Someone left me a message about Microserfs and I thought it was pretty amusing, and I realized that I don't remember much about the book, so I went looking for the excerpt from Wired years ago (was I the only one that thought it was a real story?) Low and behold, it's online! Very cool...

More details about our group house - Our House of Wayward Mobility.

Because the house receives almost no sun, moss and algae tend to colonize what surfaces they can. There is a cherry tree crippled by a fungus. The rear veranda, built of untreated 2-x-4s, has quietly rotted away, and the sliding door in the kitchen has been braced shut with a hockey stick to prevent the unwary from straying into the suburban abyss.

The driveway contains six cars: Todd's cherry red Supra (his life, what little there is of it), my pumpkin Hornet, and four personality-free gray Microsoftmobiles - a Lexus, an Acura Legend, and two Tauri (nerd plural for Taurus). I bet if Bill drove a Shriner's go-cart to work, everybody else would, too.

Inside, each of us has a bedroom. Because of the MacDonald's-like turnover in the house, the public rooms - the living room, kitchen, dining room, and basement - are bleak, to say the least. The dormlike atmosphere precludes heavy-duty interior design ideas. In the living room are two velveteen sofas that were too big and too ugly for some long-gone tenants to take with them.

I'll have to go get that book today, it's time for a re-read.


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