I curse the engineer who thought this was a problem in need of a solution.
Hugh Howey, Glitch: A Short Story
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Consider also:
- “I tell the machine to shut up.”
- Glitch
- “It was the curse of living a life controlled by words on a page.”
- “Some things could go to pot, but not his health, he thought. Then why don’t you stop pouring alcohol into yourself? he thought. Why don’t you shut the hell up? he thought.”
- “It is ill to blaspheme the silence with a wicked whispered thought– How still they were, those nights! when this web of things was wrought! How still, how terrible! O my dolorous tender brides, As I lay and dreamt in the dark by your shameful beautiful sides! And now you are mine no more, I know; but I cannot bear The curse–that another is drunk on the life that stirs your hair: Every hair was alive with a spark of midnight’s delicate flame, Or a glow of the nether fire, or an old illustrious shame.”