God ... Ballad about a programmer

one.



Day is approaching in the evening. I need to refactor the legacy code, by all means. But he rests: unit tests do not turn green at all.

I get up to brew a cup of coffee and concentrate again.

A telephone call distracts me. This is Marina.

“Hello, Marin,” I say, pleased that you can remain inactive for a couple of minutes.

- What are you doing, Petya? Her promising voice sounds.

- I work.

Well, yes, I work. What else can I do ?!

“Would you like to invite me somewhere?”

It is tempting, even very tempting. But damn it, I need to finish the unit tests!

- I want to but I can not. Monday release.

- Then come to me.

Flirting or really missing?

“Marin, come on Tuesday,” I reply with a sigh. - On Tuesday - swept up.

“Then I will come to you,” Marina suggests. - Overnight. The mood is romantic. Let me go?

So, miss you.

Until a complete victory over unit tests, there is very little left. Until she gets there, I'll finish it. And you can relax.

“Isn't it dangerous?” - I worry about her young life.

- You can’t sit all eternity in four walls ?! - Marina is indignant at the other end of the call.

And that is true.

- Well, come, if not dumb. I looked at the situation in Yandex?

- I looked, I looked. The shootout is only 4 points.

- Good. At night, I still can’t coding, I have worked out. Do you remember the address?

- I remember.

- I'm waiting.

“I'm on my way,” says Marina and hangs up.

How long should she go? Not less than an hour. During this time I will be in time. I even have a little time in reserve, so I decide to prepare for the meeting.

I get out from behind the computer and put a clean tablecloth on the dining table. Thinking, I put out a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator, I take out two glasses from the sideboard. The preparation for the meeting is completed, I am returning to work.



2.



The unit doorbell distracts me from unit tests that continue to blushly blush. I'm at a loss. Did Marina call from the subway? What a hell!

However, instead of Marina, the camera shows two male figures in a uniform - which one, not to see. I am discouraged.

The intercom is connected to the system. I press the activation button and say the most trivial thing in the world into the microphone:

- Who's there?

- Bailiffs, - is heard in dynamics. - Open the door. We must give you a notice.

Yeah, open the door! Found a fool.

- Drop it in the inbox below.

- The notice is handed over against signature.

- Do without painting.

From behind the door they mint without a pause in a commanding voice:

- Open immediately.

“Now, we’ve fled,” I reply with a flash of anger. - Let strangers into your apartment ?! Are you guys swollen?

- Open, or we will break the door.

Is it really breaking out? Roulette of death, spinning a bit, chose me? How unexpectedly everything breaks off.

Without a fight, I will not give up, of course - not that upbringing. We’ll also see who will release someone before the gut.

I rush to the metal cabinet, unlock it, grab a shotgun with a box of cartridges, and in a hurry I charge. I take the position of "emphasis from the knee" in front of the door and made for shooting.

Everything happens as if not with me, but with another. But there is no choice.

- Break it! - I shout towards the microphone as hard as possible. - I promise everyone who crosses the threshold, according to the lead mustard in the nostril.

There is a slight crackle in the speakers.

“If you don’t open the door, I will call the special forces.”

That is, the desire to break the door is gone ?! So I thought - wiring! Banal wiring, and so scare me! As I did not immediately realize, they didn’t even give my name.

“Call, nits,” I reply, almost calming down.

There is silence outside the door. After about five minutes, it becomes apparent that the uninvited guests left.

I am on the floor in the “abutment from the knee” position, leaning back against the wall and breathing heavily. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and rise to my feet. I put the shotgun on the computer table, next to the mouse.

Then I kneel down and, clutching my hands in the back of the chair, I begin to pray.

“Oh Lord, save me!” I appeal to you, the Creator of the Creators, the Creator of the Creators. Let all sorts of misfortunes and adversities pass me by. Give me strength and firmness. Admonish me, Lord. Admonish me, Lord. Admonish me.

Whatever they say, prayer helps. She gives hope for the future.

My fingers vibrate slightly from the excitement experienced, but I sit down at the computer and try to focus on refactoring. I have to finish work before Marina arrives.



3.



Almost immediately, a new phone call distracted me. The number is unfamiliar. This may be a new customer, maybe a harmless spammer, or maybe a seasoned breeder. Who knows?

“Speak,” I say into the phone.

The voice is female.

- Hello, this is your mobile operator. Would you like to switch to a cheaper Family Plus tariff?

“I do not wish.”

- This tariff is 20 rubles cheaper than the one you are currently using.

- Then what is the wiring? I wonder.

“The Family Plus tariff is 20 rubles cheaper,” the woman repeats.

“I asked what the wiring is.”

- We call all customers and offer them a cheaper rate.

Yeah, keep your pocket wider!

I'm starting to get a little annoyed:

- How cute! Take care of customers! But you can’t just lower the price of the previous tariff? Customers will not mind.

- So you don’t want to switch to the new “Family Plus” tariff? - the woman specifies.

What a smart one!

- I do not want.

- Well, you still have the same tariff.

Beeps.



four.



Once again in the evening I sit down at the computer and try to concentrate. But today is not destined, as you can see ...

A new call, and again from an unfamiliar number.

- Speak.

This time the voice is male.

- Hello, can I speak with Pyotr Nikolaevich?

Knows my first name. Is the customer really? It would be nice.

- I'm listening.

- They worry about it from the security service of Sberbank. An attempt was made to unauthorized entry into your personal account. You didn’t lose the card? Check, please.

- Just a minute.

I go to the hanger, pull my purse out of my jacket pocket, and look inside. All this takes no more than 15 seconds.

- I have a map.

- Didn’t they tell anyone? - voices concern.

Or just trying to express?

- No one.

- So, unauthorized entry. In such cases, it is supposed to block the account for two weeks. You will not be able to use your account for two weeks. But if you wish, I can install two-factor authentication. In this case, everything will work tomorrow.

“Install,” I decide.

- What is your card number and password, which will come via SMS. I must log in to your account to set up two-factor authentication.

Yes, an employee of Sberbank calls the client to enter his personal account. Everything becomes clear as day.

- Are you sure that two-factor? - I'm starting to fool around.

- So reliable.

There is impatience in the voice.

“What's your name, security specialist?” I ask innocently.

- Yuri.

“Go in the ass, Yura,” I suggest with all possible convincingness. - Do you fraudsters have an active period today? My would, each of the mustard mustard stuck in the nostril. I would kill everyone.



5.



I hide my iPhone in my pocket. I walk around the room for a while, trying to tune in to unit tests. With a decisive step, I'm heading to my computer, but the doorbell rings me.

Are the fake bailiffs back?

I jump to the table, turn on the intercom, grab a loaded shotgun and take the position of “stop from the knee”.

“I told you not to appear here again.” I'll kill you! - I shout towards the microphone as decisively as possible.

Then I guess to look into the camera. These are not bailiffs: an unknown man in civilian clothes at the door.

“You called me,” the peasant explains.

“I didn’t call anyone,” I reply, not knowing to breathe a sigh of relief or prepare for new trials.

“I am the Lord,” they say on the other side of the door.

- Who ??? - I am amazed.

- Lord.

- Wow, this has not happened!

I am amazed at the originality of the wiring: a man’s fantasy is what he needs.

- You asked for admonition. This must be discussed in person. Will you let me in?

Admonition? Did he mention admonition? Well, yes, I asked the Lord to reason me ...

I'm trying to figure out how likely it is that:

1) a person prays

2) while asking for admonition.

Let's say half is praying. How many worshipers asks to reason them? Usually they ask for salvation, health, happiness ... but admonition? Let's say 10%. We get 5% of hits. A lot, however, is sparse. Why did the man focus on admonition when there is salvation? Then the percentage would turn out under fifty - all prayers. Everyone asks for salvation: I also asked.

- Let a stranger into your apartment ?! Are you laughing? - I pronounce not so confidently.

“I am the Lord,” they remind me at the door.

- And I'm Ivan Susanin.

“I came to admonish you.” Did you ask for admonition?

I'm starting to doubt. Yes, that sounds silly, but I'm really starting to doubt it.

For some time I have been feverishly thinking how to be. Suddenly it illuminates me.

“If you are the Lord, go through the locked door.”

“But I am in human form!” - heard in the speakers.

“Get out of here, innovator,” I laugh gaily, returning the shotgun to the table. - I can’t buy cheap wiring.

- As you know.



6.



I sit down at the computer and work. I have very little time left - I need to get to grips with unit tests. Soon Marina will come, and it is not comme il faut to cod during a love date. Although in one of the commercials I saw a guy having sex and programming at the same time.

Suddenly, a police siren is heard outside the window, then a metal voice reinforced with a mouthpiece:

- Attention, the counter-terrorist operation! Special Forces Works! The request to the residents of the house to temporarily not leave their apartments. And you, bastard terrorist, come out with your hands up! I give 30 seconds to think.

- Wow!

I understand that I have a khan. There will be no release, no date with the woman you love - nothing. First, a shootout will take place, then they will burst into the apartment and drag my riddled corpse into the street. Or maybe they will not drag it out, but leave it here - what's the difference?

I roll off the chair with a shotgun in my hands. I look out the window, in the crack between the shifted curtains. So it is: the porch is cordoned off, around the machine gunners dressed in armored suits. In the depths of the courtyard you can see the tank, which aimed the barrel in my direction. The tank turned the lawn ... or was the lawn turned before that? I do not remember.

I do not care anymore. With my dancing hands I flop the work chair to one side, which is much more convenient than the “stop from the knee” position. Reluctance to shoot from the window - let them break the door. So I will last longer.

From the street you hear the menacing:

- 30 seconds to think elapsed. We begin the counter-terrorist operation.

Powerful blows are heard - it breaks out a metal door.

It's time to pray. It’s convenient that I’m already on my knees - no need to go down.

- Lord, save me! I pray earnestly. - Save me, Creator of Creators, Creator of Creators. Please save me. And reason.

Powerful blows continue. Stucco is pouring from the ceiling, the chandelier is swinging. Through the noise, I distinguish a phone call.

“Yes,” I say into the iPhone.

This is the customer - the one for whom I am completing the release.

- Peter, how are things going? He wonders. - Will you be in time by Monday?

- Oleg Viktorovich! I exclaim joyfully.

- Something is hard to hear - let's call you back.

“No,” I reply, realizing that ringing will not help. - The house is being renovated; I can’t hear myself badly.

Blows on the door continue, the walls are shaking, the chandelier is swinging.

“I ask how things are going.” - the customer shouts into the receiver.

“There are certain difficulties,” I shout back.

- Difficulties? Shouts the upset customer.

“No, no, nothing serious,” I reassure a good man. - Repair. Nothing serious, I have time.

Distinctive screams are heard, then shots. With one hand I put the iPhone to my ear, with the other hand I send the shotgun towards the door.

“Precisely a repair, not a shootout?” - the customer doubts, changing the tone from concerned to compassionate. - Yandex did not seem to promise.

“They turned on the jackhammer,” I say.

- In that case, success!

- I’ll do everything, Oleg Viktorovich.

Beeps hang up, but I keep repeating on the machine:

“I will do everything, Oleg Viktorovich. I'll do everything".

Then I put the iPhone in my pocket, take the shotgun in both hands and prepare to die.

However, the shots are silent. They shout into a shout - in the same metallic voice, but with a touch of well-deserved triumph:

- Thank you all, the counter-terrorist operation has been successfully completed. Criminals destroyed.

Did they break the door to the neighboring apartment?

I jump to the window and peer out the gap between the curtains. The machine gunners wander off to the bus that has arrived, the tank turns to exit.

I relax, return the chair to its original position and fall into it exhausted.

“Thank you, Lord.” And enlighten me. Advise me, Creator of Creators, Creator of Creators! Admonish me.

I don’t have time to kneel down, but he will forgive. It is necessary to call Marina back, to warn, so as not to be scared of the torn lawn. She should be driving up soon.

I take an iPhone out of my pocket and find the number.

- Marin!

“Ah, it's you, Petya,” a Marinin voice is heard.

- Where are you?

- Coming home.

- Home? I ask again, bewildered.

- Listen, I got to you, and there are mask shows. Everything is blocked and not allowed, just near your entrance. I couldn’t get through, it was busy with you. What happened?

- Counter-terrorism operation.

“I understood that,” Marina says sadly. “I stood for a while, and then I went home, sorry.” Romantic mood down the drain.

“Okay,” I reply, because there is nothing more to say.

- Do not worry.

“And you too, Marin.” Until next time, probably. Release on Monday, I’ll call on Tuesday.

I press to hang up.



7.



There is nowhere to hurry. Slowly, I clean the table: champagne in the refrigerator, a tablecloth in the dresser, glasses in the sideboard. Dust from the ceiling attacked the glasses, but reluctance to wipe. Then wipe it.

I sit down at the computer and try to work. In vain - a phone rings. Will they leave me today or not?

I pull out the iPhone and hold it on my outstretched hand for a while. The number is unfamiliar. The mobile phone does not fall silent.

“Yes,” I say, unable to stand it.

- Dear Muscovite! - the bot turns on. - In accordance with federal law 324-FZ, you have the right to free legal advice.

I press end call, then again I extend my hand with an iPhone. He immediately rings. Strange tonight, very strange ...

- I'm listening.

“Hello,” a female voice is heard.

Counting on politeness. The person will answer - the conversation will begin.

“Hello,” I answer obediently.

Alas for me, I'm polite.

- Do you have 2 minutes to participate in a opinion poll?

- No.

I put my iPhone in my pocket. I can’t work, I don’t have any thoughts about the Legacy code - I just sit there, clutching my head in my hands. And I’m not at all surprised when I hear the doorbell ring. Something was about to happen today - could not help but happen. Initially, it went to this.

I put my hand on the shotgun on the table and slowly peer into the camera. Lord again? They told him to clean away. Here is indefatigable!

- Whats up? I say tiredly.

From the speakers you hear:

- You asked to save you, and I saved. They also asked for admonition. I brought you admonition. Open the door, please.

- You're alone? I clarify, not knowing why.

“I am triune, but it’s a long time to explain,” they are in charge of the door. - Consider that one.

- Anyway, I do not let strangers into the apartment.

- I am not human.

I am exhausted, depressed and embittered, but I have no strength left. I can no longer resist the fate that decided everything for me. And I am breaking.

“Now I will open the door,” I pronounce decisively into the microphone. “If you’re not alone, Lord, you’ll get a mustard mustard in your nostril.” If you make a sharp movement - the same thing. You come in with your hands up, palms facing me. If something seems suspicious to me, I shoot without hesitation. Do you understand everything, bitch?

“I get it,” comes the speakers.

- Then come in.