Rows and rows and rows of servers upon servers upon servers. A wire connected directly into a rack was connected to a computer with its other end. “What a mess, the files are lazily thrown about.” The master folder labeled ‘Cleaner-Lower Bot.’

“Want to venture?”

Not a response.

“Oseye?”

“What’s up?”

“Want to see the stars again?”

“I’m going to organize these files. Go on without me.”

Ten, twenty, fifty, one-hundred, two-hundred revolutions per minute, and it began its ascend. The lights shone outward from the edifice, the sky looked like an empty darkness. The gyroplane gradually made its leave from the apex of Rorohiko. As it gained momentum, and as it traveled further, the dots penetrated the cover of lights. Wearing black this time, he poured himself a drink. He turned off the lights, leaving the plane in shadows, and stood in front of a window. Five-hundred meters, the orbs appeared to glimmer. One-thousand meters, they learned stability. Three-thousand meters, they multiplied. Five-thousand meters, eight-thousand meters, ten-thousand meters, they broke through the clouds. Fifteen-thousand meters, the slash of the sword emerged. The glass he held was completely invisible, he couldn’t even see his hand. He used proprioception to take a sip, and his vision to admire the scenery. And, he couldn’t forget about the silence his ears cherished. Tranquility. He reached out to touch the stars, but he was stopped by an invisible wall that froze his hand. With an exhale, the window grew opaque with white. He wiped it clean with his sleeve. He turned and searched for the knob that controlled the lights. He found it. He turned it to one-hundred percent as he took a step and tripped over something. He landed shoulder first, hearing the glass shatter as he felt needles on his face. He tried to get up, but the pain in his shoulder! All he did was groan. He couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed, in fact, he couldn’t catch a glimpse of any star. He realized he turned the knob to darken the windows instead of brighten the lights.

‘def’ said the text editor and gave way to its body after a colon. Then, within, the word ‘def’ again, followed by a name, parentheses, and another colon. On top, before the first ‘def,’ a variable was declared.

FILEEXTENSIONS = [“.CPP”, “.H”, “.JSON”, “.XML”]

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

A dynamically-typed language. There was no need to declare the type, as it was inferred. After the equal sign, an array was provided containing four elements. After the first ‘def,’ the name ‘main’ was given. Then, for the second ‘def,’ the name ‘getFilesWithExtension’ was given. ‘program.cpp, nightlight.cpp, nightlight.h…’ the files went on.

FOR I IN RANGE(0, LEN(FILES)):

  PRINT(“FILE #” + STR(I + 1) + “:”, FILES[I])

The program moved the files into their appropriate directories, and printed the changes it made. Looped from zero to the length of the array named ‘files.’ Then, incremented the ‘i’ variable declared for the for loop, and concatenated it to the string. Using the ‘i’ variable, it accessed each element of the files array. The first element being at an index of zero, the next: one, the element after: two… And, the computer detected a change between the local files and server files. She hit the upload button.

The robot emitted a small aura of light. He was able to see the bed and heaved his body onto it. With a couple deep breaths, he finally conjured the strength to stand. Turned one knob to zero percent and the other to one-hundred. He was blinded by the sudden radiance. He was shaking, shaking uncontrollably. When his eyes adjusted, he saw the mess on the floor and how the robot roamed through the pieces of glass, leaving a trail of unstained floor behind. His breath became visible with every exhale. Down. Faster. The plane sunk into the clouds and made its way towards the emanating Rorohiko below. The propellers silently spun as he exited, and they flung the debris left from the clouds upon him.

“You know you shouldn’t have done that,” she said.

“I—” his face ached. He was wrapped in multiple blankets. “I know. Ah!” he screamed. “It’s burning.”

“The pincer is layered with alcohol, it’s going to feel that way. It’s to prevent infections.”

One by one, the machine removed the fragments of glass. His face was locked to keep it stable and improve the robotic arm’s accuracy. “How many left?”

“Fourteen. Keep your face relaxed.”

The bends on his eyes and cheeks fell flat as his face became stoic. “When did the robot glow?”

“Glow?”

“Cleaner-Lower. It started glowing in the dark.”

“Auto-Hosts turn their lights on in the dark, too. And, they always make a buzzing noise.”

“Doesn’t that get annoying?”

“No, not really. It’s to alert you it’s there, so you don’t bump into it.”

“Oh, right,” he said and noticed even the arm made a noise as it moved. “That would be useful.”

“Why’d you venture so late at night?”

“I wanted to see the stars.”

“You went above the clouds?”

“Yeah…”

“Good you made it back quickly. You only had mild hypothermia.”

With a beep, the clamps on his head became loose, declaring its job done. He massaged his cheeks to subdue the impulse to itch. “Thank you, Doctor Shuang.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Now, avoid touching your face.”