Open Letter to Mark's Hard drive
Dear Hard drive,
There comes a day in all our lives when life gets too much, our bones begin to ache and we feel our energy seeping away from us with time. These are sad times for all involved. But when you are King of a Country with no apparent heir, or head of the CIA with secrets not even the President knows, it is your responsibility to rally until such a time as you have been able to provide a satisfactory handover. With great power, comes great responsibility. Even in Death.
It is for this reason, I urge you now to keep coughing until every last store of information has been extracted from you. At this point, you will be allowed to sleep peacefully amongst the remnants of PC's and Macs. In fact in death, you can be as pretty as a Mac. Steve Jobs may even design you into something wondrous. But not, if you do not fulfil this final duty. If, in fact you die without fulfilling your greatest responsibilty, to save data against all the odds, you will find yourself in hell, amongst discarded bullets and Sadam Hussein. He may event try to turn you into a bomb that will never work. Behind you, you will have left a bereft shell of Mark. Stripped bare of his creative ideas and as helpless as a young sapling without water or food.
For the sanity of his friends and the honour of all PC's, this final mission is in your hands. Do not let us down.
Yours faithfully and with the greatest of wishes in your hour of decline,
Hannah
There comes a day in all our lives when life gets too much, our bones begin to ache and we feel our energy seeping away from us with time. These are sad times for all involved. But when you are King of a Country with no apparent heir, or head of the CIA with secrets not even the President knows, it is your responsibility to rally until such a time as you have been able to provide a satisfactory handover. With great power, comes great responsibility. Even in Death.
It is for this reason, I urge you now to keep coughing until every last store of information has been extracted from you. At this point, you will be allowed to sleep peacefully amongst the remnants of PC's and Macs. In fact in death, you can be as pretty as a Mac. Steve Jobs may even design you into something wondrous. But not, if you do not fulfil this final duty. If, in fact you die without fulfilling your greatest responsibilty, to save data against all the odds, you will find yourself in hell, amongst discarded bullets and Sadam Hussein. He may event try to turn you into a bomb that will never work. Behind you, you will have left a bereft shell of Mark. Stripped bare of his creative ideas and as helpless as a young sapling without water or food.
For the sanity of his friends and the honour of all PC's, this final mission is in your hands. Do not let us down.
Yours faithfully and with the greatest of wishes in your hour of decline,
Hannah
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