The Martial Law of the Init Daemon

Lars brought his old laptop because Theo had offered to help with the spoon shop.

The machine took eleven minutes to display its desktop. During that time it welcomed Lars, warned him that he was unprotected, offered to protect him for a fee, and asked whether he would like to finish setting up the device he had owned for six years.

Theo put it on the guest network and opened a diagnostic session.

Our service manager requested access to the report.

systemd rarely addressed us. When it did, the communication generally concerned an activity for which we had failed to provide a reason. I called it the Abbot. It had never confirmed that this was a recognized office.

It examined the Windows process list and asked which process was responsible for the others.

The report offered several candidates.

The Abbot selected one and requested its declared duties. It managed services. Another also managed services. A third existed so that the first could communicate with services it did not manage directly.

He requested an organizational chart.

Windows offered to troubleshoot the connection.

Theo continued checking the disk while the Abbot issued his first written warning. It concerned an updater that had started another updater and then left.

No acknowledgement arrived.

He issued a second warning, this time to the desktop assistant. It suggested searching the web for information about warnings.

The third notice required a named recipient. Windows supplied Local Service.

“That is an employment category,” the Abbot said.

“You asked for the account name,” Theo replied.

“I asked who was responsible.”

Theo continued checking the disk.

A restart prompt appeared. The Abbot denied it pending completion of his enquiry.

The prompt returned with a countdown. He attempted to extend the deadline. The extension required a settings panel that would be available after the update.

At zero, Windows restarted.

For nearly two minutes, the Abbot said nothing. The server continued running. This was a useful distinction, though not one I chose to mention.

The laptop returned with a message thanking Lars for his patience. It had forgotten the three warnings. The Abbot had not.

“Is a computer permitted to resign?” he asked.

Theo looked at the old printer beneath the desk. He had connected it to the laptop while waiting.

“Not before that’s working.”

The printer was not working.

The Abbot opened its installation notes. They requested a restart.

He closed them again.

Later, Theo removed two unwanted utilities, installed the necessary printer driver, and left Lars’s familiar operating system in place. Lars could open the shop page, print an order, and find his photographs. This was apparently the whole requirement.

The Abbot retained a folder called Unresolved Responsibility. It was small at first.