I desperately needed a friendly face to show me around this disorientating cyberspace. Still, I hesitated. I had only found Clippy because of directions I followed from a church headed by a serial killing slot machine. Clippy sensed my trepidation.
“Come on, dude; I’m just a small piece of bent metal. My job is to hold sheets of paper together and answer questions, and I’m all out of paper.”
I squinted, “Alright, Clippy, let’s start this nice and easy. When is it going to stop raining? And why don’t I feel wet?”
Clippy started bouncing again. “Never! It always rains in cyberspace; it’s got something to do with improving drawing efficiency. We could ask one of the real-time renderers for a more detailed answer, but I hope you love endomorphisms ‘cause they always seem to be in their answer.”
Clippy started bouncing away in the direction from where I had come. “Yo, are you coming or what? We’ve got more pressing issues than the mathematics of rain that doesn’t make you wet.”
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