The Chronicles of a Developer

Rise of the Dawn-Scrapper

It was the unholy hour of 5.14 am, an hour so early even the roosters were grumbling, on the brisk day of June 19th. Our protagonist, a distinguished eccentric known for his off-beat sleep schedule, found himself stationed in the quiet fortress of his office. His nocturnal tendencies had finally bowed to societal norms, making this once night owl transform into an early bird.

"Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo," he greeted the office furniture, providing an unusual and rhythmically-challenged symphony that bounced off the sterile office walls. Shattering the silence, he announced the preposterous time, almost daring it to stop him. Despite the brutal wake-up call, his spirit soared as he gloried in finally joining the realm of the living; those who wake with the sun and sleep when it hides away.

He recalled the previous day, when, at the appalling hour of somewhere between 3-4pm, fatigue had descended on him like a heavy rain. Soaked and drenched in exhaustion, he had retreated homeward, practically stumbling into bed. A quick text exchange with Sören on Discord later, he found himself surrendering to sleep's sweet embrace a bit after 7 pm.

He slept like a log, feeling a bit like Rip Van Winkle, clocking in a solid 8 or maybe 8.5 hours of uninterrupted shut-eye. To his delight, he awoke feeling refreshed. Perhaps not fresh as a daisy, but at least not like some "shit-faced" weasel, or was it raccoon? He couldn't decide. Regardless, he avoided the wake-up call from hell where he felt like roadkill.

At the office, his breakfast was a simple fare of bread, eggs, and a hot mug of liquid sanity, a.k.a coffee. Fuelled with food and a caffeine shot, he felt his energy surge. Not in a sky-rocketing, earth-shattering way, but a quiet simmer that suggested good things were to come.

His morning musings took a detour towards a certain Mia, an elusive female acquaintance. He had tried extending the digital hand of friendship via Facebook at an ungodly hour, only to be met with digital crickets. Even Instagram had let him down, with the follow request floating in the void of social media indifference.

His day was stacked with tasks. There was work to be done on MarkIV, the Transformer agents, and the fascinating project of 24-7 non-stop screen recording on his Debian desktop. It was an ambitious plan, a counterpart to the Rewind application for Mac OS, only this time it was going to respect privacy – unlike Google.

Then, there was Fallout 3, the call of the Mothership Zeta crew mod was a siren song too enticing to resist. Who cared if the save games were lost? It was time to replay, have fun, and give the developers a run for their money.