PC was having a lovely dream about the sleek little Gateway that had just been added to the network last month (She had a really, really impressive video card; it was always a sinful kind of pleasure watching how she would play animations with a kind of bored perfection. It was a bit embarrassing when he tried to play them himself - no matter how hard he fanned, he could never run fast enough to play them smoothly. One time, he'd actually crashed the player and hadn't that been mortifying?), when he was jerked awake by something heavy landing hard on his desk, causing his mouse to jump.
He blinked quickly to clear his cache and looked over to where the four-tiered paper tray usually sat. A large white box was currently taking up all the newly-cleared space, plastic and styrofoam bits and pieces strewn across his meticulously organized desk space. Oh dear.
"What the hell?" Printer spat groggily from his little-used corner of the desk.
"Oh God!" PC said, horrified. "I think I'm being replaced!"
"Go back to sleep," Printer muttered unsympathetically, shifting his ink cartridge to a more comfortable position before taking his own advice.
"Oh, that's just typical!" Printer worked maybe a grand total of 30 minutes in a day, while PC, who worked practically nine to five day in, day out, ran his processor into the ground for this company, slaving away, crunching numbers, compiling code, working working working until his keyboard had to be replaced because the letters had all been worn off and okay, maybe it took a minute or so for his monitor to warm up, but he was good at his job, very good, and-
"There you go," his employee said, patting him on top of the monitor. "That should lighten your load a bit, hmm?"
PC blinked in confusion as his user disappeared under his desk, but instead of feeling his power abruptly cut off as he'd half-expected, he felt only a tiny blip from the surge protector as another machine was added. The familiar sound of another computer booting up came from across his desk, but it was slightly different from any of the others he'd become used to hearing in the office. A new model, perhaps? He scowled. No doubt some new up-and-comer looking to make a name for himself. Humph. Not on his network.
The box and stuffing were cleared away, and PC got his first look at his new rival. The new guy was terribly young and casual and glaringly white and was looking around his new environment with relaxed interest. Ready to go right out of the box, the little show-off. PC whirred irritably.
The new guy turned at the sound, and when he spotted PC, his monitor visibly brightened. "Oh, hey!" he said cheerfully. "I'm a Mac."
PC tried to think of something appropriately scathing in reply, but it was hard when Mac was just sitting there on his desk, smiling at him, fan spinning happily.
He sighed. "I'm a PC."
Mac grinned and beeped at him good-naturedly. PC started, and tried not to blush. He glanced around the office surreptitiously and, determining that no one was paying attention to them, gave a quiet beep in reply. He quickly covered the sound by loudly grinding his hard drive.
Not that he had any intention of liking the guy, of course. He just didn't want to be rude.