The program is given a new life. After some bug fixes in the C file, he was saved on the local disk drive. His master, whom－out of respect－he calls ‘root’, saved him there. He, the program, sits inside a folder named ‘My Codes’ inside the root’s home directory. The address of the home directory is ‘~’. The home directory occupies a block of space in the local storage drive, and that block sits somewhere deep inside the whole of the drive. His height is 500 lines. His upper parts end just after the 10th line, and they contain all of his thinking side－brain. After that, he has his face, heart, lungs, all the way to his feet that rest on the 500th line. In the hard drive, there’s some empty space after his leg, but other programs lie next. Some are long unused, almost dead. Some are freshly used and came back to their place in the drive.
A construction work is happening in the main memory. It is randomly accessible, and hence the camera flies towards this precise location somewhere in the middle of the memory. A guy in a truck is clearing up dirt and cleaning the space. Upon asking, he says a new program is coming here, and the old one left this trace that I have to clean. He was a very old guy, and his name was Garbage Collector. Now, the place is clean. He goes back and writes in his notebook that his place is free now. A team of cranes and trucks come and make up more than a dozen segments here. Every segment is constructed in a delicate way. They put labels on each of the segments: stack, heap, and code, etc.
Something came to the hard disk drive, put him in a car, and after a while he was thrown in one of those segments in the main memory. It all happened so fast that he hardly had time to breathe and look around himself. Here, he is alone. He waits. He asks himself about the structure of these buildings around him, the structure of the roads with which he came here, the methods of travel along the way. What external forces make him move, how these cranes and collectors and trucks work. He tells himself that it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t know anything about it. He only knows his own work, which is enough. After all, he is a Computer Scientist, not a Computer Engineer.
Sitting bored in his code segment, he tries asking his whereabouts from a pedestrian in the busy street alongside. People are too busy with their lives. Nobody answers him. Meanwhile, he sees that new kinds of trucks are putting some things in his other segments. He is perplexed. He starts getting depressed, and wishes to call his psychotherapist. But instantly, a dwarf comes and tells him, looking at his notes sheet, that it is his time to run. They called him to the headquarters. Now, his facial expressions change. A flash of memory comes to his bright eyes, and he smiles. He knows the Central Processing Unit. He had been there before.
The CPU was working hard on something when he realized that a small clock inside it just sent a signal to halt the work. CPU stopped what it was doing. Another signal lighted up, which changed his mood. He calls it the kernel mood. [I SHALL WRITE MORE HERE. TIRED NOW]
He remembers his youth when he was heart broken and devastated upon the rejection of someone he had shared his intense feelings with. First, he had lost hope. Then, he stopped his prayers. At some point, he hit one of the weakest times of his life. He was suffering from fever and headaches. Only his mother was by his side. He did not share any of his feelings with her, but she knew deep inside her that there is much wrong with him than what appears on the outside. A time also came when he would constantly think of suicide and weep every night like a child. He does not remember how he got back into normal in the previous months or a year. Now, as he starts to get mature and become familiar with everything around him, his fascination and passion of things around him decreases. Boredom haunts him every day. He knows that those trucks and cranes were memory managers, loaders, and linkers; the note sheets were nothing but lists containing free space address in the main memory. The high manager ordering all the jobs for moving and placing him in different areas, was the Operating System. Every night, in solitude, he thinks that I have lived my whole life in these areas, and I still understand very little. The young programs live in big mansions called data centers, and they have put me in their local drives since many years. This, too, is a big society. He thinks, I see so many problems in this society, and I know many ways to make things better here. Maybe I might do this some time in my later life. He tells himself, there’s too much to do here. Then, he sleeps.
This is an unfinished draft. I’ll complete it later.
December 16, 2023
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