I took a certification test for network security today. I passed. What was the experience like?
It was…it was…harrowing.
(maniacal laughter)
Sorry, sorry. It’s just that I’ve spent the last five weeks pouring arcane information into my mind, twisting my brain to hold information that man was simply not meant to know, and that…that tends to have a bit of an effect. A little mental backlash. So what was the experience really like?
Only the genre of sword & sorcery can truly convey the experience…
###
Behold! For long years have I studied the arcane path of the technomancer, and the secrets of Windows are mine, and Mac OS X yields to my commands, and the daemons of Linux come at my summons. Yet ever these is the need for greater knowledge, for greater power, to delve ever deep into the arcane secrets of technomancy.
So at dawn I arose and took up my staff and cloak, my USB Key of Fourfold Gigabytes and my Multitool Of Many Things, and I went forth to be tested. Long I journeyed through empty lands, snow-choked and wreathed in mist, the sky and the plains alike gray and lifeless. And at last I came through many perils to the fabled Testing Center, wherein technomancers come to be tested…or defeated.
There the aged Monks of the Testing Center greeted me.
“Hail, technomancer,” they spake. “Present us now with two Tokens of Identification, one of them with a current picture, or else we shall cast you out, and your registration fee shall be forfeit forevermore!”
But I had prepared for this cunning trap, and produced my two tokens of identification, both current, and the Monks took them, and bowed before me.
“Then we bid you welcome, technomancer, and urge you to brace yourself. For here your skill, your knowledge, and your cunning shall be tested. But first swear to never reveal the questions upon our test to any living soul, yea, even to your mother or your father or your espoused bride, or even to God Himself. Reveal our secrets, and your lineage shall be cursed forever, and your children and your children’s children shall be abhorrent and outcast, even unto the ending of days. Also, you will be banned from all Testing Centers nationwide.”
“I do so swear,” I spake.
“Now lay aside your staff and cloak and other accoutrements of your power and skill,” spake the Monks. “For only with your will and mind alone may you face the dread Daemon of Testing.”
I did as they bid, and laid aside my staff and cloak, my USB Key of Fourfold Gigabytes and my Multitool Of Many Things.
“Also, turn out your pockets,” said the Monks. “You wouldn’t believe some of the crap folks try to sneak into the tests these days, let me tell you.”
I did as they bid, and the Monks inspected the interior of my pockets to their satisfaction.
“Now proceed forth into the Chamber of Testing,” spake the Monks, “and may fortune smile upon you.”
The hour of doom had come at last, and I strode alone into the Chamber, and beheld the dread Daemon of Testing.
Twelve feet tall he stood, his face hidden beneath a mask and crown of iron. From head to to black plate armored him, black and hard as a miser’s heart, adorned with the names and sigils of those he had defeated. On his arm he bore a firewall shield, and in his hand he wielded a mighty spear. Written upon its shaft were BLUESCREEN OF DEATH and HARD DRIVE FAILURE and WINDOWS VISTA and other words of fearful doom.
The Daemon of Testing looked upon me and laughed with scornful derision.
“You are to be my foe, craven worm?” he spake, his voice as thunder. “Fool! I have faced men of skill broad and deep, men who have practiced the technomantic arts from the ancient days of MS-DOS 3.3 and earlier, yea, even the elder days of UNIX when the Internet was yet young, and I crushed them all! I drove them before me, and tread their PCs beneath my feet, and the lamentations of their women were as music to my ears. And you presume to face me, charlatan who claims the title of technomancer? You, with your feeble knowledge and petty tricks? I shall overthrow you utterly!”
Despair filled me, and fear threatened to overthrow my reason, and I thrice-cursed myself as a fool. What folly had driven me to this? What rank madness? Better to have stayed home than to have attempted this lunacy. Too high had I reached, too boldly had I dared, and at last had I brought ruin crashing down upon my head.
But no! Fear is the killer of the will, and only through the will could I triumph in this place. And should this be my defeat, I vowed, then I would make such a defeat that men would still speak of it and tremble seven generations hence!
“I tire of your haughty words, braggart,” I spake. “If my defeat is so easily accomplished, then why have you not already wrought it? Come forth, and let us see if you have the strength to match your boasts.”
The Daemon of Testing roared, and lifted its spear, and the point blazed with flames the color of a Bluescreen of Death. “Then perish, worm!”
And lo! Long we struggled, and fierce was our contest. The air writhed with encrypted networking protocols, and we spoke Command Line Utilities that shredded the very air, and we traced the secret runes of Network Topology Diagrams, each more arcane than the last. The Testing Center shuddered and rang with our battle, the reports rebounding from the heavens themselves. My mind and will strained to their uttermost, every scrap of learning and knowledge struggling against the Daemon’s insidious power.
Until at last the Daemon’s spear was shivered and his shield shattered, and I had the mastery, and I cast down my opponent, and he fell to the earth at my feet.
“I am vanquished!” spake the Daemon. “Sorely have I underestimated you, and I am overthrown. Truly, you have earned the title you have claimed. Take my gauntlet, and deliver it unto the Monks, and they shall print forth a scroll proclaiming your triumph.”
And then the Daemon shivered into dust, and boasted no more.
Exhausted from my battle, I took the proffered gauntlet, and issued from the Chamber of Testing, where the Monks stood to issue congratulations.
“You have been victorious,” spake the Monks, “and succeeded where many have fallen. Hail, technomancer, and receive now from our printer the scroll of victory!”
The printer made a strange grinding noise, and nothing issued forth.
“Um,” spake the Monks, smiting the printer until the scroll of victory issued forth. “Er. Sorry about that. Sometimes the printer jams up.”
-JM
Posted by JM 
