Remembrance for Codington
I marched past the broken-down memory fences into Codington, white-knuckle clutching my .vimrc caliber sawed-off. It was a ghost town — not another developer within picoseconds.
"Can't get distracted," I mumbled into the abyss, "Sweep the perimeter, get a feel for what we're dealing with."
All it took was a few femtos of strafing — what had happened in Codington hit you in the face like a bag of bricks. All you could see was mutables and const_casts strewn around among the faux-silver bullet casings and streaks of blood that trail indescernably into the distance.
The plague had descended upon Codington as it had so many cities before. I spat in disdain and snarled.