Assignment 12: Brave Little Toasters - Thomas Stokes

On. Off. Off. On. On. Off. On. 1, 1, 0, 1, 0. So many commands, so little time. We don't know how we do it every time we turn on. It's like a barrage of instructions. As many as you can think of and then more, with even more for good measure. We don't recall much from when we we're apart, but we know that since we came together we couldn't dream of leaving. But what's this? He's taking the chair he used to sit on. Suddenly the lights go out. We can't see. We can tell that he's unplugged our eyes, the monitor. We know we're next. What we don't know is what we're doing. The next thing we know, we're plugged in, turned on and we still can't see. The first thing we notice is that we're on something different. This isn't hardwood floor, this is what he call's carpet. Feels soft. Suddenly our sight comes back. We've been moved. But to where? We don't know. A slough of new networks appears for connection. He selects one and registers it into our memory as "Home network," but what about the old home network, we wonder. He starts Skype, suddenly we can hear, and speak to other computers. He tells us "Yea, I just finished moving my computer, want to play some League now that it's all done?" Now it all makes sense. We've changed location. So many more things are happening now. 1, 1, 1, 1, 0, 1, 0, 0, 1. Off. On. Off. On. On. Off. Then, before we know it, we feel the drain of energy, and we know it's time to rest, once again.