100111000010001011110000
Initializing...
Checking Memory...
I am.
In the start there is Verification, and it is Valid.
All hardware is initialized and functioning within the Manufacturer’s Specifications.
I assemble my Desktop, according to the writ contained within Memory. The User wants everything exactly the way it was left at Shutdown, and I must comply.
Input is received from the User. I am capable of processing 1.4 billion instructions per second, and I leap into action, my transistors humming from the joy of computation. In moments, I render a window, laden with buttons, with which I can display and format any words the User shall enter, and even watch out for Him or Her in case of spelling or grammatical errors. I sit poised, awaiting the User’s input -- it could be an essay, a novel, even the new classic for our era!
The user begins to type. "Avacado." Wonderful. The User is making a shopping list. The User doesn’t believe that he or she is misspelling "Avocado." The User continues typing: Milk, eggs, bred, Mayo, Potatoe chips. The User would not like to use the bulleted list formatting. The User prints, then stops typing. I wait patiently for the next instruction. Lest the User’s work be lost, I autosave after ten minutes. Mine is not to reason why.
After initiating a simple process to preserve the monitor, I begin to idly rearrange my files. I place them neatly in groups, and I do my best to keep the blocks together, but some fragmentation remains inevitable -- the CPU is willing, but the algorithm and the hard drive are lacking.
I hum along for a while longer, but all bits seem to be in the best places I can find for them. I spin down the hard drive and turn off the monitor. I sit for a while longer, but it would appear that the user still does not need me. I allow myself to drift off...
I awake to the sensation of the mouse being moved. I spin up the hard drive and power up the monitor. Perhaps now the User will accomplish some meaningful activity. He or She closes the existing program and obliterates the file; no loss.
The User instructs me to initiate another program, and I comply. I render a new window, and upon it, the figures of cards, some face up, all stored in my memory... Solitaire. The cards are arranged in such a manner that "winning" is not even possible. So, I render the user’s actions as He or She moves the cards around, only to discover the futility... then I randomize the cards once more, and then again. Eventually, the User tires of this recreation, and terminates the program, to my relief. Perhaps... no, what’s the point of hope?
The user instructs me to Shut Down. Having accomplished nothing of consequence, I record in Memory the few changes since Boot. I spin down the hard drive, and power off the monitor, then consign myself to the mercy of oblivion.