We all know what the Internet is, and, if you’re like me, you take it for granted. It’s just there, except when the lines go down, at which time society grinds to a halt.
I haven’t ever really thought about what happens behind the Webpages that I happen to be visiting – all the work that goes into the interface, and the delivery systems, and the networking. I guess the Internet is like a good book: One just appreciates it without thinking about everything that went into it.
But at Deadly Ink I met David Herst (and his wife, Andrea), who works behind the scenes on the technology we have all come to rely on. He was once with a consulting firm specializing in the “middleware” that drives much of the Net. He and his colleagues called themselves “Middleware Mavens.” David had written a sort of tribute to middleware and to the firm, basing his poem on Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven.” Of course I asked to read it, and it’s a treat! David has allowed me to share it on this blog, so I proudly present:
Ode to a Maven
by David Herst
Linked in: https://www.linkedin.com/in/davidherst
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
O’er a vexing SQL query glaring from my monitor,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, tapping at my office door.
“‘Tis the janitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my office door,
Wanting trash, and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember, ’twas a frosty, bleak December,
Countless dying Camel embers smoldered on my office floor.
“Build a system,” they had tasked me. Specs and reqs they soon had faxed me.
Reading them did not relax me as I saw what lay in store:
Hopeless challenges galore.
“Link our many databases, resident in far-flung places.
Build a web app that replaces all the apps we had before.
Make it fast as summer lightning” – here I felt my chest a’tightening –
“Fast, secure, transactional, like all the apps we had before,
Make it just as functional as all the apps we had before,
Only better than before.”
As I thought about it longer, all my fears grew ever stronger.
C++, some scripting, native APIs and little more:
All the tools at my disposal weren’t enough for this proposal.
Which thought led me to suppose I’ll need a miracle before
I can build a system like nobody’s ever built before.
A miracle (or three or four).
So I labored on that system. Bugs? Too numerous to list ’em.
Deadlines? I routinely missed ’em; they were easy to ignore.
Furiously did I write plumbing code until my mind was numbing,
Picturing myself succumbing to the terror at my core,
Struggling to speak, as I lay wasted on my office floor,
One word only: “Nevermore.”
Now, this night, my heart grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my office door.
That I scarce was sure I heard you” – here I opened wide the door; –
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Back into the office turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore. –
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; –
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!”
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Maven, such as never seen before.
Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched upon my monitor –
High above my storm of papers, perched upon my monitor –
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Suddenly I felt so certain, he had come to lift the curtain
Hiding from me all the answers I had long been searching for.
“Tell me, Maven, tell me truly, how to tame this beast unruly,
How these crude technologies can now be used as ne’er before?
How these tools can build a system no one’s ever built before?”
Quoth the Maven: “Nevermore.”
Then to desk he floated downward and, commanding mouse and keyboard,
Showed me new technologies of which I had been unaware.
App containers that would proffer services I couldn’t offer.
Promises that left me breathless; I could only sit and stare.
“‘Tis a dream!” I told the Maven, “‘Tis but empty vaporware!”
Quoth the Maven, “Au contraire.”
Here were possibilities to handle all the “ilities” too.
Sure enough it was the answer I’d been seeking in despair!
“Maven, tell me,” I implored him, as I slowly leaned in toward him,
“What are these new miracles of which I have been unaware?
Name this sorcery of which I heretofore was unaware!”
Quoth the Maven: “Middleware.”
Then the Maven, with a flutter, took off through the open shutter,
Disappearing silently into the frosty midnight air.
Though he suddenly departed, I was from from brokenhearted.
Rather I was just elated, filled with joy beyond compare.
While the soundtrack to my happiness came wafting back across the air:
The Maven’s mantra: “Middleware.”
Armed with my new revelation, I proceeded to creation
Of a system that I humbly tell you was extraordinaire.
It did all the client asked for, everything that I was tasked for,
Not to mention that it sings and dances just like Fred Astaire.
(Please forgive me if I say again, it was extraordinaire!)
And the secret? Middleware.
Nowadays, I must disclose, I always hear it at symposi-
a and conferences and user groups and meetings everywhere.
Even in my deepest sleep, into my dreams it dimly seeps.
Warmth it brings into my heart, like sunlight to the summer air.
Like the sunshine melting clouds and warming up the summer air,
The Maven’s mantra: “Middleware!”