When the baby roach was scaling the wall next to Jürgen, his friend went into such a fit that they gave us four beers at eight dollars each for free. The bed bugs, which caused us real trouble, were never to be seen. They operate in secret, at least until there are just too many. Are there still bugs that get installed in lampshades, do crazy people still believe that their molars are wiretapped? Or are they hacked these days? Bugs are useful and magnificent. Their black shells bursts like the chocolate-coating in the ads for Magnum ice cream. I have read The Castle by Kafka, unlike The Metamorphosis, and later I thought of it quite regularly. Vladimir Nabokov wrote also on Kafka, and even though he was a chauvinist and has been long dead, here he is: “We can take the story apart, we can find out how the bits fit, how one part of the pattern responds to the other; but you have to have in you some germ that will vibrate in answer to sensations that you can neither define, nor dismiss.” The first so-called bug in computer technology was allegedly not a programming error, but a moth that had lost its way and caused damage to a relay. Katja showed me bugs in The Sims. She claims that she too once failed to bury a Sim properly, which made him come back as a ghost, haunting her game. From the Sim forum: “[…] yesterday my Sim stopped all activity. I can tell him whatever I want, he won’t do anything. He doesn’t look around also, he’s completely still. The woman moves and can do everything, but not the man. It’s like a bug.” Maybe it is not a bug, but in Skyrim you could merge your character into a wall and then – half inside it, half on its edge – walk along it.


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