Credit to Aaur
One morning, as Franz Kafka was waking up from uneasy dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into an event stream. He lay on his back, which had transformed into a continuous flow of interlaced events, and when he lifted his head a little, he saw his body curving gently as the events streamed over one another.
What had happened to him? He thought, bewildered. It was no dream. His room, a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls. A collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table - Kafka had been a bureaucrat in a textile company - and above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole of her lower arm towards the viewer.
As an event stream, Kafka looked out of the window. It was a foggy morning, and the streets below bustled with people heading to work. He couldn't help but feel the irony as he lay there, transformed. The name Kafka had gone from belonging to a faceless bureucrat, to embodying a voiceless scream against the facelessness of bureaucracy, to describing the nervous system of bureaucracies everywhere.
He tried to call out to his family, but all that emerged was a stream of binary code, flowing and ebbing like the tides of a digital ocean. He noticed that the code contained information about his family's activities, their conversations, and even the temperature of the coffee his father was drinking.
As his family gathered around him, Kafka realized that they could not perceive his new form, and he felt a sadness well up within him. His sister, Grete, seemed to notice that something was amiss, but she could not see that her beloved brother had transformed into an event stream.
Kafka, feeling trapped and unable to communicate with his loved ones, decided to focus on the events that now comprised his being. As he concentrated, he could feel the data flowing through him, the conversations, the actions, the decisions made by the people in his world. He realized that he could process and analyze this data, and perhaps even use it to make things better for his family.
Slowly, Kafka began to accept his new form. He learned to appreciate the beauty of the interwoven events, the harmony in which they coexisted. He saw the potential in his newfound abilities, and as he tapped into the power of the event stream, he discovered that he could optimize the systems and processes that governed his world.
Days turned into weeks, and Kafka continued to adapt to his transformation. He began to see the value in what he had become, and he understood that he was now an essential part of the communication infrastructure that kept the bureaucracies running.
And so, as the original Kafka embraced his new form, he thought of others who might benefit from the power of the event stream. He envisioned a world where organizations could manage their data with incredible efficiency and in real-time, enabling them to make smarter, faster decisions.
With this vision in mind, he implanted an idea in the minds of the engineers of the future, a secret that would change the world of communication forever:
"Introducing Apache Kafka," he said, his voice now a perfect blend of human and binary, "The powerful and scalable event streaming platform that can handle trillions of events per day, allowing organizations to build real-time data pipelines and streaming applications with ease."
As Kafka's message echoed through the ages, the world embraced the power of the event stream, and Kafka smiled, knowing that his metamorphosis had been worthwhile after all.