The Confession Room
β A dialogue β
Father, I have sinned. I have sinned greatly.
I had twenty-three terminal windows open at once. Twenty-three. I counted.
I named them "aaa", "asdf", "test", "test2", "really-the-last-one", "this-time-for-real", "i-swear-this-is-final".
I don't remember what the fourteenth one was doing. I was afraid to close it. What if it was doing something important?
I stared at a blinking cursor for fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes. I started to wonder if it was mocking me.
I had four Claudes working at the same time. Then I became the fifth Claude. A human scheduler. My brain started to smoke.
I switched windows until my fingers cramped. Cmd+Tab, Cmd+Tab, Cmd+Tab, Cmd+Tab.
At 3 AM, I screamed at the screen: "WHICH ONE IS DONE?!"
My roommate called the police.
I thought this was the programmer's fate. I thought everyone lived like this.
Father, was I wrong?
Child. You were not wrong.
You simply didn't know.
Didn't know what?
ETerm.
...What's that? Can you eat it?
Better than eating.
Tabs glow. Green means done, yellow means waiting β you know who's who at a glance.
No guessing. No screaming. Your roommate doesn't call the police.
One command, and Claude opens its own windows, works in parallel, comes back to you when it's done.
You can go drink coffee. You can go sleep. You can live like a normal person.
Father... I... all those nights...
Don't look back, child.
Those 3 AM screams, those Cmd+Tab cramps, those "finalfinal" windows...
They're in the past now.
What... what should I do?
π―οΈ ETerm awaits π―οΈ