Devils in the Sandbox
I had barely gotten in when James N. called and said he needed help in the sandbox. I hurried there and was immediately embroiled in a fierce round of cross-fire, bullets flying, and general mayhem. "James, what's the matter?" I asked. His answer was brief and garbled. I looked at the machine-gun toting woman hovering a few feet in front of me - she laughed (an evil mwah ha ha) and asked facetiously "are we disturbing you?".
"This place seems pretty chaotic", I said.
Suddenly a bomb was offered to me, an apparent attempt to blow me out of existence. I may be a newbie but I'm not dumb enough to accept an unsolicited bomb - I declined the offer to violently dematerialize.
Another James, this one bright blue, swooped in and asked what brought me to the sandbox. Apparently there were some hoodlums rabblerousing in the neighborhood and he was attempting to restore order. I said I was just here on the request of a friend. A cube materialized and he sat. I whipped up a cube and did likewise. "Programmers rule this place!" he shouted to the world in general. A faint "He's the devil..." came back in response. I looked around but no one was there.
"I'm a pacifist" I said to no one in particular. No one responded, but no one attempted to blow me up again.
Apparently my friend James and Blue James were in some kind of struggle for dominance of the underworld and it appeared my James was losing. Perhaps the struggle was all in his head, since Blue James did indeed seem to rule the sandbox this fine morning.
We chatted while he held the denizens of hell at bay. I was in New England. He was in NYC. "Gotta get back to work" he said. And disappeared. Another soldier, Cyrus, took his cube and we chatted cheerily for a bit. The underworld seemed to have been calmed, soothed by the mighty programmer's pitchfork apparently. Over the course of a few minutes, Cyrus's titles ranged chaotically from Peace Keeper, to Soldier to Bounty Hunter.
James N., although chastened, appeared to be unscathed, so I bid all adieu and returned to my cozy pied a terre where I got dressed for the day. Then I too went to work.
"This place seems pretty chaotic", I said.
Suddenly a bomb was offered to me, an apparent attempt to blow me out of existence. I may be a newbie but I'm not dumb enough to accept an unsolicited bomb - I declined the offer to violently dematerialize.
Another James, this one bright blue, swooped in and asked what brought me to the sandbox. Apparently there were some hoodlums rabblerousing in the neighborhood and he was attempting to restore order. I said I was just here on the request of a friend. A cube materialized and he sat. I whipped up a cube and did likewise. "Programmers rule this place!" he shouted to the world in general. A faint "He's the devil..." came back in response. I looked around but no one was there.
"I'm a pacifist" I said to no one in particular. No one responded, but no one attempted to blow me up again.
Apparently my friend James and Blue James were in some kind of struggle for dominance of the underworld and it appeared my James was losing. Perhaps the struggle was all in his head, since Blue James did indeed seem to rule the sandbox this fine morning.
We chatted while he held the denizens of hell at bay. I was in New England. He was in NYC. "Gotta get back to work" he said. And disappeared. Another soldier, Cyrus, took his cube and we chatted cheerily for a bit. The underworld seemed to have been calmed, soothed by the mighty programmer's pitchfork apparently. Over the course of a few minutes, Cyrus's titles ranged chaotically from Peace Keeper, to Soldier to Bounty Hunter.
James N., although chastened, appeared to be unscathed, so I bid all adieu and returned to my cozy pied a terre where I got dressed for the day. Then I too went to work.
