來個英文版的：
Story of A Hard Disk
I am a hard disk, st380021a, performing my ordinary duty in an ordinary desktop computer. Others often have the impression that we are white collars working in high-tech industry with decent jobs and pleasant conditions. It may well appear so, if you are only fixing your eyes on the nice-looking white computer case. The truth is, for a small desktop like this, the confined cell and dusty air offer us nothing but a dull life. We can cope with some text processing or video playing, but when running big software or games, the highly demanding work drives us nuts and sometimes the system is forced to shut down. The technology in our industry develops so fast that a new generation surfaces almost every two or three years. We all here feel pressured with an uncertainty about our future. Every newcomer enters here with pride and ambition, but when you look at them a few years later, they all have the same deadpan face.
My colleagues here all dream of opportunities to work in other computer cases. To them, a laptop computer would be the utopia in which they can travel world by air and rest in five-star hotels. All they need to do would be to run a word processor occasionally and chat on the Internet for fun. For me, however, I prefer to work in some large server, particularly in a bright and clean computer room. It may require longer working hours, but considering the welfare and benefits, it is worth it; 24 hours non-stop power supply, UPS, RAID, hot swap, simple group work, what an easy life!! Unlike the work we do here, they only run key applications and it is an honorable job indeed. However I know that hard disks who work there are high achievers, SCSI, or SCSI II, or Fibre Channel. For an IDE like me, I would give anything just to get a job in one of their workstations.
Sometimes I wonder, if I had been a little more diligent in the factory, my life might be different now. I could have been made into a SCSI, or a laptop hard disk at least. I tell myself maybe it is all about fate. I never complain, unlike the Memory. He often complains about the complexity of his Motherboard Department, grumbling about how incompatible he is with those Johnny-come—lately memory chips, and how Network Interface Card and TV Card dislike each other.
I don’t have many friends, and Memory is one of my close contacts. He is a skinny fellow while I am plump. He is swift but I am always slow. We came to this desktop at the same time. He talks, talks and talks, while I just listen with my mouth shut. I would say he hasn’t got a brain in his head. Despite his English name, Memory, ironically, his memory is like a sieve. He forgets everything after a sleep, no matter how significant it might be. I talk very little, but I remember every detail. He said technical work was no good for a man as melancholic as me and sooner or later I would be a victim of schizophrenia. Confident in my capacity, I only smiled at his words.
Sometimes I do enjoy my simple work. Monitor has the master to stare at him all the time, CD-ROM has to deal with CDs coming from who-knows-where, while I just work with documents, just read and write. It is a life of simplicity and peace.
Until that day…
I still remember vividly how the computer case was opened inch by inch, and how the light grew brighter and brighter. Even the air danced with rhythm. I saw her... She was so slim in shining silver case. Her elegance reminded me of my clumsiness and put me to shame. I couldn't compose myself until we were connected with a cable. In that split second when power was turned on, I sensed an unusual electric current. (Memory later mocked me, saying the electric current changed each time there was a newcomer, the same with the arrival of that inexperienced memory last time. Spare me the nonsense!). I tried my best to remain calm with a professional manner. I tried to hide my feeling and simply gave her the proper introduction to the working conditions.
Later I came to know her, ibm-djsa220, a laptop hard disk，working in the laptop computer of my master’s friend. She came here to copy some files. We chatted. It was good fun. She told me many interesting stories about her journey, shared her experience of traveling by air and described how it was different from bumpy trips on buses. She also showed me many beautiful photos, interesting travel journals. The story of her falling from a table was almost too much for me to bear. While I tried to flaunt myself outrageously with jokes and stories downloaded from the Internet, she laughed happily, and I was amazed that I could actually be so eloquent.
One morning, when the power was turned on, I found nothing but an empty socket left in the place where she had stayed. My seven days of happiness ceased at that moment. I never saw her again. I regret that we didn’t exchange email addresses, and that I never had the chance to say goodbye.
During my break times, I would bring back to mind that beam of light which penetrated into our computer case on that special day.
The word “memory” does not have much meaning for me and what I have there are files she left. I sort them out neatly and place them in my frequently-visited space. Each time when the access arm runs over them, a faint happiness is refreshed in my body. One day, unexpectedly, my master asked me to delete these files. I tried to argue that there was still much room, but my battle didn’t make a difference. For the first time in my life, I disobeyed an order from him. I furtively reconfigured the file allocation table, hid these files in a secret place and marked it as “Bad Sector”. No one would access a bad sector and there my memory can remain.
I often drop by to see them, although I never stay long.
Days repeat themselves over and over again. Read and write … read and write… I thought I would go on like this forever, until one day, my master wanted to install XP and found there was not enough space. He discovered the bad sector and tried to fix it. I rejected his order and soon a new command came: FORMAT
After a long hesitation, (I reported) ….
track 0 bad，disk unusable |
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发表于 2006-4-20 16:35:00
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