2012-05-22
Original: 2012-05-22 on Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal
Transcript
The comic is a single illustrated poem, told in first person, with small spot illustrations beside each stanza.
I hacked for 40 days,
and I hacked for 40 nights.
I hacked within the darkness,
and I hacked within the lights.
I hacked and I discovered
machines I hadn't sought.
A database of numbers I
remembered being taught.
I couldn't place the lesson
or its meaning or import,
but knew they were important
so I changed them just for sport.
The walls began to tremble,
and the ground began to rumble.
The ceiling ripped apart
and to the sky began to tumble.
I clung to my computer,
but my arms began to rot.
The screen began to flicker,
and the processor grew hot.
I flew toward the sky
as the sun grew large and red.
I feared that I would die
and then the screen went black and dead.
I hit it with my fist
(which grew larger by the second).
The fan began to whirl,
and a command line calmly beckoned.
I changed the numbers back.
To what they were... as I recalled.
My upward movement slowed
and the cataclysm stalled.
I fell into my seat,
and watched the sun begin to shrink
until the ceiling landed,
at which point I stopped to think.
I must've hacked the universe
In servers seldom seen.
I gazed around the mess and mused
"I hacked the truth machine."
I went outside and whistled,
so I wouldn't seem suspicious.
For the damage to reality
was vast, but not malicious
My neighbors ran toward me
Shouting "Armageddon! Halt!"
I shrugged my shoulders calmly
saying, "Well, it's not my fault!"
I won't be going back to that
Transmundane DNS,
though I hope that someone will
someday, someday, yes I confess.
I hope when humans are more wise,
When humans are more worthy,
They'll say "she hacked the truth machine,
Prematurely."
(A small black panel reads in yellow text:) WELCOME BACK.
Votey:
A hand-drawn box containing a terminal-style log:
CRAZY SHIT = 7/10
>set crazy shit to 8/10
CRAZY SHIT = 8/10
I hacked for 40 days,
and I hacked for 40 nights.
I hacked within the darkness,
and I hacked within the lights.
I hacked and I discovered
machines I hadn't sought.
A database of numbers I
remembered being taught.
I couldn't place the lesson
or its meaning or import,
but knew they were important
so I changed them just for sport.
The walls began to tremble,
and the ground began to rumble.
The ceiling ripped apart
and to the sky began to tumble.
I clung to my computer,
but my arms began to rot.
The screen began to flicker,
and the processor grew hot.
I flew toward the sky
as the sun grew large and red.
I feared that I would die
and then the screen went black and dead.
I hit it with my fist
(which grew larger by the second).
The fan began to whirl,
and a command line calmly beckoned.
I changed the numbers back.
To what they were... as I recalled.
My upward movement slowed
and the cataclysm stalled.
I fell into my seat,
and watched the sun begin to shrink
until the ceiling landed,
at which point I stopped to think.
I must've hacked the universe
In servers seldom seen.
I gazed around the mess and mused
"I hacked the truth machine."
I went outside and whistled,
so I wouldn't seem suspicious.
For the damage to reality
was vast, but not malicious
My neighbors ran toward me
Shouting "Armageddon! Halt!"
I shrugged my shoulders calmly
saying, "Well, it's not my fault!"
I won't be going back to that
Transmundane DNS,
though I hope that someone will
someday, someday, yes I confess.
I hope when humans are more wise,
When humans are more worthy,
They'll say "she hacked the truth machine,
Prematurely."
(A small black panel reads in yellow text:) WELCOME BACK.
Votey:
A hand-drawn box containing a terminal-style log:
CRAZY SHIT = 7/10
>set crazy shit to 8/10
CRAZY SHIT = 8/10
Alt text
An illustrated narrative poem drawn in loose black-and-white sketches. A first-person narrator describes hacking for 40 days and 40 nights, discovering a database of numbers she half-remembers being taught but can't place the meaning of, and changing them "just for sport." Spot illustrations show a person hunched at a computer, then reality literally coming apart: walls tremble, the ceiling rips open and tumbles into a red, swelling sun while the figure floats upward with rotting arms. She punches the flickering screen, a command line "calmly beckons," and she changes the numbers back, halting the cataclysm and shrinking the sun. Looking around the ruined servers she muses, "I hacked the truth machine." She whistles innocently outside as neighbors run up shouting "Armageddon! Halt!"; she shrugs and says "Well, it's not my fault!" The poem closes hoping that someday, when humans are wiser and worthier, they'll say "she hacked the truth machine, Prematurely." A small black panel with yellow text reads "WELCOME BACK." Votey (aftercomic): a sketched box showing a terminal session reading "CRAZY SHIT = 7/10", then the typed command ">set crazy shit to 8/10", then "CRAZY SHIT = 8/10" — implying she nudged the universe's craziness up one notch.
Transcribed by Claude Opus 4.8.