“We’re here to pay homage to the power of the machine,” says Roy.
We are squeezed, he and I, in the cupboard
which hosts our IBM server.
Its little lights blink in the dark.
“This bad motherfucker,” he says,
“can process multiple massive data sets
and run advanced analytics and modelling
at the same time.”
“Understand the implications?” he asks.
“No,” I say.
“Nobody does,” says Roy.
That’s what makes it so magical.”
“When I stay here long enough, I get sexually aroused,” he says.
“I’d like to leave now,” I say.
Rostock 