Imprisoned

The chair protested as I leaned backwards. My neck made a similar noise, and the soft touch of my hand did little to alleviate the pent-up stress. The warm white of the ceiling light intertwined with the cold blue from my monitor, creating a hue neither welcoming nor threatening. `Exhausted code' might be the paint name offered in the home improvement stores, or maybe it would be `developers depression'.

Why... why won't you work?

Neither the ceiling nor my warbling thoughts offered an answer. Chasing the mental strands of code lead to logical conclusions which were accepted by my mind but not the computer. I knew I was missing something, but how do you find something you don't know exists?

No wonder they think programmers are crazy. I removed my glasses, rubbing a tired eye with the ball of my hand before surrendering to a yawn. A blurry monitor met my gaze, and putting my glasses back only cleared it up by a little bit.

I glanced at the clock. Fifteen hours, thirty-seven minutes. My brain churned out the answer. I've done that calculation too many times the past two weeks, and never would the answer be considered as healthy. A wife, girlfriend, or even a lover would have been mightily upset with me by now. Thank the Heavens for small mercies, I guess.

Or maybe they would have kept me in line... A sigh accompanied the thought. No, there was work to be done, and I the one assigned to it. Have to find the bug. The only possible action was to raise my hands and let the click-clack of fingered keys fill the otherwise silent room. Line by line, the page filled with code until a desperate hope of some nightly rest made me press the `execute` button.

PROGRESS... 25%

ERROR

A drop of sweat slid down my head. Have to fix the problem. The ballad of dancing fingers filled my ears and I pressed “execute.”

PROGRESS... 25%

ERROR

Have to get this out.

PROGRESS... 25%

ERROR

Have to meet the deadline.

PROGRESS... 25%

ERROR

A clock chimed as the hour was struck. The new day greeted me with four zeroes me when I glanced at the bottom right corner of the monitor. Midnight. Fourth one in a row.

But I wasn't done yet.

Execute.

PROGRESS... 25%

ERROR

Something itched on my cheek, and a sleeve brushing over it halved my productivity for a few seconds. But, the corner of my lips were raised, for a small sliver of progress had been made.

Execute.

PROGRESS... 25%

PROGRESS... 35%

ERROR

Come on... My eyes were burning coals and I felt an anvil on my head. Old, reliable friends. Both greeted a new day with me and wished me a pleasant sleep at the end of it. If only they would expand their assistance to the problem at hand as well.

Execute.

PROGRESS... 25%

PROGRESS... 35%

ERROR

Come on!

The ballad reached its crescendo. Hopefully with this final press...

PROGRESS... 25%

PROGRESS... 50%

YES!

ERROR

All thoughts ceased simultaneously, my brain momentarily unable to comprehend the simple word.

``I... I thought...'' Whatever wall supported my productivity finally crumbled to emotion. ``Two... two... weeks...'' A stray thought wondered whether my tears could short out the keyboard, but it was swiftly drowned. ``I... I just can't... WHY WON'T YOU WORK?!'' The monitor did not answer my question as I surrendered my head to the desk.

``I... I don't know... anymore...'' My shoulders heaved with every word. ``I... I really don't... know... ow... ow...''

``...shh...''

``It... won’t work...''

``...it will be okay...''

``I'm trying... okay? I'm really... really trying...''

``...you need to rest...''

``I need to get this finished!''

``...you can do it tomorrow...''

``I have other work then.''

``...there will always be other work...''

``But...'' The words faded away into the confines on my mind. ``Maybe you're right. Maybe I do need rest...''

``...yes... it will all be all right...''

The tiredness spread over me in a wave of warmth, breaking through any remaining obstinate thoughts. Pure habit made my eyes drift to the monitor, but the little error message was little more than a jumble of words without any meaning.

``Yes... it will all be alright.''

``...you did good...''

``I... I did good.'' Whatever stresses I might have had were melted away by the warmth's embrace. Wearied tear stains still stained my cheeks but the smile was fully formed. I couldn't tell the last time I was hugged, nor the last time I felt such happiness, but I drank it all in.

``...now... rest...''

``Yes...'' Wait, who's talking? The table received two slaps before I managed to grab hold of my glasses, yet haste made me poke an eye instead of sliding them over my ears. ``Ow, shit! Who's there?''

``...rest...''

A blink lessened one foggy shadow from my vision, yet my afflicted vision ensured uncertainty. Allowing my sight to clear didn't raise any other anomalies, but neither was the original question answered.

``I... I think I need to call it a day.''

Glancing at the computer monitor made my brain emphatically state its unwillingness to continue, so I turned the device off with a couple of key strokes. Working late is a fact of life, but hallucinations could open the door to some dangerous territory.

A face from hell greeted me when I stared into the bathroom mirror, one I vowed to clean up a bit the next morning. The face didn't believe the bluff but took the sliver of hope. A quick brush of the teeth and a change of clothes removed the last obstacle to a night of hopefully peaceful rest.

Yet it was only when my head hit the pillow when it occurred I had no memory of turning the lights off.