I am a software engineer. I write programs for computers. My
software code is composed of objects and their specific functions. As a
software engineer, I have unlimited possibilities to justify the
existence of any of these objects, but each of them has been created
for one, and only one, reason. Besides using my imagination, I have to
know multiple computer languages and techniques to let my creativity
reach its ambitious goal and overcome its deep fear of failure.  In my
view, my creation is composed of a set of objects, a set of definitions
and a set of commandments. But for the users of this world, it turns
into a set of tools with a set of choices leading to a set of
consequences.

A software program is like creating a small world, a world with its own particular laws and specific functionalities.

If I forget a thing, anyone using my program, anyone entering this
limited world, has to bear this mistake as its own punishment. In my
design I should think of any possibility. I should imagine the most
unpredictable paths or the most irrational combination of choices.
Sometimes it is hard to understand the logic behind disorder. Sometimes
it means that I have to come up with the complete set of rules that
would satisfy any of my users, no matter who they are. Sometimes it
means that to simplify their lives, I have to enclose this whole
labyrinth with the most difficult obstacles to surpass by any of them.

Still,
if a user succeeds to reach this limit, per consequence, he will feel
misled, even if I send him warnings or to ask his opinion about his
mistakes. Yes. I do care about my users, as long as the validity of
their license has not expired yet and my hidden time-bomb hasn’t
exploded in their face. I do my best to keep my lost user in this
absurd illusion that I would actually concretize his dreams or I would
recognize his fears.   

It is difficult to imagine a small perfect world, and I am sure it is impossible to create an eternal perfect universe.

After all, who is perfect? My software code is never immaculate. Its
flaws confuse my users. Its flaws shatter their belief in who I am. Its
flaws start a kind of suspicion in the justness of my design. They name
it their suffering and failure. I name it my “bug”, almost like a bad
infection. Anyone who is part of this small world feels the agony of my
mistakes.

If my users had chosen to follow only the pre-defined paths I had
imagined in my handy software manual, without going beyond my mindset,
they would have never felt desperate or lost. If they had stopped to
defy my authority without a doubt, they would have achieved their goals
and desires. They would have seen the world as a place without a
burden. So they would have believed that they could find whatever they
seek, if they try. As if everything is possible.

If my imagination was as vast as their choices, I would have never failed.

But they keep asking new questions. They keep challenging my laws. They
keep looking for imperfection. They keep blaming my limits. They push
their own boundaries by going beyond this eternity that I have defined
its borders, only for them.

If they could stop just for a second –all I am asking is just this one
second - then this moment would have become blameless. I keep reminding
them about this particular moment of peace, where my creatures should
let go of their selfish struggles or dreams and evolve into my obedient
spectators. In this one instant of void, they could transpire into
their own abstract existence, almost identical to my absence of
definition, where they remain in total awe by the complexity of my
creation. It is the moment I am awaiting for, this flawless moment of
perfection, -- where none of us actually does exist -- when I will
finally believe in my absolute authority through their giving
stillness.

It is not easy to be a software engineer. I am always amused by the
parallel between my job and my surroundings. In my daily work of
designing new small worlds, using abstractions and concepts, theorems
and mathematical logics, I realize the difficulty of creating order out
of the nonsensical extent of chaos.

But at the end of each day, I just forget about work. I abandon my
creatures where they are stuck, shut down my computer and go for a
lonely walk.