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What it feels like to program in Rust sometimes
The young man nervously rang the door-bell. A gruff man opened the door; after a few seconds of sizing him up, he nodded towards the inside, inviting him in.
They sat in the living-room. After a few tense seconds, the silence broke. \ “Son… what are your intentions with my
[u8]?” \ “Uh… I'm just borrowing her, sir.” \ “Her curfew is'a, just so you know.” \ “I'll have her back by then. I promise.” \ “You better. Now, son… tell me something. Are you two, you know… exclusive?” \ “Yes, sir.” \ “Then you better put a&muton it. That way the others know to stay away.” \ “Will do, sir.”While they had been talking, a woman had walked into the room. He recognised her as his datæ's mother. Her stare, somehow, seemed even more penetrating than her husband's. \ “Well, sonny, let me just make sure you're presentable, alright?” \ “Presentable, ma'am?” \ “Yes, presentable. It's the least you can do if you want to be her type! So tell me, do you implement
DebugandDisplay?” \ The young man looked at his clothes. “I… don't see why not?” \ A scoff came as a reply. “Humph! What a derivative response. Alright then, off you go.”The young man gulped. The first hurdle had been cleared; now, to ensure the datæ itself went well.