The sedentary
At the sedentary worker's station, there are two screens with dark backgrounds and many lines of code like the sky. Everything else is under the sky, that is, everything on the desk, like in a card game. Like mountains or groups of hills, the coffee cups, all of them empty, like cattle skeletons in the meadow.
Descending the mountains, there seems to be a stream, which is actually a USB-C cable. In the heart of the valley, the mechanical, wireless, white keyboard. To its right, with the authority that implies, the ergonomic mouse, also white.
The programmer’s hands are typing code to expand the application's functionality. Deer are running after the cursor, jumping over each key, laughing as only a deer knows how to laugh.
The mountaineer with a backpack on his back, the heavier it is, the greater the effort, the greater the reward. There is always a path out there, within reach.
Suddenly the mountaineer trips over a protruding root. A message arrives or someone knocks on the door or something from Amazon is delivered. The point is, the work is interrupted. Concentration is lost. The good song ends.
The noise of the doorbell, shrill and untimely, causes an avalanche of rocks on the eastern side of the mountain. The programmer gets scared and throws the coffee cups onto the keyboard, hitting keys that do not correspond to reality.
The deer are crushed by the rocks, screaming heart-wrenchingly, as only deer know how to scream. And the mountaineer will not be able to sleep peacefully at night because the ghosts of the deer will visit him.
The programmer returns to his swivel chair; the message speaks of a failure in the application deployment. The user cannot perform a task. A tragedy.
Something from Amazon has arrived, covered in a cardboard skin, waiting to be opened.
For the sedentary it works like this.
Sooner or later, the programmer will resolve the bug in the application, they will make another deployment, and everything will work fine.
The programmer will recline in his swivel chair and remain like that for 200 years, looking at the hills made of coffee cups and the deer grazing in the meadow. Until the next bug.