A dispatch from the front lines

Dearest Kate,

99 mail today. All spam and authenticaton links. I have transferred from Ubuntu to MintOS. I like it OK here, am working with Cinnamon and Mutter. Be sure to address my letters to the nightly build, if you don't I won't get them for several days. Just like opening Zed.

They say the 5-stars have spent the whole winter boozing and dining in a captured villa in Caserta. They've plenty of time to smoke Cuban cigars and practice vim binds. Must be nice.

Meanwhile, even my CPU complains of the cold, and we've got vibe coders crawling all over our position. I found one sneaking in through the localport yesterday disguised as an agent. When I challenged his credentials he called me "bro". Its a fucking nightmare out here, nevermind what they say on the television.

As you know, I would never use AI — 100% raw skill, no crutch needed. All the chaps in the platoon know I'm not a prompt monkey. They call me a regular Johnny code fingers, and no funny business either.

I like to keep the old skills sharp by timing incoming mortar shells. I hand write a register of arrivals in x86 assembly. Sometimes I comfort myself at night by reciting SHA hash tables. And of course, thinking about you, my dear.

While it pains me that I do not have to spend a frustrating month learning key binds to hold you in my arms, sadly this wretched war continues to keep us apart. Until we meet again, my heart remains unstaged.

To my beloved,

PS we are under strict orders to be on high alert for imposters. Disturbing reports of vibe coders masquerading as real engineers arrive on a daily basis.