Ode to the Ideal OS

Welcome to your weekly Creativity Booster-Shot (abbrev. “C? BS!”), denizens.  There is more Fangboner, but it’s not quite as polished as I’d like, so in a few days perhaps.

In the meantime, I’ve had this idea for a computer interface running around in my head for some time now, but since I’m not a coder and it has yet to fit into a story I can find time to write, there hasn’t seemed a good way to describe it.

So I wrote it out in a half-serious poem.  Called, guilelessly enough, Operating System. (And thinking about it, I suppose it counts as a What If, too.  Woot for efficiency!)

Enjoy the poem or, if you don’t like it, at least enjoy that there is a poem about someone’s favorite imaginary OS.  I know that makes me happy.  ;)

Operating System

Gloves can be distinguished to look at,

Gloves can be supple to feel,

I want invisible gloves of infinite power,

To play music in the air and make things real.

Forget all this right-clicking bullshit

I gaze up at my transparent screen

Continents of work are laid out before me

Almost all of the menus unseen.

The fingers of my right hand are common

And quick, and subconsciously smooth

So each one embodies a usual function:

Touch to copy, to close, to move.

And the lesser the finger in neural heirarchy

The lesser its new divine power

That damn ring-finger, pianist’s bane,

Should barely be used once an hour.

And the same careful planning handicaps the left

Or whichever’s the nondominant hand

God has no time to re-train its whole brain

We should crook our mighty finger and command.

Now I play the orchestra of all my deeds,

Writ before me like thoughts in the sky

The machine at my feet invisible as physics,

Fit like a glove to my mind.