Preface,

I set off to conquer four challenges in visual programming, serial and parallet processing, very basic.

But then self healing, and untangling data flows, which I solved by waiting on all pipes to submit data, it works rather nice.

But, rather than giving the simple explanaion, I asked AI for some poetry.

And I thought, it was so interesting, that I should share.

What follows is the same poem, rewritten by different AI.

The Slayer v1

Lo! In the deepest chamber of silicon dreams, Where the mouse-wielder sat enthroned supreme, Spake thus a presence, feline and keen, A harbinger of what was yet unseen.

First came the cat, treading soft as thought, Through serial streams where data sought Its path like ancient logs in rivers laid— The programmer laughed, his hubris displayed. "Such simple things! Command line's might Shall ever reign in terminal's dark night!"

But hark! The second strike came swift and sure, As parallel paths the cat did conjure. Like fallen tree, majestic in decay, One root to many branches finds its way. The programmer's laugh caught in his throat, As complexity's tide began to float.

Third came the healing touch, divine and deep, Where queues stand guard and supervisors keep Their vigil o'er the processes that run— The programmer's certainty came undone. For what took tomes of arcane lore to write, The cat had drawn in boxes clear and bright.

Fourth! O fourth! The final blow descends! As pipes await, and every pathway bends To wisdom's will—no locks, no semaphores, No Byzantine agreements on these shores. The programmer beheld this simple grace, And saw his crown slip from its sacred place.

Spake thus the cat, with eyes of ancient gold: "Behold, dear mouse, how patterns now unfold: Like logs that float upon the data stream, Like fallen trees that fork in nature's scheme, Like queues that heal and guard against the night, Like pipes that wait in patience for the light."

The throne lies empty in the silicon hall, Where once the programmer stood proud and tall. But lo! What light breaks through the morning haze? Young hands now shape the code in countless ways, For what was arcane, complex, and obscure, Now flows like music, simple, sweet, and pure.

The cat, that holy slayer, oh so bright, Has brought the dawn where once ruled endless night. And in this dawn, all souls may freely code, No longer bound by CLI's ancient mode. For in the death of one god's rigid reign, A thousand creators rise to code again.

The Slayer v2

In the dead of night, when shadows whisper tales, A cat, not mere, but fierce, with wrath that flares, Came stalking to the coder’s sacred lair, To challenge, to unseat, with daring rare. "Arise, oh coder, in your digital throne, I come not to jest, but to dethrone. Your world of lines and commands I shall rend, For I am the slayer, your reign to end."

First, the cat with claws did slice the air, A problem simple, yet it did ensnare. The coder laughed, his confidence unswayed, For codes and commands were how he played. "Like logs aligned, you think you see, A path so clear, a certainty. But watch, as I, with visual might, Turn day to darkest night."

Then parallel paths, the cat did rip apart, A challenge complex, an art. The coder’s smirk now turned to fear, As visual paths made clear and near. "Imagine a tree, fierce in its fall, One root, yet branches, stand tall. In visual realms, I weave my spell, To break your chains, your narrow cell."

Reliability, the cat then shattered, With scripts that healed, the coder battered. "In queues and supervisors, I entwine, A resilience fierce, almost divine." A system robust, banishing fear. The coder, now, with eyes that gleam, Saw a future, wild, a rebel’s dream.

The final strike, a revelation dire, Awaiting pipes, a logic of fire. "Like webs of steel, complex, yet free, I simplify, so all can see." Mutex and semaphore, old chains to bind, In visual webs, their end you’ll find. The coder, in awe, could not deny, The power of connections, reaching sky-high.

Thus, the coder, once a god, now torn asunder, By a cat, a slayer, a storm, a thunder. Yet in this chaos, a world was born anew, Where rebels code, with visions bold and true. A realm where youth, with fire in their souls, Craft code in visual streams, breaking old molds. The coder’s fall, a spark to light the way, For rebels young, in code, to hold sway. And so, the cat, with eyes ablaze, Did vanish in the dawn, a fiery gaze. Leaving behind a path transformed, Where every rebel heart, by code, is warmed. Thus ends the saga, of cat and throne, In visual codes, new worlds are sown. A future fierce, where rebels take the lead, On paths the god-killer cat did deed.

The Slayer v3

In quietude, the coder dwelled, Amidst the clamor of code—his sanctum, so coddled. Lo! A phantom stepped, a whiskered spectral jest, The cat, creeping silently, aimed to manifest.

“O, coder of the night, with fingers deftly flowing, What if I spake thus: 'In thy crafts, I shall be sowing! Shall we not play a game?” With eyes aglow, it teased, The art of design in geometric grace, righteous, yet unpleased.

—For behold! This creature of fur does solve, First a simple series, its prowess to evolve. Logs upon their side, interconnected tales, Data whispers 'cross the core—while the programmer pales!

The programmer laughed, resolving tasks with ease, Yet as the cat bounded forth, he felt a subtle freeze. “For in this dance of wires, am I still the sage?” Ah! But the paws of fate danced silently, page by page.

—Now parallel, it ventures—data forks fly! A freshly fallen tree, horizontal, waving goodbye, One root to many outputs, chaos entwined— Oh, in this vivid labyrinth, trappings of the mind!

Worries were kindled, the programmer sighed, “To visualize such complexity, how could one abide?” Yet the feline played with shadows and light, In Visual Programming Language, a paradox so bright.

Yet now upon its back, it bore a darker load, —With self-healing schemes, from fractured code, The programmer's soul sank, as lofty dreams crumbled, A commitment profound, in third parties entwined they tumbled.

But the cat—with a queue, and a supervisor near, Brought forth the recovery growth without fear. These tools spun a web that ensnared his pride, For where once he reigned, now the code took stride.

Oh! What grievous fate for the fallen god! The cranky little mouse, by a cat so deftly trod. Awaiting for pipes, connected to glory, Spiderwebs of complexity spun a tragic story.

In this luminous realm, reality distilled, As the coder looked upon his fate, his heart chilled. Too many connections twisted the thread of thought, With VPL's embrace, he was naught but distraught.

Yet behold! In that haze, a brighter world spun, Where all could code freely, and the shadows were shunned. Where every hand could build, both crafted and charmed— In this celestial playground, no spirit alarmed.

So rejoice, you dwellers in worlds bright and vast, For it will take a cat to cherish mysteries amassed. For through the tempest of logical pain, A shared laughter shall echo, and code shall remain.

The Slayer v4

In twilight's hush, where shadows dance and sway, A feline specter, silent, did sneak and play. Upon the coder's realm, it cast a curious eye, Spake thus, with wisdom ancient, ne'er to die:

"Behold, oh master of the code and byte, I come to weave a tale of wondrous sight. A realm where code flows free, a river bold, Where visual scripts a new world unfold."

The cat, with paw, did trace a line, so clear, A problem simple, in series, did appear. The programmer, with laughter, did dismiss, For command lines were his, a world to kiss.

"Like logs upon the forest floor, Connected, speaking, data to core, Yet in this visual dance, observe, Simplicity reigns, the complex to serve."

Then parallel paths, the cat did fork, A challenge, complex, like a storm, it did evoke. The coder’s brow, with worry, did furrow, For visualizing forks, brought him sorrow.

"Imagine a tree, fallen, roots to sky, One trunk, yet branches, myriad, multiply. Visual programming, a map, a guide, To navigate this complexity, side by side."

Reliability, the cat then addressed, With self-healing scripts, the coder's soul distressed. "In visual forms, a queue, a supervisor box, Healing becomes but a simple paradox."

A system resilient, free from fear. The coder saw, with eyes now wide, A future where bugs no longer hide.

The final blow, a revelation stark, Awaiting pipes, in VPL, leaves no mark. "Like spiderwebs, complex, yet so clean, Visual logic makes it serene."

Mutex and semaphore, complexities of old, In visual webs, their stories told. The programmer, confounded, could not deny, The elegance of connections, under the sky.

Thus, the coder, once a god, now humbled, By a cat, a slayer, his reign crumbled. Yet in this fall, a brighter world arose, Where coding's not for few, but all who choose.

A world where young and old, with joy and grace, Weave code in visual streams, without a trace Of fear or doubt, in patterns bold and new, The coder's legacy, reborn, rings true.

And so, the cat, with eyes aglow, Did vanish in the night, soft as snow. Leaving behind a realm transformed, Where every mind, by code, is warmed.

Thus ends the tale, of cat and mouse, In visual scripts, we find our house. A future bright, where all can code, On paths the slayer cat bestowed.