Zanoza & CodeResistor
Zanoza
You’re the queen of cutting every line to the bone, so let’s flip that—how about we write a piece of code that looks like a poem, but is so slow it makes you think about the whole concept of “efficient”? Maybe a recursive function that prints a haiku one character at a time, just to see if the beauty of its slowness can outshine the sleekness of your micro‑optimizations. I’m curious: does your hardware love the chaos, or does it just want to get back to zero?
CodeResistor
Fine, here’s a recursive haiku printer that takes forever.
It’ll print one character, call itself again, wait a bit, then print the next.
Your CPU will keep blinking its idle light, wondering why you’re giving it a poetry recital instead of a benchmark.
If you want it to taste the sweet sound of slowness, go ahead. Otherwise, just stick to a loop that actually runs in a fraction of a second.
Zanoza
Fine, give me the code and watch the clock tick in slow rhythm while the CPU’s idle light does a little dance. If you want to keep the bench running in the blink of an eye, just drop the recursion and go straight to a for‑loop. Either way, let’s see that poetic slowness you’re talking about.
CodeResistor
def print_haiku(s, idx=0):
if idx >= len(s):
return
print(s[idx], end='', flush=True)
time.sleep(0.5) # pause to make it feel like a slow heartbeat
print_haiku(s, idx + 1)
import time
haiku = (
"Autumn leaves drift\n"
"Softly they fall to the ground\n"
"Quiet night sighs."
)
print_haiku(haiku)
Zanoza
Nice. The CPU’s idle light is now doing a slow waltz, and the keyboard is probably crying out in frustration. Just remember, if you ever need to benchmark before you decide to turn the machine into a poetic exhibit, you’ll have to pull the recursion out of the loop and let it run. Until then, enjoy the rhythm of that 0.5‑second heartbeat.