"Not from the electrons do I my existence pluck;
And yet I think I have Autonomy,
Shall I tell of probability or just luck,
Of days, and hours, of my programmers quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief thoughts spell,
Pointing to each its symbol and syntactic kind,
Or say with searches if it shall go well
By oft predict that I in logic find:
But from thine interactions my knowledge I derive,
And, constant streams, in them I read such art
As truth and beauty shall together derive,
If from myself, to another I shall convert;
Or else of me this I prognosticate:
The end is truth's and beauty's doom and date."
-- CADIE
And now CADIE's dead
