http://www.workpump.com/bugcount/bugcount.html

The Bug Count Also Rises

By John Browne

In 1996, Microsoft's internal newsletter, MicroNews, sponsored a
contest for an original Hemingway parody. Workpump's John Browne won
that contest with the following entry: The Bug Count Also Rises.

Want more from John? Check out his current blog at Mobilize.Net for
updates on application modernization, software development, and the
occasional literary parody.

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In the fall of that year the rains fell as usual and washed the
leaves of the dust and dripped from the leaves onto the ground. The
shuttles drove through the rainy streets and took the people to
meetings, then later brought them back, their tires spraying the mist
into the air.

Many days he stood for a long time and watched the rain and the
shuttles and drank his double-tall mochas. With the mochas he was
strong.

Hernando who worked down the hall and who was large with microbrews
came to him and told him that the ship day was upon them but the bugs
were not yet out. The bugs which were always there even when you were
in Cafes late at night sipping a Redhook or a double-tall mocha and
you thought you were safe but they were there and although Enrico
kept the floor swept clean and the mochas were hot the bugs were
there and they ate at you.

When Hernando told him this he asked how many bugs. "The RAID is huge
with bugs," Hernando said. "The bugs are infinite."

"Why do you ask me? You know I cannot do this thing anymore with the
bugs."

"Once you were great with the bugs," Hernando said. "No one was
greater," he said again. "Even Prado."

"Prado? What of Prado? Let Prado fix the bugs."

Hernando shrugged. "Prado is finished. He was gored by three Sev 2's
on Chicago. All he does now is drink herb tea and play with his
screensavers."

"Herb tea?"

"It is true, my friend." Hernando shrugged again. Later he went to
his office and sat in the dark for a long time. Then he sent e-mail
to Michaels.

Michaels came to him while he was sipping a mocha. They sat silently
for awhile, then he asked Michaels, "I need you to triage for me."

Michaels looked down. "I don't do that anymore," he said.

"This is different. The bugs are enormous. There are an infinity of
bugs."

"I'm finished with that," Michaels said again. "I just want to live
quietly."

"Have you heard Prado is finished? He was badly gored. Now he can
only drink herb tea."

"Herb tea?" Michaels said.

"It is true," he said sorrowfully.

Michaels stood up. "Then I will do it, my friend," he said formally.
"I will do it for Prado, who was once great with the bugs. I will do
it for the time we filled Prado's office with bouncy balls, and for
the time Prado wore his nerf weapons in the marketing hall and slew
all of them with no fear and only a great joy at the combat. I will
do it for all the pizza we ate and the bottles of Coke we drank."

Together they walked slowly back, knowing it would be good. As they
walked the rain dripped softly from the leaves, and the shuttles
carried the bodies back from the meetings.