Eventually upon a time, in a universe far far away — or three stack frames down the line, to be precise...

Assembly is the ur-knife, known to man from the dawn of time. The flint edge is very sharp, but uneven and brittle. These tools can be fashioned both into knives for cutting and axes for hacking. In either case the edge will wear dull soon. Rarely are these venerated instruments now brought out in the modern day, and when they are, there is great ceremony involved. He who has the fortitude and stamina to hack down a Big Tree using a mere assembly axe, all the while uttering the sacred ancient mantra the meaning of which is now lost, will be much respected among his peers - though perhaps not considered entirely sane.

BASIC is a children's game that remains popular among youngsters. These plastic bricks can be quickly assembled together to form a toy with a certain charmingly crude, and entirely non-lethal, resemblance to an adult's blade. But beware of gravity, little one, as with too long a blade your construction will surely shatter at the midpoint. Some time-honored traditional techniques for counteracting this brittleness are chewing gum and duct tape.

C++ is the leading brand of gas-guzzling, noisy chainsaws. It'll fell the tree quickly all right, but needs serious muscle and experience for correct handling. The attrition rate among woodcutters is high, with many junior apprentices never returning from their first trip to the woods. Even senior loggers are often missing the occasional superfluous limb or two, but no matter: they've developed the forbearance and impressive skill to properly handle these beasts in single-handed combat. As they say, good judgement comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgement - if you survive it.

Java is now the most widely-used electric kitchen knife in the world. To prevent people accidentally cutting themselves up too badly, the blade is manufactured to a guaranteed consistently dull quality. Indeed this tool was originally developed in response to all the woodcutting accidents taking place with C++, which is perhaps curious considering that its safety features make it somewhat tedious to hack at anything more ambitious than saplings. But, safety first or not, it remains splendid at cutting bread.

Smalltalk is a voodoo stick. Wave it over a carefully constructed model of the real world, and stuff happens - trees fall, timber is cut to spec, and paper flows freely. It has long been a jealously guarded trade secret how this works, exactly, but we do know that the inventor is associated with Lisp - which we'll get to in a minute. Unfortunately, this powerful technology was and remains so far ahead of its time that it languished in obscurity long enough for the patent to expire, allowing some eastern philosophers to popularize a commercially highly successful clone. Catering to slightly more vulgar tastes, this clone may have sacrificed some of the original aesthetics, but not much of the seemingly supernatural power.

Forth self-assembling nanoblades represent the keenest baryonic blade edge currently available. Formed out of femtoscale building blocks that spontaneously stack themselves into arrangements of factorially increasing complexity, these axes will hack through a trunk with a single heave. They will also continuously and autonomously repair themselves so as to maintain the perfect edge down to the molecular level. The best neurosurgeons now refuse to use any other scalpel, and the razor blades made of this material provide for the closest shave you've ever had - just watch out that you don't shave off a little extra.

These are all ingenious inventions of man. But of all the cutting and hacking devices known to us, there is one exalted above all others, and it lacks an earthly origin.

Lisp is, as far as we can determine, magical. Obscure in origin but manifesting itself in our corporeal reality in the form of lightsabers, the crystal nanocircuitry of these devices appears to transcend the ordinary laws of nature as we presently understand them. Infinitely sharper than any scalpel, indestructible under a thousand atmospheres of pressure, these elegant instruments are made of an unknown alloy and keyed to their owner in such a way as to ensure they will never cut him.

Brace yourself when you initially receive yours from your elders. When you grasp the 'saber in your hands for the first time, parentheses and other cuneiform symbols will flicker in and out of your inner vision, and your ears may ring with thunderclaps not unlike the sound of continuous stack overflows. You may indeed have reason to wonder if the red pill you washed down with that lambda-tinted kool-aid at your initiation ceremony wasn't some form of psychedelic drug after all.

Fear not; while research is still ongoing, this is thought to be a harmless side-effect of nanites that have slipped into your bloodstream through the handle and are reconfiguring your brain to accept their base code. The symbols you may see are hypothesized to be a transient interface adapter between the human visual cortex and the alien technology of the 'saber, quickly supplanted by some more direct mechanism that we haven't quite figured out yet.

If you persist in confusion for a moment longer, the hieroglyphics will soon begin to fade into the background, becoming a subconscious part of your inner vision and lending your perception an acuity you didn't even know was missing. You will perceive not merely the apparent hierarchy of nature but penetrate yet deeper to the underlying infinitely more subtle relationships and interconnections between things.

Once the symbiotic link with your 'saber is fully established, you will be able to, at will, slice through the molecular bonds of any Gordian Knot as if they were made out of air. Given that you may will the width of the blade's swath to reconfigure itself from picometers upwards, your 'saber is easily the most precise and capable instrument known to man. The rush and elation, and yes, the pride, of wielding a lightsaber is enough to make anyone giddy. You should understand that with great power comes great responsibility, and you are advised to review the ethical code from time to time.

After further meditation and practice, you may eventually come to understand that it is not the blade that cuts, but your mind that sculps reality according to your imagination. This insight is reported to be the last thing uttered by some of the legendary Lisp grand masters before they, somehow, cut the ties that bound them to our sphere of reality, thus vanishing into thin air.

There is some speculation that, after contemplating year upon year on the grid lines that all Lispers are able to perceive in the night sky, these Lisp masters held infinity in the palm of their hand and found a nearby quantum activation frame, unlocking a suspended gateway continuation that allowed them to ascend to some higher plane of being that, evidently, encompasses and sustains our own.

A competing hypothesis among those of a more hedonistic bent is that perhaps the vanished masters managed to construct a private, entirely self-contained lexical scope, i.e. sub-universe, of their own, a form of personal nirvana obeying their own choice of evaluation rules and containing the promise of limitless futures to explore and indulge in.

There is only one way to find out - apply for a wizard's robe today and begin your own journey from caveman to first-order hacker of the heavenly spheres in this universe and beyond.

It bemuses me to read about people who are seriously working on artificial intelligence using stone-age programming languages like C++ or, heaven forbid, Java. Take this following backstory excerpt, for example:

Sure, the thinking machine might not get finished in the 3 months that our seed money would last us. But, in the meantime, to tide us over, we’d solve a simpler problem: we’d use some of the bits and pieces of our unfinished AI engine to predict the financial markets.

The technical co-founders and I had been working on the first version of the AI engine for many months, by the time the seed funding came in. A healthy amount of software code existed (although the code itself wasn’t entirely healthy). ...

Now that we knew what we were doing better, we moved further and further away from the brain as a concrete design inspiration. ...

We found the increasing complexity of the various agents in the system was stressing the codebase. After a lot of difficult debate, we decided to grit our teeth and rewrite the core of the system from scratch. ...

Cassio proved to be an outstanding manager as well as an excellent software engineer and designer, and we let him accumulate assistants until, at one point, we had 60 people there out of a total company staff of 130. ...

We were quickly realizing what should have been obvious from the get-go – that getting our thinking machine to work could well be a multi-year pursuit. ...

The Webmind system we had a month ago consisted of over 750,000 lines of Java code. ... Most of the 750,000 lines of Java is still useful — it covers issues like communicating with other software processes, balancing processing among different machines, reading parameters from files, and so on and so forth. Necessary infrastructure. ...

I reckon that, at this point, I’m at serious risk of becoming the Charles Babbage of AI. Babbage designed the first computer — a purely mechanical computer, pre-electronics. But it was just too damn complicated to build using the technology he had at his disposal. He spent all his money and his life on it, and never got it done.

— Ben Goertzel, Waking Up from the Economy of Dreams

If you’re going to attempt scaling the formidable, cloud-obscured peak of Mount Intelligence, you’d think that choosing the best possible toolset would be of some importance. While you might certainly overcome a small hill even crawling barefoot, blindfolded, and with your hands tied behind your back, why in the world would you suppose that this approach could possibly apply to the single most difficult climb out there?