Chapter 2: The First Step is the Deepest, and Other Lies About Operating Systems

Author took a deep breath, steeling himself for what the Guide had assured him was "a relatively simple process" and what he now felt might involve the accidental destruction of several galaxies if things went particularly badly.

The screen displayed the next instruction:

Welcome to the NixOS Installation Guide.
Please proceed with Step 1: Partition the Drive.

Author felt a twinge of unease. The word “partition” had always struck him as something that belonged in a sci-fi horror movie, possibly involving a spaceship split in two by a rogue wormhole. Nonetheless, he forged ahead, selecting the option marked “Manual Partition.”

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to NixOS helpfully noted that partitioning was "the process by which one divides their storage into logical segments for purposes that will almost certainly never make sense to the average person." In a slightly smaller font, it added:

“If at any point you feel confused, lost, or begin to experience vertigo, it’s best to lie down, breathe deeply, and question every life decision that has led you to this point.”

He clicked through a bewildering array of options. The Guide suggested he create three partitions: one for the root system, one for swap, and one for home. Simple enough, he thought, until he encountered the next message:

ERROR: Partition Overlap Detected. Please Repartition or Face Cataclysmic Data Loss.

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. Partitioning sounded like it could be handled with a quick click here and there, yet the screen now seemed more ominous, the partition overlap warning flashing with a pulsing red light. He looked back at the Guide, which had somehow anticipated his plight:

“Partitioning is, at its core, a delicate art, much like balancing an egg on a spoon while riding a unicycle through a crowded spaceport. Even seasoned professionals have been known to succumb to a dark existential malaise during this process. Should you find yourself confronted with a partition overlap error, don’t panic. Simply select the option marked ‘Repartition Entire Disk’ and surrender to the inevitability of complete data annihilation.”

Not entirely reassured, Author took a moment to contemplate his options. He remembered that he hadn’t backed up any of his files, but then again, the only important document he had on this computer was an email thread about a missing shipment of wool socks. He figured he could live without that, so he pressed “Repartition Entire Disk” and watched as the computer obediently wiped everything clean.

The next step, formatting, seemed straightforward enough. The Guide’s instructions here were surprisingly upbeat, stating:

“Formatting is a simple process by which the computer is told, in no uncertain terms, to forget everything it has ever known. Think of it as a fresh start—a blank canvas on which you can create any number of beautiful, horrific, or downright confusing configurations.”

Following the Guide’s advice, he selected the recommended filesystem type, something called “ext4,” which he assumed was a distant cousin of extroversion and, therefore, relatively harmless. The Guide, as always, had its own explanation:

“[[ext4]] is a stable filesystem type commonly used in Linux installations. It’s a bit like the sensible cousin who never shows up to family gatherings drunk. While other filesystems may offer more flashy features, ext4 prides itself on reliability, predictability, and a complete lack of interest in crashing during critical moments.”

Author selected ext4 for his root and home partitions, feeling a small surge of confidence. Perhaps, he thought, things would go smoothly from here. As the format completed, he moved on to the swap partition, which the Guide described as “a sort of emergency tea supply for the computer’s memory, to be used sparingly and only in times of great need.” He wasn’t entirely sure why a computer would need such a thing, but he figured it was better not to ask.

At last, the partitioning and formatting were complete, and he could proceed to the installation phase. He tapped the “Install” button, fully expecting the computer to spring into action. Instead, a new message appeared, accompanied by the soft, mocking beep of an error notification:

ERROR 17: Installation Media Not Found.

He checked the thumb drive, which was still there, still sticky, and still glowing with a faintly menacing green light. He removed it, gave it a shake, and reinserted it, only to be greeted with a fresh message:

ERROR 18: Installation Media Corrupted. Reinsert or Prepare for Total System Collapse.

Author could feel his patience thinning. The Guide had mentioned that this might happen, of course:

“In the event that your installation media becomes corrupted, first ensure that it’s inserted correctly, then sacrifice a small offering to the Computer Gods and attempt the installation again. If this fails, consider whether you truly desire NixOS or if you’d rather, say, take a long walk, read a novel, or do literally anything else with your time.”

He glanced at the clock. Hours had passed, and he still hadn’t managed to make the smallest dent in his original objective: a simple cup of tea. A thought flickered through his mind—a faint, horrifying realization that perhaps, just perhaps, the tea was simply not meant to be.

But no. He was too far gone to give up now. He took a deep breath, then another, and finally decided to try a technique the Guide had called “The Art of the Forced Reboot.”

As he restarted the computer, he noticed that the thumb drive’s stickiness had spread to his fingers, forming a tacky film that seemed to bind him to his fate. The Guide cheerfully noted that this was to be expected:

“The stickiness of the SuperStik thumb drive is designed to encourage commitment. Once you’ve embarked on the journey of installing NixOS, it will make sure you see it through to the bitter end.”

The computer rebooted, whirring and clicking, and Author found himself once more at the ominous blinking cursor. He typed “nixos-install” with all the conviction of a man who has lost everything and has nothing left to fear.

And at last, it began.

Lines of code scrolled down the screen, too quickly for him to read, each one a fragment of a grand cosmic plan that he barely understood but was now irrevocably a part of. He felt a strange, almost spiritual sense of awe. Perhaps, he thought, he was on the verge of enlightenment. Perhaps this was the path to the ultimate cup of tea.

Or perhaps, he realized as the screen flashed an unexpected error, he was simply in for a very, very long night.

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