This curious document was recovered in bits and bytes from a battered hard drive from an abandoned computer. I have cobbled together the fragments into a narrative though much has been lost.
”Midway upon the journey of our life I found myself within a forest dark, for the straightforward pathway had been lost. As I rested on the path a large black panther like Roomba started to chase me snarling beeps and whistles. Evil AI hacked the Roomba’s course after me. Suddenly a form appeared and blocked its path. I was lost but am found by Grace.
This Grace shook my hand and said:
“Thee it behoves to take another road,” responded she when she beheld me weeping. “If from this savage place thou wouldst escape; because this beast, at which thou criest out, suffers not any one to pass her way.”
“Therefore I think and judge it for thy best thou follow me, and I will be thy guide, and lead thee hence through the tech inferno where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations, shalt see the digitally damned disconsolate, and those who cry out each one for the second reboot.”
I went with Grace leading me by the hand.
After passing through the second level where the password limiters and CAPTCHA creators were getting their fingers slapped with wooden rulers, we descended to the third level. The heat increased.
Who was on this level? Grace pointed out a mass of bodies writhing as devils whipped them. Above them flitted large paper clips who seemed to be taunting them in dialog boxes.
“Behold, Office software programmers guilty of confusing menus and treacherous macros and obfuscated text formatting. Their only protection from the whipping are thin ribbons. They are being tormented by cries from the paper clips of the same text message boxes they programmed.”
This level was filled with large pots of boiling water filled with many sinners. Beside each pot was an old-fashioned clock with hand. Occasionally devils would take one out of the pot and throw the poor wretch onto a bed of nails. Beside each bed of nails was another old-fashioned clock. One large grinning devil would creep up to a clock and move the hands counterclockwise and the sinners would scream and howl longer.
“Oh Grace”, I asked. “Who is being punished here? And what is the purpose of the clocks? “
Grace replied. :These sinners were previously installers who insisted on four-hour windows to serve their customers while they wasted time and frequently never even showed up for their appointments. They are rotated in and out of the boiling water and onto beds of sharp rusty nails in four-hour increments. The large devil plays with their clock to prolong their agony.”
Deeper and darker and hotter we went. This seventh level was full of men tortured by large snakelike cables that held them close to flames.
The Grace steadied me as we walked over power cords, network cables, USB cords and other tech ties.
Before I could ask, Grace said “These are network and computer installers who committed the sins of never tidying up their work or labelling cables. The cables intwining them are heated and hold them close the flames of this level.
Eventually we passed by the writhing installers. Now on either side of the path were people digging with picks through boiling mud. Grace said “These are the bitcoin miners being punished for their dodgy coins that damaged the environment and ruined many.”
We had reached the penultimate level. Here the cries were the loudest so far and the heat most unmerciful.
“Grace, who earned punishment at this level?” I drily choked out.
“Beware. This level is for tech executives and phishers of men. See how the executives are chained to uncomfortable boardroom chairs around ugly tables while their suits ever catch fire and ever refresh to prolong their agony. Devils on either side of the chairs use gouging torches on the sinners skins.
Above the boardroom tables were men hanging from sharp hooks driven into their bodies. Devils with wings flew around them applying hot S shaped brands to the phishers who preyed on seniors.
A devil came by carrying new gouging torches to one large boardroom table.
Grace asked the devil why the new torches. The devil laughed and said the new gougers go 1.5% deeper. This table had earned the new torches as they had gouged their clients 1.5% more for using credit cards.
“Grace,” I said. “Truly these are worst sinners in technology. Who then is damned at the deepest level?”
Grace replied, “Those in leadership at the highest levels who should have protected the innocent from such savagery and hackery.”
Here the manuscript the ends abruptly.