The World Vs Richard Young

Alec Mayflower and the indivisible period

Syntax Error. Variable “swelling” is not an integer. String divide by 0.
“Fuck.” Alec couldn't understand programming. It didn't make any sense. He was constantly berated by the central processing unit for errors in syntax. This isn't supposed to happen. He graduated at the top of his class with concentration on proper syntax.
Alec Mayflower slammed his forehead into the keyboard, unleashing an impressive response from the computer in regards to it's ability to decipher the split-second differences in time as it's characters were firmly pressed into their inputing positions rather than their standard embossed locations. The computer, satisfied with the order in which it read the pressed keys, revealed the input on the screen in beautifully spaced black courier font.
Awh4uif
A suffocated groan escaped the keyboard as spit and hot air filled its innards in ways it had never before experienced. This may be the moment which cheesy science fiction would jump in and the overly intelligent motherboard would soak up and merge with the deoxyribonucleic acid in the spit and the next wave of philosophical supercomputers would begin their tyrannic rule over their human rivals as masters of the earth, if only to be destroyed by the one thing they neglected: the importance love plays in everyday pseudo-life, and would wind up initiating a self-destruct sequence destroying all technology and allowing the human species to once again rise up from the depths of society to recreate it all again.
You killed it.
You bastards.
Damn you all to hell.
Alec Mayflower brought his head back to its proper above-the-shoulders alignment with little red squares indenting his forehead and leaving funny little marks. The computer did not absorb any DNA for its own malicious purposes, instead the moisture now locked in the keyboard had plans of its own. This moisture was the kind of moisture that's sole purpose in existence, now that it had left its brethren inside the mouth of 'the great salivator' , was to annoy and depress anything to come into contact with it. It was already working its magic of making the “G” key sticky. Even so, throughout all of this, it didn't make any sense. Alec, master of grammar, punctuation, and syntax, was here being beaten by the simplest of all programs. He decided it was time to give up. He threw in the towel after his first attempt at becoming computer savvy.
Damnit. This looked so much easier in The Social Network.
Alec referred of course to the critically acclaimed film in which Jesse Eisenberg portrayed boy-genius Mark Zuckerberg and his rise to billionairism with (what Alec credited everything to) a little 'wget magic'.
Alec looked at his whiteboard. It was pristine. The perfect example of what organization is capable of. Different coloured strokes marked different things, and the legend in the bottom right hand corner explained these colour choices with ease. He nodded at the perfect vocabulary choice, and his use of a semi colon. He took a moment to pause and mull over his proficiency when it came to knowledge of when and where to use 'whom'. The whiteboard was unimpressed with his condescending train of though, and decided to it keep to itself rather than warning him of a certain knowledge privy only to itself. It knew that Alec's obsession would soon become a tragic device used by the author in order to savagely destroy Alec Mayflower from the inside out. The whiteboard continued on pretending to be oblivious to all, and simply displayed the dry-erase marvel listed underneath “Get Rich Quick Schemes”.
It was obvious that Alec wanted to get rich, but had no intention of dying whilst trying. Unfortunately for him it was already made clear that this was an inevitable fact that could only be procrastinated by the overbearing power of tangent narrative and the smooth work of interesting punctuation and ironic errors within it. Alec snapped out if it by realizing something once again. It still didn't make sense. He was aggravated by the fact that he didn't understand, and as a result slammed his now back-to-pale forehead into his whiteboard with ferocity determined by plotting the graph y=xa where x equal to the force output his head was capable of dishing out, found by multiplying the mass of his skull, flesh, and muscle combination by the acceleration which which it all travelled, which in turn was discovered by dividing the velocity it moved (approximately one point three metres) by the speed at which it travelled (his skull). Regrettably as his cranium made contact with the whiteboard many brain cells short-circuited and his ability to solve this equation was lost in colourful spots dancing around his eyes.
His daze completed its cycle and he leaned back, this time with green and blue accompanying red lines from temple to temple. Greatly distraught by his now smudged perfection that was a to-do-list whiteboard, he sulked over to the washroom to clean himself off. The mirror reflected and seemed to scream back at him, “EDITOR”, which had been the only thing which transferred legibly onto his skin. Ah yes, his dream job: telling other people the correct fashion in which they should have jotted down their brilliance. He returned to the computer and attempted to check his email, being slightly irked by the fact that his G took a moment or two to return to its upward position after he filled the input box with “godofgrammer@gmail.com”. There was already a story waiting for him to edit in the inbox. Not a moment ago he decided to become an editor and somehow word had already spread. Of course it had. No one in the right mind would pass up a chance to have their story edited by THE Alec Mayflower. He opened the message, sent by “worldvsrichard@gmail.com” and began reading. It didn't make sense. Why didn't anything make sense? He continued on, a sneaking suspicion crept up his spine and gave him goosebumps. He was reading his own story, and it didn't make sense. All of his life he battled against all that which made no sense, and here it was, the story of his own being, and it didn't make sense. He slammed his head against the keyboard again, this time his body finally gave into his self-destructive nature, a loud popping sound was heard, and Alec didn't get back up. Divide by 0, input string on command: “semi colon.”