frank@scorplx.UUCP (Frank Pavelski) (08/28/84)
Food for the line eater.
An after dinner mint
ONE LAST BUG
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"But what does it matter?"
they said with a shrug.
"The customer's happy,
what's one little bug?"
But he was determined.
The others went home.
He spread out the program.
Deserted. Alone.
The cleaning men came.
The whole room was cluttered
with punch cards, core dumps;
"I'm close," he muttered.
His mumbling grew louder,
"Simple deduction!
I've got it! It's right!
Just change one instruction."
It still wasn't right,
as year followed year,
and strangers would query,
"Is that nut still here?"
He died at his console
of hunger and thirst.
They buried him next day
(face down, nine edge first).
The last bug in sight,
one small ant passing by,
saluted his tombstone
and whispered "Nice try."
Author unknown