Sobriquet 56.2

Well, I have my computer back, with a brand-new hard drive installed. This means, of course, that I lost virtually everything I'd had on my previous hard drive, which sucks. A lot. Still, having somehow managed to salvage the single file containing my Disgrace chapter, I'm really not in especially bad shape.

Here's the weird thing: Apple keeps old, defective hard drives they replace. Sleek, cult-like, the Apple store almost seems like it's attempting to silence its nonconformist hardware. I envision hip, tattooed techies sitting at some sterile stainless steel table in California, staring at my former hard drive, asking it pointed questions:

Apple Techie #1 (hunched over): So, what do you have to say for yourself?

Hard Drive: Sssssssssssss.

Apple Techie #2: (forcefully): He asked you what you have to say for yourself.

Hard Drive: Sssssssssssss.

Apple Techie #2 (to Techie #1): He won't talk.

Apple Techie #1 (brandishing a phillips head screwdriver): Oh, he'll talk.

Hard Drive: Sssssssssssss.

Fade to black. The familiar "bing!" of a Macintosh being turned on.

When I got my computer home, I realized I was treating it in much the same way as one might treat a friend recently returned home from the psychiatric ward of a hospital. That is to say, I treated it quite gingerly, wary of making any sudden movements, fearing that I might somehow jostle the brain right out of order again.

Within a few days, though, I should have all the word processing software installed and should, with a bit of luck, get back to the Disgrace chapter shortly.

For tomorrow: Read.