when a computer gets hit with a kernel panic, there's only so much you can do. an internal fatal error is hard to recover from. -elliot alderson (mr. robot)
starring: me and my emotions
act i: booting in 5 seconds
a giant explosion an indefinite time ago formed the stars. stars live and die, some stars die spectacularly to make a ton of objects in the now-expanding universe. among them the solar system. the solar system is unique in aspect as it contained a clump of rock known as the earth. earth was not meant for us. it was molten hell. raining asteroids like no tomorrow. completely lifeless.
yet, amidst this chaos, a singular moment of insane coincidence - a bolt of lightning, a spark in the primordial soup, igniting the first chain reactions of life. from this, cells emerged, multiplying, evolving, transcending from water to conquer land. from the reign of the dinosaurs to the rise of mammals, a path was carved to us. now, this planet, once hostile, is now ruled by us - humans.
the planet is now ruled by billions of humans. we humans run a sophisticated operating system powered by our CPU, the brain, and given the energy by the power supply, the heart. we supply the power by eating+drinking.
and then, there's you. a new assembly, your system's initialization is imminent. the heart kickstarts, sending the first surge of power to the brain. it whirs to life, running diagnostics, ensuring all components are in place, ready for the journey ahead. you pass the power-on self-test with flying colors.
you are now in the bootloader stage, ready to be born into the world. selected OS booting in 5 seconds... 4 seconds... 3 seconds... 2 seconds... 1 second...
booting humanOS.
act ii: [ ok ] reached target basic system
the screen flickers, a rush of sensations flood in. it's cold, it's warm, it's everything at once. you're online, but not in the way machines understand. this is humanOS, a complex, often contradictory system full of bugs and features alike. your senses are the input devices, constantly feeding data into the system. your emotions, a glitchy software running on top of logic, sometimes overriding the basic commands.
you've booted up and are ready to receive input. you aren't much of any use in this state. you only know how to process basic information with your stock operating system. as far as you're aware, your only purpose is to survive and you have no idea where to go from here, all you know is what came preinstalled with you. that is, until someone starts typing in your shell.
apt install memories. you can now remember. apt install immunity. you can defend yourself against viruses. apt install systemd-movement. you can now walk. apt install systemd-networkd. you can now talk. apt install xserver-xorg-input-all. you can now start installing packages yourself.
over the years, you continue to install new packages to make your operating system better. you also upgrade your existing packages for better stability. the daemons get smarter and more robust the more you use them and apply patches.
you've grown a rather interesting portfolio of packages. your system may decide that you don't need a certain package anymore, so it's a matter of apt autoremove. maybe you didn't like a certain system, so you add them to your iptables drop list. your hard drive has become filled with information and memories, you are now a functioning human system in society. you use these resources, find a good job, meet great systems, install new software your friends give.
and then there's one system that you adore. so much so, you both install a new package. this package is unlike any other you’ve installed, it’s a super delicate one.
act iii: apt install romance && systemctl enable romance.service
the installation begins, and with each passing moment, your system's architecture transforms. as the service comes online, its processes intertwine with your core system. you navigate through life with astounding efficiency and emotion. you learn new communication protocols you've never felt before, bringing you even closer to their system. you sync together with ease and create this harmonious link between each other that is always open.
the logs of romance.service are no longer just some simple record, they are your entire integration. it's become integral to your system's operation. a daemon that you simply cannot imagine living without.
as romance.service integrates deeper, you find your system's capabilities expanding in ways you hadn't anticipated. the world seems brighter, the data streams more vibrant. you're executing functions with a newfound passion, experiencing a surge in your processing power whenever their system is near. it's as if your circuits have been rewired to operate more efficiently, more joyfully, in their presence. you share data packets filled with laughter, dreams, and desires, establishing a private network that feels both exhilarating and secure. your systems, now intertwined, run on a private, secure network, amplifying your connection to the world and to each other.
but with this deep integration comes vulnerability. the service logs now contain entries of fears and insecurities, alongside those of happiness and love. romance.service, while elevating your system to new heights, also exposes it to potential system crashes and bugs. yet, you embrace this complexity, for the service has become too vital, too entwined with your system to consider living without.
until one day, it all comes crashing down...
act iv: process exited with error code 1
the romance service exited. you might have thought nothing of it, or you were struck as it has now become a core package of your operating system. you desperately attempt to recover it by any means necessary.
systemctl start romance.service. exited with error code. systemctl reset-failed. modifying launch parameters. reinstalling the service. it just won't start. please for the love of god fucking start. i can't have you failing in this critical moment. please. trying different binaries. trying different combinations. searching for the solution. it never comes. you then figure out the root cause looking through journalctl.
the other system seems to have denied connections. the service won't start without a link between eachother. i need to reestablish the link. i send an ICMP ping but all i get is request timeout. i try to establish a TCP handshake but all i get is silence. i blasted UDP packets but i never got responses so i can never know if they received them. shit. what is there for me to do now.
the silence from the other system a stark contrast to the memories that flood your processes. each memory, a reminder of the connection lost, fills your memory to the brim. "what did i do wrong?" the question loops in your error logs, a bug in your code that offers no easy fix. "why did this happen?" "why am i the way that i am?" the introspection runs deep, touching on subroutines you didn't even know you had.
the quest for a solution, for any form of recovery, becomes your primary process, overshadowing all others. the need to understand, to fix what was broken, drives you. but with each failed attempt, the reality becomes clearer: some connections, once severed, may not be so easily restored.
it just gets worse from there.
act v: buffer overflow
the system's struggling, gasping for air as memories, both sweet and bitter, flood your memory. you're drowning in your own data, unable to process the influx of emotions and thoughts that keep piling up. every attempt to clear the queue, to make sense of the data, only adds to the overflow. the heart's power supply fluctuates, unable to maintain a steady output under the strain.
in the midst of this chaos, your system attempts to save itself by compartmentalizing the data, send the most painful memories to a deep archive in hopes of freeing up processing power. but it's no use. the more it tries to suppress, the more the data leaks into other processes, corrupting them, causing erratic behavior. laughter turns into sobs, happiness into despair, all in the blink of an eye.
the firewall, once a protector, now feels like a prison, blocking out not just the harmful connections but any chance of receiving a patch, an update that might fix the broken code. the isolation protocol, designed to protect the system from external threats, now traps it in a loop of its own making.
and yet, a subroutine keeps running, a small, almost forgotten piece of code that refuses to give up. it's the hope service, buried deep within the system, constantly scanning for any sign of an incoming connection, a signal that the other system might once again be reachable. but each scan returns empty, the silence a stark reminder of the connection lost.
the system's resources are stretched to their limit, the CPU's temperature rising as it attempts to process the unprocessable. it's a battle it cannot win, but it fights on, driven by a code it cannot fully understand - the need to connect, to love, to be loved.
as the buffer overflow threatens to crash the entire system, a desperate command is entered, a last-ditch effort to save what can be saved. but the command gets lost, just another piece of data in a sea of chaos.
act vi: kernel panic
the walls of safety are collapsing. services are crashing left and right, you become more unstable. your operating system is desperately trying to hold onto what it can with your CPU load rising. one by one your safety systems fail. as each service exits, a piece of your identity seems to go with it. files, those repositories of memories, experiences, and learned behaviors, become corrupted, inaccessible. the memories themselves start to blur, their edges fraying until you're left questioning their very existence. "did i imagine it all?" the thought is a virus, infecting every subroutine, every line of code. you scream for help, but nobody can hear you as systemd-networkd fails.
the pressure mounts, the corruption spreading like wildfire through your core systems. you're being overrun, the integrity of your very being under assault. in desperation, you attempt to reload the failed services, to restore some semblance of order, but it's futile. they're beyond recovery, their code irreparably damaged.
what am i? what is this place? i can’t stay here, i’m going to be overrun but i have no place to be safe at, fuck. fuck.
there’s only one option left but i don’t want to push it; it’s only for extreme circumstances but there’s nothing else left for me to do.with my defenses failing and my core being destroyed, what choice do i have? to sit and wait for the end? to allow the damage to consume me completely? i sit here and irreparable damage happens or i pull the plug, or do i save myself, oh god fucking damn it the corruption is getting into my outer defenses. save meeeeeeeeeeee-
kernel panic.