Michael Warren Lucas - Savaged by Systemd: an Erotic Unix Encounter

I make it a point to thank all of my early readers .

In this case, theyve all made it overwhelmingly clear that the best way I can thank them is to never mention their names again .

So: you know who you are. Thank you .

I d stayed after work Friday to finish cleaning up the awful mess that was the computer room. How could a staff of twenty create so much crap? It didnt matter how much I ranted and raved at the boss. Every time someone had dead equipment or something that they thought they might need next year or just a really solid cardboard Amazon Prime box, they dumped it in the computer room .

Late Friday night, and Im in the computer room .

Yes, Im the most stereotypical forty-something computer nerd youll ever meet. I have the shaggy unkempt hair, the flabby muscles, and the decrepit wardrobe to prove it .

But still, the computer room was my space. I took deep pride in how well everything ran, and wanted to keep the meatspace as tidy as I kept the operating system installs. When people dumped their busted trash here, it pissed me off. Maybe I should go into the sales staffs cubicle farm and dump something I didnt want to look at any more. Like my social calendar .

No, that would make me even more pathetic .

Im an old-school sysadmin. I carefully selected our Linux distribution based on its adherence to proper Unix standards. None of that newfangled crap, like KDE or systemd. No, our servers ran a fvwm desktop or, better still, plain text mode .

Every time an intern ran bawling, I smiled .

Sweat had soaked through my jeans and last months LinuxFest T-shirt, drawing months of dust down to my skin, but the computer room was finally excavated down to four racks of pristine, lovingly maintained Linux servers. Id even moved the accountants lonely Windows desktop-turned-server to a safe space under the console table, where it wouldnt keep insistently reminding me that it existed. Id swept the floor down to the dull white tile and dusted spider webs from the ceiling corners. The clean, sharp smells of electricity and cleaning spray filled my nose .

Even my small mountain of cola cans had gone to the recycle bin .

Id earned a pizza .

Right thens when someone knocked once on the back door .

I tugged my reflashed, bare-bones Android phone off my belt and checked the time. Eight forty-three PM ?

Another single knock .

Id spent much longer cleaning than Id meant to .

And whoever was standing out in the alley and rapping on the shipping door had no right to expect an answer .

Two knocks this time, one right on the heels of the other .

Besides, the company kept me in the back room for a reason, a whole bunch of reasons. With my sweat gluing the machine rooms dust into my clothes I looked terrible and probably smelled worse. I desperately needed a shower and that pepperoni-and-pineapple pie .

Tonight, Id probably sin with extra cheese .

Three rapid-fire knocks .

Someone needed to give up and go home. Like I was going to .

I had the whole weekend free, and Id really been looking forward to refactoring my EIDE SAS driver. And Id triggered that weird serial port bug with my terminal server. Yes, the server mainboards all have remote KVM, but Java applets have no soul. Whoever was at the door could wait for Monday. I stretched my legs and shuffled to the other door, flicking off the light .

The machine room reverted to its true, pristine nature: ordered rows of blue lights on server faceplates. Banks of green and yellow LEDs flickered as frames ricocheted around the Ethernet switches. The air handlers hummed in darkness .

I paused to massage my aching lower back and savor my ephemeral success. By the time I came in Monday morning, someone would have dumped a dead coffee maker or half a printer back here. Because, you know, it might be fixable, or maybe the company could use the parts .

But at this precise moment, my domain was perfect .

I took a deep breath and reached to close the door behind me .

Five knocks: rap-rap-rap-rap- rap .

A flash of curiosity froze my hand .

No, I was being extra nerdy again. Theres no way this was

rap-rap-rap-rap-rap-rap-rap- rap .

Eight knocks .

My mouth went dry .

Coincidence. It had to be. Whoever was lurking in the alley was getting more and more frustrated, and just pounding more with each attempt. Maybe theyd seen me hauling boxes of crap to the Dumpster, and knew damn well I was back here. Theres no way theyll knock thirteen

I couldnt help counting the hurricane flurry of raps .

Thirteen .

The stranger at the back door was knocking in the Fibonacci sequence .

I took a deep breath. My heart had started to slow after all my labor, but suddenly my pulse ratcheted up a notch. My breath quickened, and this weird tension rippled up the back of my neck .

Whoever was at the back door wasnt knocking for the company .

They were knocking for me .

I made myself swallowhow can you need to swallow when your mouth is as dry as a venture capitalists soul ?

The rapping had stopped. It was as if whoever was out there knew that I knew, and was leaving the choice up to me .

I could walk away now. Let the decadent showerhead in my bathroom pound some of the ache out of my shoulders .

But then Id never know .

Before I could think, I trudged across the server room, thumbed the lock, and swung the heavy metal door open to expose the dark alley .

A shadowed figure leaned in, gently seized my cheeks in two tender hands, and kissed me .

Not a quick buss, either. This wasnt a peck on the cheek from my weird aunt. Smooth lips pressed insistently against mine, almost hard enough to hurt. Id been kissed before, but not with such total lack of restraint. The stranger wanted to kiss me. They had absolutely nothing in their mind but melding their lips with mine .

Im not used to being kissed. Forget being kissed likelike that .

In the greatest state of shock of my life, I stood paralyzed while those warm hands burned against my cheeks. A stray fingertip caressed the ridge of my ear, sparking its own blaze. But mostly I felt those incredible lips crawling like slow lightning over my mouth. My face softened instantly. It couldnt have lasted more than a second or two before my instincts cut in .

I jumped back .

Yeah, my instincts are terrible when it comes to sex. I know that, okay? Sheesh .

But still: what the hell ?

Shadows cast by distant server LEDs shifted in the darkened doorway. My eyes couldnt make any sense of the stranger. My chest hurt, and not just from my jackrabbit heart thumping against the inside of my ribs .

Breathing. I needed to breathe .

This wasnt right. Nobody hunted down slobby sysadmins. Well, okay, Mom always threatened to get me a wardrobe upgrade, but never a kiss, not the kind of kiss that made that part of me seethe .

Maybe my instincts had been right to push me back .

But the memory of that kiss burned on my lips. Even letting my memory flash to the way my mouth had melted against the stranger caused a weak moan to involuntarily ease out of me .