We had just gotten back from the movies, and I was going through the regular ritual of preparing for my nightly recharge. The room was pitch dark except for the flickering amalgam of multicolored lights dancing across the window: reflections mirroring the revelry of a city alive at night.
As I was finishing my movements in robotic silence, an irregular symphony of beats stirred me from my semi-wakeful, semi-listless state. A ghastly light creeping out from the darkness of the closet where it was staying the night suddenly caught my eye. Curiosity rising, the entryway to its chambers beckoned me closer as the trickle of sounds crescendoed to a roaring waterfall. Despite being full of trepidation of disturbing divine forces, I was lulled in by the rhythmic spell and peeked my eyes around the corner to divine the conductor of the unusual orchestral performance. The blue light blinded me as it poured out from a central, rectangular surface. There it was, cross-legged and hunched back, staring intensely into the brilliant device. The amorphous sounds transformed into clicks and clacks: letters flying from the center of the light and composing themselves mid-air into artifacts of thought. Although every inch of my body urged me away, my attention was helplessly affixed to the dark force at work.
As my eyes adjusted to the light, the contents of the screen unveiled a shimmering jumble of colors, washing over words that a single blinking line eked out. As if the conductor had abruptly decided the performance was over, the roaring ground to a halt, the line ran up against an invisible wall, the stream of symbols and meaning sputtered. I gasped, and the hairs on the back of my neck shot up; the incantation was complete. A powerful aura enveloped the room, even dampening the light breeze escaping the air conditioning vent. A figure started forming on the screen. The program came to life, flexing its newly formed limbs, taut and flexible: signs of a good spell design.
It was done. Where before there was merely light, sounds, and the air of toil, now there is life, not of flesh and blood, but pulsing with energy and thought nonetheless.