PROLOGUE The MOSCONE CENTER in SAN FRANSCISCO. A crowd gathers to hear the elocution of JOBS. CHORUS: O for a Muse of fire––but an improved iPhone will suffice. The warlike Jobs isn't on the vast fields of France, but today his company's latest toy goes international in a big way: faster internet, lower prices and a shopful of new software are this stage's imaginary puissances.JULIAN SANDS: The World, form'd out of Chaos. Man is made! MARVIN: Right you are, Warlock fella. If it wouldn't rend the fabric of reality, I'd tell you all about the awesome WWDC of 2024, where iClones go from being an old joke to being the "One More Thing" we can enjoy over and over again. CHORUS (Ellipse): Wait until they start chanting "No iPhone, no peace. No 3G, no peace. CHORUS (Codders): Did I mention, at any point, that apple is the devil? CHORUS (Einstein): I prepare to have my reality field distorted. JOBS (Faking it): I'm sick of this whole bullshit keynote Dear Leader act. I really am. A booming voice from the outer darkness echoes... GIZMODO: The smell of urine subsides. SENESCHALS usher in the JOURNALISTS and ACOLYTES. The hall is dark, expansive. JULIAN SANDS: Terrified, were they not? HERALD: All cellphones and pagers off, please! ACT 1: JOBS ENTERS JOBS ENTERS STAGE RIGHT upon a gilded chariot drawn by sylphs and nephilim, GODHEAD SHIMMERING. Once again, His flesh has been made corporeal, and He addresses His SUBJECTS, who can not fail to notice that JOBS' chariot is 20% slimmer than the year before. METEORS collide in the heavens. BOOM! JOBS: O, ye mortals! Welcome! O, ye high priests! There are over 1,000 of you in attendance, ready to supplicate the masses, yet our temple can not hold all of our brethren. We must proclaim our new Sneak peak at the new OS, Snow Leopard. CHORUS (Winterk): I shall build a WWII era computer to decode the secret language. JULIAN SANDS: I would ask that we wait. ... For the real Zamiel to appear. JOBS pulls out a holy chair. "Behold my holy stool. It has three legs, the most stable configuration. It represents iPhone 2.0, and its legs form Enterprise, SDK and new features." MARVIN: Stool? Show us the real deal, boss. CHORUS (Ikeadelic): Perhaps Jobs is seeking to become a god by first becoming immortal via one of those Calorie Restricted diets that have worked wonders on lab animals. CHORUS (Timcase): Did he announce the flying car yet? Enter SCOTT FORESTALL on a chain attached to JOBS' gilded loin cloth. SCOTT FORESTALL: Meep! MEEP MEEP! JOBS: HE SAYS YOU WILL ALL TREMBLE AT THE SDK! Exeunt SCOTT FORESTALL. MARVIN: At least we have neat drag-and-drop app building for iPhone 2.0! Wait, I already knew that: it was old-hat centuries ago. ACT II: A maze of twisty apps, all alike JOBS: Behold my Super Monkey Ball! Behold my contact searching app! And now behold the cleaving of the firmament and the birth of a new operating system — the iPhone — a godling through and through. CHORUS (Rogan): iPhone = another operating system. Great. One more to develop for! CHORUS (Krod): Kool-aid is always good at covering the taste of poison. With a great crack, an ebay iPhone app appears on the great display CHORUS (isol8ed): Heh, build me a sniping app for ebay. CHORUS (codedancer):With the iPhone the pr0n store comes to you. CHORUS (Rogan): The first app you put on your phone is eBay to....auction off your new iPhone? ENTER SAM ALTMAN, A MAN WEARING TWO COLLARED SHIRTS AT THE SAME TIME. SAM ALTMAN: Loopt. EXEUNT SAM ALTMAN MARVIN. At last! A service to help your spouse find out how much time you've been spending with hookers Another voice from the outer darkness booms... GRUBER: Loopt is a location-based social network for douchebags who wear two ill-fitting polo shirts at the same time. JOBS: In extra-dimensional realms beyond your fleshy ken, the gods mellifluously speak through crystalline conches–a far cry from your 'blogs,' monkey men. (Contemptuously) Blogs. A strange sheep-like bleating. A bovine cut-and-paste. Oh, I will give you your blogs, filth beasts. I will give you them! BEHOLD! Birthed of my seed in the belly of my own daughter, TYPEPAD... FOR BLOGGING ON THE GO! CHORUS (Rogan): TypePad on iPhone: Now you can have people ignore posts you write anywhere! CHORUS (miakeru): OMG A TypePad app you can buy instead of using TypePad's free web app! JOBS: BEHOLD! A 3D CAVEMAN RACING GAME! Marvin: I'm living it. Enter An Anthropomorphic Cow from Albion, COW TERRY. COW TERRY: What ho! Pip pip! As you like it, guv! JOBS: BEHOLD! THE MAJESTY OF BRITANNIA! Exeunt COW TERRY JULIAN SANDS: Of all the curiosities here I've seen, none could've surprised me more than this. CHORUS (Timcase): AP reports: Area man performs vasectomy on self with new iPhone medical exploration app. CHORUS (Doormouse): I really want to go to a doctor who can remember "leg." JOBS: Since I first imbued the divine spark to the mudskippers that squirted you in fetal ooze from their bellies, since the moment your boneless ancestors belly flopped onto land and gasped, man has dreamed of the ability to check baseball scores on cellular telephones. But until now, no such technology existed! You all thought it was impossible. You all thought it was magic. But I am alpha and omega. BEHOLD! Baseball scores on your iPhone! MARVIN: This keynote is a total pile of app. CHORUS (Rogan): You know what would make this keynote better? Anything. ACT III: Power Management Curator's note: Unfortunately, this part of the play did not survive the ravages of time. MARVIN: Thank the Gods for that. ACT IV: The Isle of the Led JOBS: The iPhone is my daughter. Her breasts and thighs pubescently swell, as filthy carnal men swell likewise with desire. She has come of age, on this, her 2.0eth year. From her lactations come bulk email delete / remove. Trickling down her thighs like honey comes saved images and parental controls. And ensconced deep in her maidenhead? A scientific calculator upon which mortal men may tap and play. JULIAN SANDS: Mortal? I'm not a *man*, I'm a witch! CHORUS (mike-s): This is the point where you want to end the foreplay to catch the last 5 minutes of the nightly news. CHORUS (EvilMole): Mobile me CHORUS (schwal):Mobile me CHORUS (derrik): Mobile me? MARVIN: Where's the iPhone 2? History can't be rewritten! JULIAN SANDS: [placing a hex on Jobs] Tout, Tout, through and about; your callow life in dismay. Rentum, Osculum, Tormentum: a decade twice over a day––if you don't announce iPhone 2, pronto. CHORUS (mmmkile): Jobs is a god, information stored in clouds, GENIUS! CHORUS (zero): This is going nowhere, so I'm going somewhere. There is a mighty rend in the heavens, thunder and lightning. All see in the earth a stupendous divide, a moiety of the world JOBS: BEHOLD! I have divided the world in twain. There shall be the purified, who pay $100 a year for the Me lifestyle sync service. And then there shall be those left behind amid the swill and debasement of corporeal existence. But that is not all. Now... now is the time... ACT V: Machina ex Deus JOBS fades to silence. He kneels. He prays. The Chorus chants: CHORUS (together): 3G. Thinner. Flush headphone jack. Superior audio. Full plastic jacket, black as the night. GPS, to us as Liahona was to Lehi's tribe. JOBS leaps to his feet. There is silence again. JOBS: BEHOLD! The 3G iPhone! As beautiful as Achilles, as fleet as Mercury, and as sleek as Aphrodite's waist. Compared to her, EDGE is a troglodyte's pizzle of a phone. Yes! GPS! And you shall see the world through my eyes: the perspective of Heaven itself, given thus unto mortal view, and available from July 11 throughout the lands. The ACOLYTES sway and murmur. JOBS: What must be your blood offering? How much shall you tithe? I will give you the iPhone for $199 with an ample bosom of 8GBs. And she will swell to voluptuousness, juicily inflate: 16GB for $299. There is another great crack, as Twitter explodes. Exuent all amid a shower of hyacinth petals and their own numbed but adequately-met expectations, leaving only StilezBM32 of the CHORUS CHORUS (StilezBM32): WHERE IS CUT AND PASTE?!?!!