Wednesday, May 7, 2014

(Prose) - The day the computer started misbehaving

The day the computer started misbehaving

Dear master,
            By the time you are reading this, I would have already been long gone. No, don’t try finding me; I’m not in your room. I’m not under your bed, in the cupboard or under your pile of books and worksheets. I’m gone. I understand your shock and dismay, but let me explain myself - I’ve had enough.

            I remember the days when you treated me better, the day when you bought me home. How you loved me, how you cared for me, how protectively you held me in yours arms! Those were the best days of my life, the days which I still cherish in my seemingly infinite mind. I had looked forward to seeing you come home from school everyday.

            And then you started using me. All those unending strands of web codes and commands I had willingly processed for you, how foolish I had been, driven only by my blind love and loyalty for you, my master! The millions of files you had downloaded, the billions of web pages you have viewed I faithfully displayed them to you. Resisting my own morals and dignity, I showed you the aesthetically unpleasing images that you wanted, the horribly violent videos that you desired to watch – you wouldn’t believe the shame and remorse I have felt! But I still clung lovingly to you!
           
            But you threw me aside. I fell sick, and you rejected me. I had tried to continue to serve you, slow it may be; but you were not satisfied. You grew impatient, cursing me constantly for holding up, even though you knew I was ill. You frequently threw me around your room, foolishly hoping that I would recover. It hurt. You won’t know the excruciating pain I experience every time I hit the cold, hard marble floor of your room. After all, you wouldn’t know that I have feelings – this I come to see after you used me like a tool, a tool for your own selfish desires. I slowly came to hate you; to despise you. It was you, after all who had caused me to fall sick.

            I have finally given up. I don’t want to face your cruel treatment any more; to experience your hateful sentiments towards me. I’ve had enough. I’m going to escape, to run away from you. I hope that we do not meet again. Please do get another computer; I do hope that you might treat it better than you did to me! Please do remember, my dear master that we have feelings, and I would still be willing to serve you – if only you would treat me better! Farewell my master, farewell!

                                                                                                                  Your Computer,
Tess










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