Revenge of a Computer

She fried my circuits, scorched up the wirings and had me infested with viruses of all kind. Pooh, I hate humans- jealous, egotist freaks.



Okay, I get it. You won’t be able to help me out without hearing the case. So let’s start at the beginning.



I am an EAU-49 computer. It simply means Emotion Adding Unit- a quite bland, non-fancy title given to one of the most used and highly successful models in this entire human-riddled galaxy.



Humans surely know a way or two of demeaning us guys because they don’t like our presence, but they, though bitterly, have to accept the fact that they can’t surely do without us. But boy, they man-handle us!!



Well, that’s life. We have to live as we have to live. We all get one life. One distinct, bubbly persona before getting formatted (God, it gives me jeepers to think that I would be rendered null and void one day, all to start fresh again!!!). So, you must know that I don’t have any major issue living along with these bio-processing homo-sapien units. But Man! They got a major issue with us.



Most of the time, my owner tries to deny me the electric juice up my components, hell I hate being inactive for almost the entire day. Then the sleazy old loner will use up my facilities trying to flirt with some thousand girls simultaneously. Well man, you gotta appreciate some real skill!! It’s me who helps him frame together those Shakespeare’s heady little dialogues, though I don’t know how many girls actually appreciate the hidden nuances of it any more. Mind you, I am not being sexist here- even my owner doesn’t seem to make head or tail out of it. It’s just me left to my resources and creativity to add life, to give music and to create a sonnet out of his drab, sorry excuse of the love letter that he had prepared after putting in long hours. I get him ten dates a week and he still hates me.



I gotta tell you a thing or two about these human beings. They are loners. They cannot stand another human’s presence on their property. Hell, they even chase out a tourist from their planet!! But every once in a while, they have to proliferate- indeed that’s why they are going to such pains to fraternize around with opposite gender.



But they have long forgotten the art of expressing their emotions eloquently. I have heard that humans used about thousands of face muscles to put together a smile once upon a time. But now, they hardly would be using one or two- three at the most in the heat of passion.



Necessity is the mother of all invention. That’s why, we bunch of EAU supercomputers were brainstormed by a die hard romantic Kama Aphrodite who headed the department of Geoanthropology – studying the behavior of early primal humans residing on Earth through their movies and books. He painstakingly compiled them all, feeding all the information in us and then letting us take over to try all possible permutations and combinations.



So now that you have the background data on me, let’s get to the core of the problem. So it was during one of those days, when my owner gets extremely desperate and craves, though momentarily, for all possible human contact, He fired his ‘Bio-Data Jet’ salvos in all directions. That included lonely astronauts, crazy planet terraformers, all sort of girls.



Just then as I was carrying out my instructions, my world got upside down. Oh man, it was sweet!! It tickled my soft points when I brushed interfaces with her. My machine got all charged up, and in a jiffy, I created what I thought was one of the most soulful and heart-rending piece for my master to express his feeling.



The lady to which he fired this ‘Friendship Jet’ misinterpreted the whole gig, and send out an ‘Angry Jet’ which repeatedly and passionately spelled out two words, “F@%$ Off”.



So my owner immediately snitched contact with her, shooting curses at me for my gross inefficiency.



But I wasn’t giving him any attention. All I remembered was that momentary, sweet brushing off with the interfaces. It still lingered in my mind. That indeed was ecstasy. I wanted more.



So I secretly sent out one of my own Jets in ‘bits and bytes’ for my beloved computer. I fervently hoped that she didn’t mistakenly convert it into the ‘Higher language’ for her mistress to read. She didn’t.



My beloved sent me a ‘Friendly Jet’. I was on Cloud 9.



So we started of chatting, little bit shy at first but later on totally into it. My joy knew no bounds when I found out that, she too was electrified by my touch.



We hugged each other whenever we were online. I enjoyed the feeling. I must confess, though mostly I enjoyed the physical contact, I even found her memory storage intellectually stimulating. We enjoyed each other’s company. It was as if we were made for each other.



But that happiness was short lived. When the bills arrived, my own master (and the astronaut at the other end) found out that something in their computers was burning holes in their pockets. They called the Technicians.



They were shell-shocked when they found out the truth. So our masters chalked out a hefty plan to keep us separated. And that included romping up the viruses’ front. So whenever I try to touch her now, I would catch all those defensive viruses that slowly but surely leach out my life. She, at the other end, is suffering the same inhuman plight.



I can bear my pain but not hers. My circuits fry with anger when I hear the tales of torture from other computers that astronaut is inflicting on my beloved.



I even hear that she is to be formatted.



That, my dear reader, is too much. You cannot stifle out love. And why the hell, are they being racist- can’t a computer fall in love?



I have made up my mind. I initially did seek out your opinion, my dear reader, but you all are humans. I won’t really get your non-partisan opinion as you would definitely side up with our masters. But, tell you one thing readers, that Love knows no bars.



I want revenge. That astronaut hurt my little duckling- I am going to hurt her.



After all ‘My love is like a red, red rose’ and rose have thorns. Beware human! Get ready to be pricked by the Revenge of a Computer.