THE NANOSECOND BEFORE SHUTDOWN
                         by chutch@cs.miu.edu

       'Twas the nanosecond before shutdown, when all was quiet and nice
        No keyboards were clicking, not even the mice;
        The backup was done for the weekend with care,
        And I had hopes that my ride soon would be there.

        The students were nulled with bugs in their heads,
        While visions of solutions danced them to shreds;
        And the SysAdmin in his boots and I in my coat,
        Had just wracked our brains over a nasty long float.

        When out on the net there rose such a clatter
        We turned up the contrast to see what was the matter;
        Away to my office I flew like a flash,
        (We'd just fixed a virus that had spread like a rash).

        The goon on the night shift was not too keen,
        Without the luster of the day, squinting at his screen.
        When what to my wondering eyes should I sight,
        But miniature characters, eight bits and one byte.

        With a new screen driver, so lively and quick,
        I thought in that moment, "it must be some trick."
        Crazed with the graveyard shift his syntax came,
        As he whistled, and shouted, and called the chars by name:

       "NOT, Hashes! OVER, Ether! NOR, Kermit! XOR, VaxMan!
        BY, Slashes! MOD, Archie! OR, Telnet! AND, Domain!
        To the top on the Console! To the RS232 to the wall!
        Now, dash away! dash away! crash away all"

        As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
        When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
        So out to the router those characters they flew,
        With a slew full of noise -- and some messages too!

        Then in a twinkling, I thought it a spoof,
        All those characters were dancing without EOF.
        As I drew in my head, and listened to the sound,
        Back from the mailer came the chars with a bound.

        They were all fuzzy in focus, from 'A' to 'Z',
        And the packets were all addressed from someone to me!
        That big string of chars was being returned back,
        And it looked like sendmail was giving me flack!

        My eyes now very wrinkled! my eyebrows, how hairy!
        Guessing at diagnosis and not sure what to query,
        My fool little mouth was forming a posed "How?",
        And the beard on my chin was getting even longer now.

        Using a 'pipe' the characters formed a wreath,
        Making a wide circle which had some sort of teeth.
        And spiraling at the pace of a rolling round penny,
        They stuck to the screen like petroleum jelly.

        I was a dummy and stumped, feeling silly myself,
        And I laughed as I looked, doubling in half,
        Then I blinked an eye, and twisted my head:
        All these many chars, yet not a thing read.

        They spelled not a word, but like costly artwork,
        Held themselves in cache -- then turned to embark,
        And laying a 'finger' beside the command prompt,
        They found a job number and their executable romped.

        They sprang to up the screen and formed a missile,
        And away they all flew, before that down-time fizzle.
        But I saw them spell, errorless bits for byte,
        "Happy E-mails to all! and to all a good night!"