Parrots and typewriters

The typewriters sat in their places in the lecture hall, ready to race against time to copy every word the parrot said, no matter how important, trivial, or superficial. The brains of the typewriters were designed to write and record everything.

The parrot walks in strutting, wearing thick black glasses and an elegant black suit, followed closely by his monkey servant, who carries his wallet and coffee cup for him. He carefully places them on his desk, turns on his computer, and then leaves. The parrot asks the printers what page they stopped on yesterday, but they do not answer. They have forgotten what they wrote yesterday; they started looking for yesterday's papers and for the last word, but they got lost among the papers and the words.

The parrot began to read, and the typewriters began to type. In a dreamlike scene, the typewriter buttons danced to the same rhythm, rising and falling, and the pages that had been written flew, and words came out of them to dance like butterflies in spring. Suddenly, all this magic stopped, and darkness fell over the hall. The computer stopped, the parrot stopped reading too, his face darkened, and then the typewriters stopped typing.

The parrot checked the computer, tried to turn it on but failed, the typewriters stared at him, and when he turned to face them, he stammered, unable to speak; one of the typewriters shouted, "You are just a stupid parrot, and we are even more stupid than you," and at that moment the screaming rose, the typewriters threw papers at him, and chaos reigned in the hall...