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Windows gave Mike extraordinary power and ease of creating applications to impress non-technical people. But it also consumed him and made him addicted to playing with it, eroding his mind and his soul. He was so absorbed that he began to whisper to himself: "My precious, my love.., my precious ..". He then softly sang about life and the transient of life, about the will to dominate life. It might be the theme song of a certain movie that I did not know of. It was beautiful and gripping how he sang, full of emotion and strength of life. But in his song, life had also become dark, anxious and overshadowed by men's desire for power that caused men to grope around and get lost, until in their hurt, need, and yearning, they tormented and killed one another. While he was whispering and drawing, a tiny bug incidentally settled on his face, sniffed at his skin, crawled a short distance along his cheek, and then stuck to his neck. The movement of the bug seemed to have no connection at all to Mike, who was like a man in deep meditation. ..... Suddenly, Mike stopped whispering and singing, his eyes enlarged and mouth half-opened. His face was frozen with this awkward expression. I looked at the screen and immediately understood what had happened. It was the infamous 'blue screen of death.' All the beautiful and gorgeous features were gone and were replaced by a blue screen with cryptic messages. .......... "Someone broke into my system by exploiting a well-known bug in Sendmail and had used IP spoofing techniques to deceive any IP blocking," I answered, switching to another window. .......... The shadow mutated and tended to swallow the system. It swept through the disk and began to seek for cracks to delete crucial files. If only I had my hands and shoulders free of pain, I might launch a counter attack. But I could hardly turn and move not to mention typing commands. .......... Within seconds the shadow had disappeared, having become one with the darkness and having left no trace of its ever having existed. |