This is a continuation of A Cadence Carol . Be sure to read the previous installments! Stave I: Moore’s Ghost , Part I and Part II Stave II: The First of the Three Spirits , Part I and Part II Stave III: The Second of the Three Spirits , Part I and Part II * * * * * * * The Phantom slowly, gravely, silently approached. When it came near him, Ben Easer bent down upon his knee; for in the very air through which this Spirit moved it seemed to scatter gloom and mystery. It was shrouded in a deep black hoodie, which concealed its head, its face, its form, and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched hand. But for this, it would have been difficult to detach its figure from the night and separate it from the darkness by which it was surrounded. “I am in the presence of the Ghost of EDA Tools Yet To Come?” said Ben. The Spirit gave no answer but pointed onward with its hand. “You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not happened but will happen in the time before us,” Ben pursued. “Is that so, Spirit?” The upper portion of the hoodie was contracted for an instant in its folds as if the Spirit had inclined its head. That was the only answer he received. Although well used to ghostly company by this time, Ben feared the silent shape so much that his legs trembled beneath him, and he found that he could hardly stand when he prepared to follow it. “Ghost of the Future!” he exclaimed, “I fear you more than any Spectre I have seen. But as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with an innovative heart. Lead on!” The ghost turned from Ben, the shadows long and deep about him. “Wait, do I hold onto your robe or what?” The Phantom looked back at Ben, and he imagined that he saw the ghostly eyes roll. Without moving, Ben found himself borne upon the shadow of the Spirit, with no regard for physics or biology. The downtown of Mountain View seemed to spring up about them and they were outside of a popular Mexican restaurant. They stopped beside one little knot of businessmen. Observing that the hand was pointed at them, Ben advanced to listen. “No,” said a great fat man with a monstrous chin, “I don’t know much about it either way. I only know they shut down.” “When did it happen?” inquired another. “Yesterday, I believe.” “Why, what was the matter with them?” asked a third, taking out his mobile phone. “I thought it would never fold.” “God knows,” said the first, glancing at his watch. “What has been done with the assets?” asked a red-faced man with an obvious cold, pulling out a tissue and honking like a turkey. “I haven’t heard,” said the man with the large chin, now also looking at his phone. “Whatever is normally done, I suppose. I might swing by and see if I can pick up some office chairs for cheap.” The assembled company laughed, because they knew that no one ever actually does that, and merely talks about intending to. They all eventually strolled away and mixed with other groups. Ben knew these men, and he looked to the Spirit for an explanation. The Phantom glided on into a street, pulling Ben with him. Its finger pointed to a few more chatting. Ben listened again, thinking that the explanation might lie here. He knew these people, too. They were employees of the “frightful five” in Silicon Valley. “Well!” said one. “Old Scratch has finally been beaten down at last!” “So they say,” said another. “I had never even heard of it until it was gone,” said the third. “No big surprise, huh, then?” They shrugged and the rest pulled out their mobile devices. The first sniffed. “Unseasonably warm this time of year, isn’t it?” “Global warming. I hear there are fires again down south.” “Bummer. Well, I gotta motor. Electric motor, what do you think of that?” “Ciao, then. See you on FaceTube.” “LinkedBook, you mean?” “I’ll PlexYou you.” Not another word. That was their meeting, their conversation, and their parting. Ben was at first inclined to be surprised that the Spirit should attach importance to conversations apparently so trivial; but feeling assured that they must have some hidden purpose, he set himself to consider what it was likely to be. They could scarcely be supposed to have any bearing on the death of Moore’s Law, for that was Past, and this Ghost’s province was the Future. Nor could he think of anyone immediately connected with himself, to whom he could apply them. He looked about in that very place for his own image; but another person sat at his accustomed table in the corner, and though the clock pointed to his usual time of day for being there, he didn’t see himself among the multitudes that poured in through the revolving door. It gave him little surprise, however; for he had been revolving in his mind a change of life, and thought and hoped he saw his new-born resolutions carried out. ...to be continued... —Meera![]()
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