Breakdown: the madness of a linux-addict

                                             The 9th of August 2017, the city of Copenhagen

For some days now the forces of fate has conspired against me. My already from sickness weary body has been dragged through endless, soul-ripping pains before the alter of the beloved idol - my only real joy through these months of illness. The benevolent deity had turned its back on the feeble mortal that lies before it, and refuses me its mystical Argebe light.

Linux the exhalted is no longer my friend.

The horrible conclusion which has been gradually obtruding itself upon my confused and reluctant mind is now an awful certainty. I will never again see the beloved face of K'da Plasma in my dimension-viewer. Only the rescue-console is sometimes allowed me, but for the rest of the time I am enveloped by the total and almost palpable blackness of screen freeze - locked out of my spiritual /home dir.

But I must not give up hope! The cultists of the secret Parisian Mageia sect must surely have a way to solve this painful predicament!

                                                             The 10th of August 2017 Copenhagen

Today I collected the object. Such things are not delivered by the normal postal service so I found myself in a small shop dealing in age-old candy and obsolete newspapers. In the back of the foul-smelling room several foreign types were playing a strange game on a big machine with small lights in all the colours of the rainbow. But in the dim light the carnival glow seemed both alarming and unnatural.

   “ What's your pleasure?” lisped the little Asian man behind the counter.
   “ I am here to get the... the... object,” I stuttered weakly, not only because of the fatigue from the short walk that had brought me here, but also from a strange terror that had been dormant inside me all morning.
   “I will need the number!”
I fumbled with the remote talking device, the only thing I still owned that contained a working instant of the dearest, secret God.
   “519786,” I said, and he handed me the object without further ado.
   “Remember,‟ he said, ”this object has 4096 logical sectors instead of 512. The oracle (and by this he meant the mystical Japanese Toshiba sibyl), is acting strange lately and problems could arise!‟

But as I had not understood one word of what he was saying and as the strange foreign smell of Indian food nauseated me, I just grabbed the thing and left the tenebrific bazar.

That evening I tried to reshape the hard little disks on my alter - and I did hear the voice of Linux the terrible elder God that I worship - Imagine the high spirits I was in when the next excruciating problem arose. The warning of the little Indian that I had taken so lightly was suddenly the most important thing in my life. Drakdisk the small furry familiar that I had learned to trust and love, the critter that had helped me make the divine puzzle of partitioning, wouldn't talk to me. (I should later learn that this might have something to do with the number magic that the disturbing, little easterner had mentioned.)

It is now close to twelve o'clock and the pain in my stomach is unbearable. But I have made contact to another familiar. It is a small gnomish apparition called G'parted and it tells me that I have to follow the rules of some hideous wizard of the horrid elder God M'ikro el'Soft. I will have to do this even though my magical object will not be used to its fullest. Hopefully I will see the idol tomorrow - or else I don't know what to do.

                                                                The 11th of August 2017 Copenhagen

I have contact - Linux is back! the pagan saints are again with me - Krita, Blendor, Ink Scape - I will be able to contact Steemit, community of the materialist monks - only small things need to be done know - my worries are over! I can post again!!

Inhabitants of R’lyeh - drawing made by the author