Divine Programming 101: EndOfUniverse()

Deleting everything makes it better!!
Deleting everything makes it better!!
/*
I've been toying with the idea of cataclysmic annihilation for some time now, but never got around to completing it. Something always got in the way - famines, floods, planting dinosaur bones around the place - and I was only able to make the most modest of adjustments. 

So much for spare time! 

But I'm finally proud to announce the release of a beta candidate. After several thousands of years, we're ready to test Armageddon, people! 

The code probably needs a tidy up here and there, but then so does the Universe. Ha ha!

I considered pair-programming with Allah, but he's a terrible coder, and would have probably just copied and pasted some awful snippet straight from Stack Overflow.

(Note to the wise: running this code will only affect your current reality. This system doesn't yet support parallel universe programming, if you believe in that sort of thing anyway.)

Thanks to everyone who believed in me, and kept rooting for the final destruction of time, space and all matter, dark or otherwise.

Yours in theoretical eternity,
God.

*/
/**
 * @description: This class, when instantiated, 
 * will trigger the end of the known Universe.
 * @version: 1.0.0
 * @author God
 */

class EndOfUniverse extends BeginningOfUniverse{
 
    constructor(super) {
       
        // first pause the
        // ongoing universe
        super.pause();
       
       // assign the current universe
       // to this instance
       this.universe = super.universe;

       // let's save the 
       // date so we know
       // exactly when
       // Armageddon took place.
       this.endTime = new Date();

       this.forgiveAllSins();
       this.startTheRapture();
       this.bigReverseBang();
    }

    forgiveAllSins() {
       console.warn('Hi! You are all forgiven!');
    }

    startTheRapture() {
       this.universe.filter(atom => {
          // filter out Christians from 
          // the universe
          // before destroying it.
          // Sorry in advance to all
          // other faiths, but
          // after the Jesus() update
          // there was no going back!
          return atom.contains('Christian') === false;
        }); 
    }

    bigReverseBang() {
       // this is the method
       // that basically
       // reduces everything to
       // nothing
       this.universe = this.universe.reduce(
          (reducedUniverse, atom) => {
              if (atom === undefined) {
                  return atom;
              }
          }, 
       []);
    }

    reset() {
        // Sorry, I haven't found a way 
        // to build a reset function
        // that doesn't take 14 billion years
        // of CPU time, let alone seven days! :)
    } 
} 

Pizza: the transdimensional constant

The meeting took place in the lower dining room of Dario’s. Plastic lemons, fake aspidistras, clogged toilets… an infelicitous atmosphere for anything other than privacy.

But the Bufula was good. We liked Bufula.

I’d arrived first to arrange tables, pre-order nibbles, and setup the temporal displacement cube.

The others began wamping one at a time into the WC. The pilot, the failed rocker, the one-eyed politician, the medieval librarian, the knife-throwing accountant. They stumbled out of the cubicle, arms and heads gyrating as though wrestling invisible octopodes, and hung their jumpsuits on the wall, over the yellowed paintings of Naples. We were as different as we were the same—lined faces, crooked legs, clipped fingernails—our universes had left their signature marks, but still we shared the same misanthropic grin, the same, simple acknowledgement that life will not only take capricious and inconvenient twists, but will do so at every opportunity. Continue reading “Pizza: the transdimensional constant”

Scene 24

There I was: cloaked in a Victorian coat and tails, in thirty-five degree heat and waiting for my sausage dog to finish squeezing one out under a tree.

All around me, thrashing like a school of tuna in a whirlpool were makeup artists, their assistants, camera crews and their assistants, boys chasing tangled chords, girls driving racks of plastic-wrapped suits between trucks, small men in yellow caps who seemed to do nothing but else but run up and down the set with coffee cups, and us – the extras – standing helplessly in the broiling sun, waiting for instructions from the loudspeaker. Continue reading “Scene 24”

@germanforayear: Travel and social media won’t change you

Transitory, on ice and breath, a sweeping movement of a coffee-stained Frankfurter Allgemeine. The check-in announcement screams at me as I exit arrivals, stone faces, no signs. Where is my welcoming party?

Thirty hours of cracking your bones in seat 32F and this is what you get, though it might be what you deserve. Nobody’s going to come to get you in GMT+1 except the stipple dreams that you coloured for yourself when you thought it was OK to exchange everything that defined you for a one-way ticket.

@germanforayeaTaxi smells like pretzels. How do u say ‘I need a f**king smoke’ auf Deutsch? #jetlagged

Continue reading “@germanforayear: Travel and social media won’t change you”

Love Me WiFi Whore

The refrigerator smells like it’s just run the equatorial marathon in a tweed jacket.

Opening the windows to the panting light of a Krakow morning, she recognises the red Volvo with the flat tyre across the street.  She waves at it. The price in the windscreen has gone down, but it’s still the most meaningful welcome back she’s had. Continue reading “Love Me WiFi Whore”

The big news

Derrick Foam was reading about Robin Gibbs’ death when Feather Hudson shot-put her monitor across the room. She’d heard the big news.

Derrick was modifying his email footer when another message appeared:

“Congrats. First task – fire Justine. Back next week. Sea’s the day. Clem.”

The attached photograph featured a groper lolling on the end of a harpoon. Continue reading “The big news”

Measuring Stars

The sound is proximate and consequential, like the crack of bone.

He wakes up and curls into a ball. He waits for a pain to tell him he’s broken something, or a betraying silence that says he has finally crushed his wife to death.

When his eyes adjust to the moonlight he realizes he is not in bed, but in the desert, alone and naked, and half-buried in sand. He raises his knees and finds a bowl of felled and splintered trees. Continue reading “Measuring Stars”