I always wanted to know: who makes the test cases for the test cases. If somebody can write a bugfree test, why he/she cannot write bugfree code?
I know you ask a lot of times, too,
what is the meaning of life.
Why the suffering, the pain,
war, fear of children,
all our hopes in vain.
With that, so am I. I want to know if it’s worth it.
But you know, it’s none of our duty
to decide if it’s good here to be,
is it good to think what’s life about,
because you can really find out
what is life worth
when it hurts
and You struggle for every breath
and You are happy for every minute
You can still get.
A little absurd: I don’t know why Microsoft thinks, it’s more important to make sure the system is virus-free than it is for the user to work…
Excerpt from my free book, Lander.
“The Eye has not moved for years. The oil froze on its shafts, dust dripped from its lenses, and cobwebs grew thick and soft on its tiny gears. He slept, and so did the others. Their long dreams were seldom disturbed by a bird flying there, or a cat wandering among the ruins, but these also disappeared immediately, and the dream became even calmer. The city was captured in a motionless image on the glowing surface of hidden mirrors, the stones and leaking smoke, the dazzling sunlight in the puddles, and the dust rising and settling again, all lived in millions of silver nerves in a single moment. Man had never walked here, and even the wind seldom arose to bring smoke and soot from somewhere far away. The unchanging time showed itself only in the cycle of light and darkness, in the steady pounding of the rain, the change waiting in the metal body of the machines, tense in steel clock springs.
The day after the storm awakened the city with new voices. It wasn’t the wind that walked between the walls, it wasn’t the everyday noises known to boredom, it wasn’t the swaying of wings, and it wasn’t the knocking of rain. The air was filled with fresh and lively nesses, footprints drawing and multiplying on the cobbled pavers. A visitor approached and the Eye moved slowly. Someone walked among the ruins, carefully avoiding the piles of debris. It was a human form, but the Eye had not yet seen it clearly. Something moved, awoke, and ran through the silver threads. As it passed, the motionless images came to life and ran further into the depths where the Brain was asleep. Sparks popped, blue and red sparks woke the Brain, and then arms lifted him out of the oil bath. A soft, warm light glowed inside the blurred interior of the sphere, and the School of Music began to awaken. Fresh oil dripped down the axes that moved the eyes, and diligent hands wiped the lenses and mirrors clean. The Eye saw again and woke the others in a row. The Gate, Stairs, Corridors and Halls. Tiny animals hid from their hidden lair and washed the mosaic stones and walls clean. When they were done with everything, they disappeared as fast as they came out. The Brain instructed, the Eye moved, and the image began to sharpen. A boy was standing on the uninhabited road.”
You can read the book: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Sz%C5%B1cs_J%C3%A1nos_Lander?id=8UY5EAAAQBAJ
Talking about our problems is a joy! And THIS is the greatest problem.
The worst ever invention of Mankind is the forced update of Windows 10…
Click for the full text: https://improbablediary.wordpress.com/2021/11/20/the-worst-invention/
We ask our dear guests not to feed the birds! Thank You!
Guests are kindly requested to disregard the above request. Thank you: the birds.
We’re like the Titanic’s saloon band: the ship sinks and we just keep playing. I wonder why? Because we don’t know the truth, or because we can’t do anything else?
The water is bubbling at our ankles, but we’re just playing. The water hugs our waist, we keep playing. The water reaches our necks, the drummer, the pianist is already drowned, and we are still playing. Then we are overwhelmed by the water, the music falls silent, the ship sinks, the silence is dark and deep.
The planet is dying and we will continue to play until we are destroyed. We don’t care that the iceberg already cracked five watertight compartments, which is tantamount to shipwreck, as it is well known that the Titanic is unsinkable.
We believe the planet is indestructible, which may even be true. But man is not. We are destroying our environment with the sure awareness that we are inviolable, indestructible, while the iceberg has already cracked the fourth compartment.
But we are like that until we try everything, we don’t believe in anyone and anything. Until we are convinced that we can truly disappear from this planet, we will continue. Like the band on the Titanic.
Then the fifth compartment breaks, the coral reefs are destroyed, the Gulf Stream stops, Northern Europe is shrouded in ice, elsewhere the heat and fires digest everything, the frozen carbon dioxide melts, the heat continues to rise, the water level rises, life becomes impossible on land. And we keep playing, trying to escape underground, under water, in order to prolong our death by a few months, maybe years. We keep playing, pretending that we are invulnerable.
Then, as on the Titanic, the music is finally silenced, the last breath of the last man will be the last act of humanity on this planet. And the intellect may disappear from the Universe just because we played until the last minute.
Maybe, maybe, a few billion years, and there will be another intelligent race that, if it doesn’t know the fate of its predecessor, will follow the same path, only it will have less time left until the death of the Sun.
We are still alive now. Maybe if we stop playing music, and everyone is working to save the fifth compartment, to try to put life-saving devices, boats, rafts, life-saving boards on the water, made from any movable object, if we take trouble seriously, the Titanic arrives at the port. If it is not, and the record that truly matters than by sailing further south to avoid the icebergs that we know are there, even if the journey takes longer, but we reach our destination alive, if this is what matters, we escape. If we are arrogant and believe in the myth of our inviolability, it is over. No more attempts.
The Titanic was sunk by its own myth, which could not withstand the power of the iceberg breaking through the five compartments. Myths are in our heads, icebergs out there at sea. No reasoning helps against reality, no matter how we play God, Nature can soon make us ridiculous. The costume of God does not protect you in fire or in the rising water.
Nor do I think this writing will change anything, I don’t play that I see and know everything. I just read the signs and see the iceberg in the fog too, and maybe if I don’t try to avoid it but go with a nose for it, the Titanic won’t sink. If we do not try to avoid the inevitable, but accept the reality of danger, we understand and act according to it, if we do not want to defeat Nature but to live with it, then perhaps we will reach the port. If not then…
Three planets around the Sun, Venus and Mars, never carried life, or if they did, they lost it over time. The third is Earth, a planet that once carried life, now she is also silent and dead, dead with his other two companions, her sister and her brother.
Because we believed in myths more than in reality.
The state of meditation is actually homecoming. And that is why one will be happy because he or she will return home. To his or her own self, to God, to where one belongs, to where one felt torn from, and in whole life is always looking for this, wants to find it back and is therefore unhappy. In meditation, one returns to where one seeks to return throughout one’s life.
I published my science-fiction short-story selection on Google Play, it’s free to read and download: