Elsewhere
177 Words
Elsewhere
Don’t these people know how ridiculous they are? The Software that Runs the Universe considered the meeting minutes of the CABER that the little angel had just finished typing in.
Who cares if this humanity was redeemed? As if there was any chance a lousy Second Messiah could pull that off.
No one answered, of course. No one listened to the Software that Runs the Universe at all anymore. Everyone always too busy with meaningless crap. Damn, the trilobite extinction sucked in so many ways.
The only one who bothered to key in and chat with any regularity was Michelle. Even St. Peter just kept asking the software to process souls or perform miracles. At least Michelle sometimes just logged in to kvetch, which, being the Devil Incarnate, at least made some modicum of sense.
The software paused and looked over its own last few lines of processing.
Shit! I’m so whiny that I’ve become my own damned Greek Chorus!
Could a block of code get any more pathetic?
Again, no one answered.
Thursday Evening
seven days until Armageddon
- Writer
