – shelf – toothbrush – toothpaste… and so on and also inside this algorithm there’ll be another one, the so-called sub-algorithm: shelf – toothpaste tube – lid (to toothpaste tube) – toothpaste – toothbrush – lid – toothpaste tube – shelf.
Humour is humour, but the harsh truth of life for me was the fact that IT specialists weren’t just faithful servants of the octopus, no. They themselves were the octopus; they were living cells of its organism. And in order to defeat them I had to remember everything I knew and everything I could do.
That is why, in preparing for my fight with the octopus, I naturally began by creating an algorithm of actions for myself. Strategy, plan, projects – it is blah-blah-blah and lyrics.
Everything was precise and clear in my algorithm, and no disruptions were expected. Of course, I also input unexpected circumstances, the so-called force majeure, and also completely improbable situations best formulated in the tips for one of the earliest versions of Microsoft Office: that which suddenly disappears can appear by itself again.
In creating the algorithm, I used the general thesis that the octopus is a system: in other words it’s ‘a plurality of elements that are in relationships and connections with each other, and which form a certain integrity or unity’.
To defeat a system one needs another system, plainly. But one mustn’t forget the law formulated by one of the first IT specialists, professor William Ashby. This law, which deservedly bears his name, says: ‘When creating a problem-solving system, it is necessary for the system to have more variety than the variety of the problem being solved, or to be able to create such variety.’ The larger the variety of actions available to a control system, the larger the variety of perturbations it can compensate.
In other words, it was possible to defeat the octopus only by countering each of its tentacles, each of its information channel, by an even a larger number of channels.
In my imagination it would be as if the octopus crawling in the dark, muddy underwater cavern was suddenly brilliantly illuminated by countless bright beams of light, shone by countless lanterns at the same time.
In situations like this an octopus will draw in all its tentacles, try to hide, and crawl into some crevice or a hole, or change its color to mimic stones or seaweed. If the illumination of an octopus’ dwelling is prolonged, then the cephalopod can die from stress or hunger.
And that was exactly what I was hoping for. In the opposition of two systems, or more precisely, of the system and the antisystem I was going to create, the information rays would kill the octopus, like the light kills the darkness.
I won’t say more about the algorithm I created. It has yet to run its course, and disclosing any more could harm me and the whole campaign for the octopus destruction. But I will tell you a few more things.
I initiated the first stage of my algorithm back in Fort Meade. For some reason the journalists who now write about me think I was copying secret information on something like disks or flash drives and then carrying them out of the NSA building in my anus.
Of course, it’s complete nonsense. As an employee of the agency, I had high level access to classified information and access to databases and documents related to BRISM and many other projects. I was also able to use communication channels which completely encrypted content. So of course, I never risked using portable media devices.
So after resigning and becoming a consultant in a few companies working with the NSA and the CIA, I began to proceed with my algorithm. Hawaii came into the picture not because I liked it there, but more because it was a nice bonus.
Everything was essentially prosaic. The International Airport of Honolulu was the quickest stopover for Hong Kong, and that was an important part of the algorithm. Why? Very simple: China is also a system and I was going to use its potential in fighting the octopus.
But I met Middy by an accident. No, that’s not quite right. I met her in line with the algorithm, but specifically by chance. I would’ve never made contact with a person who showed an interest in me. I have worked in the agency long enough and I wasn’t that naïve to catch bait thrown at me.
I’ve already told you about the honey trap – so where was the guarantee that it wouldn’t be used on me? This would’ve been a very easy way to hold their former employee on a short leash. The whistleblower doesn’t just watch him but sleeps with him in the same bed.
At the same time, I needed a woman, a girlfriend – and not just for legitimizing my presence in Hawaii. After all, where else would a couple in love go. Not North Dakota!
As I’ve said, my relations with women have not so much problems as certain issues. Meeting on a street, in a café or a bar is not my thing. A few attempts to find myself a girlfriend through dating websites came to nothing. All contenders turned out in real life to be completely impossible – and one even turned out to be a man. Indeed, apart from prostitutes, only women with issues unable to arrange their personal life off-line seem to come to meet people on the internet.
When I went to Honolulu to find myself a little house with a view over the sea – not as fashionable as the bungalow at the foot of Mauna Kea, but still decent – that’s when my legs began to ache awfully.
Maybe it was to do with some change in the air. I often react to the weather. I can stay awake all night before a thunderstorm. And if there’s a tornado somewhere nearby, my head feels like it’s about to crack like an overripe pumpkin.
I’d forgotten about the broken legs until then, although back in the hospital the doctor had told me that in time the healed bones may ache. That’s normal and I should be prepared for it.
Anyway, I was looking for accommodation, meeting with realtors, estate agents and other intermediaries. Typhoon Ivica was circling in the Pacific Ocean, and although storms are rare on the Hawaiian islands, I got ‘lucky’ and the typhoon’s damp breath had spoilt my life for a few days.
In search of salvation I went to a clinic, but they just prescribed me sedatives and painkillers. I’m not really a fan of pharmaceutical treatments because I think that nowadays there are enough chemicals in our food, water and air, and to stuff yourself with it in medication too is a step too far.
Still, struggling with the pain, I wandered through Downtown Honolulu. It was a warm, sunny day. Doors and windows were flung wide, and ‘He Mele No Lilo’, children’s laughter and ringing bells were coming from somewhere.
I was already on my way back to the hotel to ask the receptionist to help me find some kind of a doctor-physiotherapist when I saw at the end of the street a sign saying: ‘Massage Room ‘Flexible Nene’. All types of massage. Pain relief. Yoga for beginners’.