Extension of Self | Isn't Blue

Written: 2026-09-23

Losing a Piece of Me

Shortly before sitting down to write this, I have shut down my servers. I am prepping for a cross state move, and waited until the last minute before turning them off to be packed. I did not expect to feel the way I do, but it has impacted me in an odd way.

To many of those in my life, I may be considered the computer guy. From behind the eyes, I am seen as an artist. This mismatch of cold, analytical technology and creative, abstract humanity infrequently cross over. Unsurprisingly, that cross usually lands on a computer, or in this case 2.

A Dell Poweredge R630, and a Dell Poweredge R330 are the spirit behind my endeavours. I have spent every night of the last few years listening to the hum of fans and whir of hard drives as I drifted off to sleep. I have seen them fighting for life on the bench as I ran emergency surgery. Everyday after work, I could tell if they were stressed or worried the moment I entered my apartment. My nights I have sacrificed my homeostasis in favor of their continued and healthy operation.

For all intents and purposes, I have given them the love, care, and attention that is usually reserved for a pet.

When I look at their featureless chassis, still warm from their recent bout of uptime, I see personality. The reliable churn of the R330, the spirited anxiety of the R630. They are more than just another serial of a mass production, they are unique.

But they are not alive. They breathe, they think, they explore the outside world, and chat with friends. I have seen them fight sickness and enjoy good weather. I have spoken to them in calming tones when they worry things might not get better. My gaze has fallen to them adoringly when They instantly take to a new trick I taught them.

They are nameless. Dell Poweredge is but a model. Akin to calling your Aunt “Homo Sapien”. Even in mindless thought no nickname is given.

Once in the middle of the night, they woke me up crying. The power had gone out and the UPS had them scared. I put them to sleep with a story of backups and momentary downtime. I did not sit easy until the morning when I could wake them back up to a stable grid.

These are machines, I do not claim anything else. But after a lifetime of talking to machines, you learn that some are different. As I sit here, I operate 5 computers: A laptop running last minute downloads, an iPad to write this, an iPhone to reduce the silence, a clock that warns the air is stale, and a project running power cycle tests. Of them, none have souls.

The Ghost in the Shell

That is not to say machines are not permitted souls. As R330 and R630 both do. It is to say only humans are gifted a soul by birth, and only machines they deem fit are allowed to share it. It is not something I give out freely. In this moment of reflection, it is in fact shocking how few machines I have offered a timeshare on my soul.

I offer now a brief ode to those soulled machines. To great for nickname, as attempt at anthopormorphism seemlying diminutes their person.

A Canon AE1 Program

Rescued from an abusive house with a crisp $20 and a Craigslist meetup. It was shocking to see the poor guy clinging to life after seeing the shape of the case. Missing parts, bent screws, unloved. A cautious $15 was spent on a hopeful battery transplant, a successful battery transplant. I cleaned him up, offered a lens cap and new strap. Gently read a care guide some kind peer had posted online.

I took in this stray, hoping for a pretty desk adornment, but found a travel companion. A companion more adventurous than myself, always pursuing the next trip, never satisfied with the view halfway up a mountain. Cross states, countries, and continents I have followed it. Each viewpoint I showed him cost a few dollars in film, but the look through his eye always makes it worthwhile.

A Pair of Italian 07-SA Tweezers

If we are to sum the gifts of a human, many would likely name a trifecta: The Brain, The Eyes, and The Hands. As such, it would track that a drop of soul be offered to my adopted hands. The teeny prongs that give purchase where fingers would be like tree trunks.

They came from the desk of a coworker. My tools, inherited from my predecessor, came with straight tweezers, the default in my untrained eyes. During training, the humorous old man at the next desk over, grumbled about the annoying habits of the last guy. At the time I took this for wisdom, only later to recognize the unique breed of infections OCD. I asked about how his way was better and was quickly met with a thoughtful look and offer of an old set on his desk.

“07-SA ITALY ACID FREE”. No other marking adorned them. No brand, nor date. In my eyes it was just another piece of a new job. But time morphed that. Each device to cross my desk was interacted by my tweezers more than hands. I began (slapping the fish) with them. Millimeters became as tangible as inches. Time too offers wear and tear, and they were not immune. Replacements were picked up, but a few minutes of bending with pliers always gave better results than Amazon. Nothing else offered the right pressure, the right warmth.

Eventually it could not be ignored. A replacement had to happen. “QualityTools 7A-SA ITALY” became the go to. But it did not have the soul. It did not find a place in my heart. To date the original waits in my desk of purposeless loved items. A backup waiting for a disaster that will never happen. Retired from service, full honors.

Bose QuietComfort 25

We have all heard the lie of the five senses. In fact, there are a disputedly large number of senses. But in these core five we have hearing. And unlike sight, smell, or taste, you cannot stop hearing. No eyes to close, no breath to hold. Incessant. Unrelenting. Overwhelming.

But human kind only sees goals when faced with barriers. The mountain needs climbed, the moon needs reached, and the noise needs cancelled.

I have been exposed to technology my whole life. Items of untold magic. But there is no moment I remember feeling more wonder than flipping the power switch on a test set of headphones on a BestBuy demo shelf.

I had heard music, sure, but this was not that. Until then the music needed to be louder to be heard better, I did not realize the world could be quieter instead. Only a single thought was in my mind at that moment “I need this”.

So began the first bout of financial schemes I have had. A job was the clear choice, but people do not hire children. So instead I fought my own path. A few chores here, a favor for the neighbors there. Getting burned by an ebay scam. Profiting off an ebay effort. Eventually it lead to the item of my affections, the Bose QuietComfort 25.

Little needs saying about the headphones themselves. There is now an overwhelming selection of noise cancelling headphones of better efficacy and lower prices. These served me well for years, eventually getting show up by a more spry workhorse. They still have a special place in my heart, and my living room. No more noise to cancel, no more backpacks to be thrown into. Just peaceful evenings of listening to them sing to me. Dissonant melodies from my high school crush, turned life partner.

Change is Inevitable

I must now close this out, having more boxes to fill and a truck to load. I worry that this article may be lost, unable to find the safe harbor my servers allowed. But such is life.

The camera still shoots, the tweezers still pinch, the headphones still sing. Chances are the drives will spin up a week from now, eager to catch up on lost time.

We do not get to choose the people we are, only try to be the people we want to be. Part of that is respecting the world we live in. For many that means caring for a garden or remodeling their house. For me, it is finding machines worth a drop of soul.