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Mines of Moore-ia

January 17th at 3:33 p.m. will live in infamy to all students of Missouri Western. Griffons were unable to log into GoldLink. I too, was a bit irked that I couldn’t look up a condensed schedule of my classes. Then the thought came to my mind, “how much am I paying to go here and we can’t even keep GoldLink working?” Once I traveled to the lands of Agenstein and adventured with the Web Wizard, Nesslage the Copper, I began to change my tune.

Nesslage the Copper and his band of IT hobbits ventured far across Middle Campus, all to return the Network Services to Mount Download. Our band could’ve taken the hard-drive up the mountain, but didn’t want to byte off more than we could chew. This perilous journey brought the Fellowship to the Mines of Moore-ia, which had long been left derelict by the Internet trolls that once inhabited those sacred halls. An unspeakable evil pervaded those depths, perpetuated by irony and self-deprecating humor.

Deep in the ancient halls of Karnad Dual, we awoke a demon of shadow and dial-up. Nesslage the Copper drew Gigahertz, his blade forged of fiber and dank-ass code, and led us deeper into the cavernous space.

“What is this new technology?” I asked in a hushed tone.

“The Baud-rate, a demon of the ancient web,” he replied dramatically, “it is more than any of us can process.”

Nesslage’s LED staff lit our way as we crossed Amdahl’s bridge, the narrowest in the entire mine. The Baud-rate stomped its hooves behind us, drawing its whip of inefficient code. Nesslage the Copper stopped on Amdahl’s bridge to confront the beast, dial-up tones sounded from its gaping maw.

As the Baud-rate swung his horrific whip, Nesslage cried, “You shall not boot!” and slammed his LED staff into the bridge. “I am servant of the structured query language, wielder of the algorithms of Nagle. You shall not boot! The dark web will not avail you, flame of URL. YOU SHALL NOT BOOT!”

Nesslage’s last ping of the staff shattering it into red, green, and blue light without any sense of cohesion. Amdahl’s bridge broke at the Baud-rate’s feet, the obsolete monster descended into darkness. The inefficient whip sprang out of the swallowing darkness to curl around Nesslage the Copper’s knees.

Nesslage clung onto Amdahl’s crumbling bridge, “Turn it off and back on again, you fools!” He sunk into the fragmented darkness, not to be seen again until the next part of our journey.

“Nesslage, yes, that is what they used to call me, Nesslage the Copper,” he said in the HTML forest. “That was my name; I am Nesslage the Fiber.”

Three hours later GoldLink had been returned to its original state, the only real damage was that one of the IT hobbits had lost a finger. Nesslage the Fiber took that IT hobbit and another really old IT hobbit, boarded a ship, and sailed away to fix another network.

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