[ WP ] As the sole IT guy who went to hell , you are the one tasked with fixing Satan 's computer .

So, lets get this out of the way. I went to hell because I was a right shit. 
 
 Leveraging the workspaces and email systems of a major company into a series of frauds, blackmails and illegal photoshops to ensure world domination in an industrial field is all good until you look back at what you made people do. 
 
 But I was dead. 
 
 And in hell. 
 
 And I was trapped in a room. A small room. More like a cubicle. Some 8' cube. Beige. There was no door, no knowledge of existence outside of this cube of space. Was I even dead? I must be. 
 
 It was n't an empty room. It was a full room. I was in the room, and there was a desk in the room. Upon the desk sat a nicotine yellow series of plastic mouldings. A keyboard. Mechanical like the 90's, but some of the switches had been replaced and so the sounds it made while typing were irregular. It was sticky, the thin film of grease and ash from a million over-smoked cigarettes in every crevice. When I used it, it would turn my fingertips yellow within the first few minutes. 
 
 Is a minute even a concept in an eternity? 
 
 A mouse. Claw, palm or arch, there was no easy way to hold it. Yellowed, trackball, and like everything, gritty and sticky. Serial mouse that was often confused by the main computer for something else. 
 
 An all in one CRT monitor / computer. Dead pixels that changed every time I looked away from the screen. The vsync was off, and the picture slowly rotated down the screen and back to the top. The fans made legitimate coughing noises trying to cool the overworked processor. 
 
 So what? I did n't have to use it. I had just been tasked with fixing it. 
 
 I had looked at it, then prodded it a bit, and given up in disgust. 
 
 Hot needles were stuck into every inch of me, even the internal ones. I could not rest, think, or succumb to the pain. My only thought was surrendering to the task. 
 
 I picked my weak form off the floor and slumped into the computer chair. It was n't set right, and lacked the levers to do so. I booted the computer. There was one user. 
 Ţ̸̶̸̲͎͖̙͇͙̺̜͙͈̰̞̯̯̹̜͖̬̻͐̓̊̉͊͛ͫͤ̃ͥͨ̒̓ͦ̈́͆ͬ͝ḩ̷̟̱̜͕̦̞̫͉̤̠͖̹͔̱̫͇̤́ͬ͊̉ͬ̋̓ͥͬ͛̎̿ͨ̂ͨͩͧ͢e͇̘̮͚̘̰̙̙͍̪̘͎̤̯͎̜͎̹ͤ̔̄͗ͦ̽̐̃̏ͫ̚͠L̴̶̷̛̈́ͧ̒̆̎̓ͩ͂̚͏͓͚̩̝͍̠̩̩̹͖͚ͅǫ̶̸̛̼̙̝̭̭̞͈͎̪̻͈̦̫̩̟̹͓͙̞͐̽̇ͧ͌͊ͤͪ͢r̷̞̦̰̼̣͎̣͎͌͛ͬ̓ͨ̊͌͆ͩ̄ͧͩ̊̆ͨ̈̚ḏ̴̜̰͙̪͈̟͚̞͉̜͌̽͒̉ͣ̉ͭ͌̔ͪ̓̿̒͜͝͞ͅͅO̷̢͇̙̳̱̗͖̰͎̖̖͖̟ͮ̿̈́̑̃͟͝f̷̢̗͔̺͔̝̲̮͓̥̮̪͍͉̹͎̩̱̪̘ͩ̔̐̊̾̇ͫ̔̌̌̋͜͡͠F̵͍͖͈͉͕͍̜͕̣̖̻̼̣̼̰ͧ͆̿͛͂̇̓̉̆ͥ͟͟͢͡l̨͔̲̦͉̪͕̤͎͕͙̭̍ͤ̄̓͂̓͌ͬ̏ͣ̆̒̍̌̏̀i̶̡̯̹̱͙̣͍͎̰̫͈͎̭͓͓̪̞͉̫̍ͧ̾́̈́͂͐̓̍e̷̢̡̤̗̞̜͎͍͔͙̣̼͂ͧͧ̅͐̊̈́͋̓̃͊ͫ̀̋́s̢̬̫͕̙͖̠̞͈̘͕͕͙̭̃ͪͣͥͭ͆̊̃̋̓ͫ̇ͨ͛͜͡ͅ Well. That was obvious. The computer was slow. Painfully slow. I grew a beard before it reached the desktop. Looking away rendered my body to liquid fats in a hot soup, a pain you will never know the ken of. 
 
 The screen started, slowly due to the weak, overloaded and unresponsive processor. Popup. Ad. Virus. Malware. Infections and malicious tasks. I could n't kill them. I could n't stop them. They were everywhere. The desktop had the entire filesystem on it. system32 was on there. The entire thing chugged and groaned. My beard had reached the floor. 
 
 I clicked on'internet.exe'. It turned the computer off. Crashed. Power out. 
 
 A second lifetime later, having decided to make a tally by scratching into the desk with my teeth, I was at the same place. I opened'computer', and within a second, everything was gone. 
 
 I persisted. 
 
 Time passed. 
 
 There was no desk. The computer was supported on a congealed and festering mix of skin cells and beard hairs. My tallies had worn the desk to a splinter. I was making progress of a sort. I had crushed the ads, the spyware, updated software and cleaned up the filesystem. 
 
 Maybe I was mad by now. I hoped I was insane. Rationality was too much. 
 
 The last few issues were known. Intimate, like a perverted but addictive lover. I looked into the desk for the final thing I would need. A backup OS copy. I pulled it out. The disk was scratched, as if someone had attacked it with a chisel. 
 
 I did n't even register the setback. I was immune, dulled, beyond sense and saving. I was accepting. 
 
 The room peeled away from me, my ancient and corpse-like form restored to the strength and glory of youth. I remembered my unknown span in the small cube and the torments and trials, but I was behind that. I was free. 
 
 For an instant. 
 
 And there I was, back in the room, as if I had done none of my work, my labours. The desk was there. The computer as slow and infested as ever. A change had occurred. There was a wall calendar. It had clicked over. A voice sounded though my teeth and with a sight like the smell of oil. I craved this contact. A sentient sound, a message! 
 
 The text to speech crawled out of the speaker like an unnameable horror. `` Loop execution complete. Checking condition. Condition 
 
 while ( 1 ) { 
 
 `` 
 
 I broke a little inside, remembering the task, then the singular joyous moment that existed only to contrast to the hell I was in.
