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Left Square Bracket
> As he caressed his keyboard expectantly, Overfiend Oh, okay. His index finger slid up over the HELP and DELETE keys... Drifted lightly over the backspace key, past the well-used '|', '+' and '-' keys, then paused over '0' ... His eye caught a brief flicker of movement underneath the key, something furtive, a silverfish? An ant? For a brief moment, the entire keyboard flashed transparent, and his mind was washed with the structure, each carefully shaped piece of plastic, each copper track, each component and wire, the micrometer-thin layers of ink on each key that identified it, then further in, the logic patterns behind the design, a bottle of lemon juice? Barney the Purple Paedophile Dinosaur? The latest Bob Newhart Situation Comedy? He closed his eyes, his brain simmering with the stained-glass form of the Keyboard Communication Protocol, the computer tied in an unbreakable, incestuous relationship with it, and over in Hawthorn East was a fish-tank with two large orange fish, one called DOMINUS, one called BENUTI, but he couldn't free his consciousness from this Keyboard; its form sat over his brain like a cage over a sleeping wild animal. It sat beneath his slightly perspiring fingers, quiescent, awaiting his orders ... Unbidden, the ring finger on his right hand moved and pressed sensually against the left-square-bracket key. Tentatively, then with more confidence, his finger pushed down; the key-cap descended from amongst its companions, a majestic descent into the sweaty environs of the keyboard, populated by a secret, shadow-loving biosphere of mites, worms, tiny civilisations that fed on the dust and hair and food particles that rained down on them constantly. Many of them had noble, inspiring philosophies, powerful armies, none of which mattered when the key came down. If you lived under the key, you died under it, eventually. With a grinding sound, a whoosh of air as the key deformed the hemispherical rubber pad, the crackling arc of high-tension current as the circuit was completed. With the sound of dead-bolts falling into place in ancient prisons, logic circuits decoded the hissing electrons whirling up and down, transferring energy along the grainy wires and slab-like copper tracks; the loud, basso grunts of the Processor waking up, knowing that the Key Had Been Pressed; grumbling slightly at being awoken, it arrogantly twisted the wires leading to the computer, making them squeal, the manically-vibrating electrons pulsing in its grip. Far off, the CPU detected the change, and there was a distant sound, something like a cross between a hammer hitting an anvil and a heavenly choir inhaling after a scream. On the screen, insane phosphor-dots whirled in their endless dance; just below the letters 'amigashell', fifty feet tall, appeared: [ Before he knew it, Overfiend was holding the phone up against his ear. It was ringing; he'd dialled the number without thought. After four rings, it picked up. A tinny voice said: 'Hi. You've reached Mike and Nikolai's bachelor pad!', and the rest of the now-familiar answering-phone message. After the beep, he said, as clearly as possible: "That acid kicked in after all. I'd give it eight out of ten." And hung up. |
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