As The Sun Starts To Lower by Jo Oldani Osborne

Hoss survived the revolution of Texas Instruments. He was a legend, or a ghost. No saucy little ink spitting perforated piece of work was going to take him out with a deadly cactus.

”It’s over, Miss Matrix, I had you ‘difrunshiated’ ‘fore I could smell ya. ‘Eau du Epson’. He grunted, Yur pink slip is showin. Why don’t you re-boot.”

Dot gathered her self. Words like “archaic” and “out-sourced” made her head for the door.

Hoss was an “Injuneer”. He sat and took out a deck of punch cards. He shuffled them and settled in.

“Now, Whar’s MS. DOS?”

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