Legend speaks of an ancient, ineffible tribe called The Hui. Tales of their
deeds are only spoken in whispers and shattered through the kaleidescope of a
thousand myths. However, one story that remains in tact is that of The
Whitney and The Incunabulum[0].
Nobody quite knows what The Whitney really is. Some claim it is the Mortal Name
of an immortal wizard, others claim it is the name of a deep Structure within
the Magick of which the Hui are Guardians and Masters. Either way, in much the
same way that the Abrahamic God birthed the cosmos from His essence in the span
of six days, The Hui recount how The Whitney spake The Incunabulum into
creation in the span of a single summer afternoon. Scholars still debate what
this truly means.
However, whether it took uncountable aeons or the blink of an eye, we mortals
are left with this Deep and Beautiful Magick called The Incunabulum. Four suns
have passed as I have dedicated my life and soul to plumbing its depths. Here
is my story:
Snow sputters into sleet as Spring once again battles to dethrone the Long and
Deep Winter. They say that The Incunabulum derives its energy from the Disputes
of the Seasons, so I decided to strike while the iron is hot and release it
from its Ancient Bonds, giving the Standard Incantation of Release:
$ gcc -o ji incunabulum.c
Nay, what angry protective angels spout for their warnings. They do no
appreciate being woken from the Ancient Slumber. I try again, adding a lilt of
the Ancient Tongue:
$ gcc -ansi -o ji incunabulum.c
This seems to slightly appease the angels, but my spells are not enough to
fully allay their disgruntlement. Despite this precipitous start, I decide to
weather the dangers and poke the Summoned Incunabulum:
$ ./ji
It remains ominously silent. Ready, but giving no indication of its intent.
This reminds me of the ancient teacher they call Ed from whom we receive the
koan "?" any time our Magick is Untrue. The fables of Ed guide me as I decide
to speak to the Summoned Incunabulum:
1
Segementation fault
Oh, may the Gods of Mercy see my pure intent, this is the Refutation of
Irrefutability. The Incunabulum is displeased with my Magick. I try again, this
time adding protective wards to my incantation so I may petition the help of
the Lesser Daemons:
$ gcc -ansi -g -o ji incunabulum.c
$ gdb ./ji
(gdb) run
Program received signal SIGSEGV, Segmentation fault.
_int_malloc (av=av@entry=0x7ffff7f999e0 <main_arena>,
bytes=bytes@entry=1024) at malloc.c:3742
3742 malloc.c: そのようなファイルやディレクトリはありません.
The helper daemons gleefully show me the error of my ways, but as Lesser
Daemons they know not the Language of Men:
(gdb) bt
#0 _int_malloc (av=av@entry=0x7ffff7f999e0 <main_arena>,
bytes=bytes@entry=1024) at malloc.c:3742
#1 0x00007ffff7e667e4 in __GI___libc_malloc (bytes=1024) at malloc.c:3058
#2 0x00007ffff7e5098c in __GI__IO_file_doallocate (fp=0x7ffff7f9a500
<_IO_2_1_stdout_>) at filedoalloc.c:101
#3 0x00007ffff7e5f040 in __GI__IO_doallocbuf (fp=fp@entry=0x7ffff7f9a500
<_IO_2_1_stdout_>) at libioP.h:948
#4 0x00007ffff7e5e248 in _IO_new_file_overflow (f=0x7ffff7f9a500
<_IO_2_1_stdout_>, ch=10) at fileops.c:749
#5 0x00007ffff7e54a2e in putchar (c=10) at putchar.c:28
#6 0x000055555555558c in nl () at incunabulum.c:26
#7 0x00005555555555df in pr (w=0x555555559920) at incunabulum.c:27
#8 0x0000555555555869 in main () at incunabulum.c:42
However, I have trained in their tongue and consulting the Incunabulum Scroll,
I see a suspicious Rune:
$ sed -n 8p incunabulum.c
I *ma(n){R(I*)malloc(n*4);}mv(d,s,n)I *d,*s;{DO(n,d[i]=s[i]);}
How silly of me. The Magick of the Ancients is not like the Magick of Men. They
knew how to wield their Power with Wands that were compact and tidy, only half
the size of our Modern Excesses. I know not such Ancient Skills, so I attempt
a hybrid spell of New and Old at my own peril:
$ sed -i 8s/4/8/ incunabulum.c
$ gcc -ansi -o ji incunabulum.c
$ ./ji
1
Segementation fault
Am I meddling in Magick that is best left to enjoy its Rest? Pushing my luck, I
once again enlist the Lesser Daemons and read the Original Runes, searching for
what I have missed. Ah ha!
$ sed -n 37,40p incunabulum.c
noun(c){A z;if(c<'0'||c>'9')R 0;z=ga(0,0,0);*z->p=c-'0';R z;}
verb(c){I i=0;for(;vt[i];)if(vt[i++]==c)R i;R 0;}
I *wd(s)C *s;{I a,n=strlen(s),*e=ma(n+1);C c;
DO(n,e[i]=(a=noun(c=s[i]))?a:(a=verb(c))?a:c);e[n]=0;R e;}
The Whitney wielded Magick with utmost efficiency, not a single wasted rune.
This is a Lore almost completely forgotten. The "noun" rune chooses to not
announce its Return Gift, meaning it holds to the Bare Truth "all is an int".
But now our Long Wands do not match those of the ancients. I once again risk
Heresy and try again:
$ sed -i '37s/^/A /' incunabulum.c
$ gcc -ansi -o ji incunabulum.c
$ ./ji
1
1
Success! An intrepid thought rises in my bosom:
1+1
2
Great Whitney! Praise the Hui! This ancient parchment is alive! Having read the
runes carefully, I know The Incunabulum tolerates only statements of Single
Runes, an demonstration of the austere Beauty in Concision:
10
Segmentation fault
We are punished severely for our heresy: "1" is not of The Monads.
I am both chastened and emboldened by this experience. The Whitney, whatever
its True Form may be, has taught me a Deep Beauty that I both knew but never
discovered.
[0]: https://code.jsoftware.com/wiki/Essays/Incunabulum
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