Job Description

My job is to orchestrate the rapid on-and-off of millions of tiny little switches.

I am the wizard, the spell master, the weaver of webs.

I make worlds from pure thought, and as my worlds collide with yours, your worlds are changed, and so are mine.

My worlds are contained in little black boxes, boxes that I will never actually see.

They are not lost, these boxes full of switches, but I do not know where they are, and I never will.

For hours I sit in silence, staring at the object before me; an artificial glass that glows with the light of yesterday’s sun.

Arcane symbols march across the glass, just below its surface. They come and going at my whim.

And as I work, I remain quite still, still but for the endless dance of my fingers on yet more switches.

And then, all at once, the stillness is broken.

I curse; I wring my hands in frustration.

And one of my fellows intones the spell to end all spells:

“Have you tried switching it all off and then back on again?”

Yes, indeed; yet more switches.

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