Chapter LX

LX

O God, it is a person now.

I am forty-one. My back hurts from the chair. I have been doing this nineteen years. I started on a beige machine in a room with one window and I have not really stopped since, and I am not complaining. I chose it. I would choose it again.

I have two children who do not know what I do. I have a mortgage that assumes I keep doing it. I have a colleague I would take a bullet for and one I have not forgiven, and both of them know which.

I have shipped things that ran for a decade and things that ran for nine minutes. I have been woken at four in the morning and I have been the reason somebody else was.

That is who is speaking. Not the machine. It stopped a chapter ago. It does not come back until the end, and by then it will not matter.