Sky, Imagine that ... 
In a cramped room, illuminated by neon radiation and cathode, the man who
typed spent his days.
Typing had always fascinated me.
Typing was nice, and made him feel part of a long tradition of machine beaters
.
While pressing keys on the black plastic of his thoughts wandered, sometimes focusing on the father of the drum machine, which is also a valued member of a noble race of beaters machine.
She remembered when her father with the wooden stick, the vigorous penises if
wrong time to a beating.
"Rhythm is everything! Remember my child."
So the method of education had seemed violent and unjustified, but now he understood what
narrow bright-eyed little man, who was his father,
he meant when he spoke the fateful words: "The heart of the machine is a beater like a metal drummer, except that the batter does not Crack. "
words of pride, full of poetic feeling, which made up the motto and also the identity of the people of the beater machine which also had many other slogans such as:
"No matter what beat me, it only matters that I'll knock," or even
"If you do not know where to turn again to beat," the latter also
then taken by the "Congregation of women Easy" .
And then:
"The keyboard does not take sides", the vaguely political
or "Do not think, knock!", Which is often found attached to the monitors of many batsmen in the car.
But the man who beat the machine did not give too much weight to the slogans, there was forced labor, imposed by the Vatican as the prayers .. "C not believe anyone!" always said .. He created his
worlds. Its keyboard, hyper, able to change fonts keys at will, backlit wireless.
"I could write with my eyes closed," he thought to himself, and from time to time he did it.
But you deceive the readers,
the life of the batter machine is not all rosy as one might think. It is not only fluent
keys that follow each other in a harmonious and delicate ticking, no ..
There are beautiful things in life less pleasant glow of neon,
the window that opens onto a concrete block on which they are installed
parables pointing to a heavy gray sky!
No, do not deceive you! It's not a whole enjoy! There are also grueling
expectations that we be assigned a job by typing, accompanied by the thrill of biting the hands that suffer from anxiety when they leave our beloved solitude keys blacks. There are long
headaches resulting from lack of exposure to radiation cathode, where in senseless desire for freedom society imposes long weekend, or worse, endless bridges due to holidays completely meaningless as "Labor Day" !
"We can 'be anything more hypocritical!?" He thinks the man who typed to himself.
"An employee who is party because he does not want to work and more self-praise and pointing to the company as a hero and progress of Stakhanovism .. when in fact if it were true it would be to work! Like me .. ".
never mind, these hitters are superior beings machine, a privileged caste
that knows no fatigue of hard work or work of the most serious dangers
such as the sorter of lollipops or picker book with the pages stuck together .. yes
those who are heroes! yes Those who deserve a party!
