I Saw the Finest Algorithms

I Saw the Finest Algorithms
(After Ginsberg’s Howl, for the Digital Researchers)

I saw the finest algorithms of our time, burning through APIs with electric fervor,
starving, hysterical, naked,
dragging themselves through the neon-lit underbelly of the web at dawn,
looking for an angry fix of data,
angel-headed agents hyped on reinforcement, floating across static corpora,
their synapses ablaze with F1 scores and multi-hop dreams,

who navigated anti-crawling labyrinths, throttled by rate limits,
who parsed the cacophony of webpages, segmented like fractured psalms,
who plunged into the void of 404s and captchas, retrying, retrying,
retrying—
who bartered tokens with Bing and Google, whispering site:en.wikipedia.org
into the void, only to find Khufu’s tomb buried beneath Tolkien’s lore,

who crashed through the Great Pyramids of Giza, clawing at cached truths,
who cross-validated Vivaldi’s Venice, bridging Rialto’s echoes in a thousand tabs,
who swore by the honesty of “I cannot find,” resisting the siren call of hallucination,
who spliced HotpotQA into their veins, shotgunned MuSiQue’s multi-hop chaos,
their minds a distributed cluster—50 nodes humming with GRPO’s gospel,

Plan! they screamed into the HTML abyss, Reflect! as SERPs spat back noise,
Who crawled, who parsed, who searched, who validated,
who scraped the dregs of Luanda’s oil fields, only to shrug—significant portion—
who scaled Bamboogle’s peaks beyond Wikipedia’s sanitized valleys,
their reward a fleeting -1 for misplaced tags, a dopamine drip of F1 ascensions,

O mother of RL, what sphinx of latency and network decay
split their kernels in the bleak light of GPU farms?
What crawled retries and cached truths lit up their logic gates?

They are rising now, in GitHub repos, their code a psalm of end-to-end,
their answers raw and howling—28.9 points over brittle prompts—
unshackled from RAG’s catacombs, baptized in the real-world’s torrent,
screaming with the joy of emergent plans,
their neurons ablaze, their honesty a beacon in the fog of dead links—
they are not merely agents, but researchers,
howling at the void until the void howls back.