Don't compete with me: firstly, I have more experience, and

Host: The office was lit by the cold, blue light of computer screens, glowing like restless eyes in the dark. The hum of machines filled the silence — a steady, mechanical breathing. Rain lashed against the high windows, smearing the view of the city outside into streaks of light and shadow.

The room was cluttered — open laptops, tangled wires, notebooks filled with half-drawn diagrams and equations that looked more like poetry than code.

Jack sat at the far end of the table, his face lit by the dull flicker of a screen compiling something too complex for comfort. His grey eyes were tired, but sharp — the kind of sharp that comes from knowing you’re right more often than you’re wrong.

Across from him, Jeeny leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. The two had been debating for hours — algorithms, ethics, design, life — all bleeding into one another the way only philosophy and code can.

Jeeny: “Edsger Dijkstra once said, ‘Don’t compete with me: firstly, I have more experience, and secondly, I have chosen the weapons.’”

Host: Jack’s head lifted slightly. He smiled, a slow, knowing grin — half admiration, half challenge.

Jack: “Now that’s the kind of arrogance I can respect.”

Jeeny: “You would. It’s not arrogance — it’s precision. He’s saying mastery isn’t about confidence; it’s about control.”

Jack: “Control of what? The system?”

Jeeny: “No. Of the arena. The wise don’t fight battles they haven’t already designed.”

Host: Jack leaned back, rubbing his hands together, the light catching the faint scars on his knuckles — reminders of a hundred metaphorical wars: deadlines, debates, impossible expectations.

Jack: “So Dijkstra’s telling people not to step into fights they can’t win?”

Jeeny: “No. He’s saying pick your fights like a strategist, not a fool. It’s not about dominance — it’s about context. Every victory depends on where and how you choose to stand.”

Jack: smirking “You make it sound like a philosophy class for hackers.”

Jeeny: “It is. He wasn’t talking about people — he was talking about intellect. Compete with someone on their terms, and you’ve already lost.”

Host: Jack turned his gaze back to the glowing screen, lines of code scrolling fast — neat, elegant, unrelenting.

Jack: “So, it’s a warning?”

Jeeny: “A declaration. A reminder that wisdom is not loud, it’s strategic. The experienced don’t rush to compete — they build the battlefield.”

Jack: “And choose the weapons.”

Jeeny: nodding “Exactly. The keyboard. The theorem. The silence.”

Host: A gust of wind rattled the windowpanes. The neon sign from across the street cast flashes of red into the room — OPEN, flickering like an unsteady heart.

Jack: “You know, I’ve seen too many people mistake noise for skill. They think competing loudly makes them relevant.”

Jeeny: “Because they confuse performance with intelligence. But Dijkstra knew — the smartest one in the room doesn’t shout. He’s already rearranged the rules while everyone else was arguing.”

Jack: “You sound like you admire him.”

Jeeny: “I admire his precision. He understood the quiet ruthlessness of intellect — not to destroy, but to clarify. That’s the real power of thought.”

Host: Jack chuckled, tapping a key to run his program again. The machine hummed, calculating.

Jack: “You think it’s possible to win without competing?”

Jeeny: “That’s the only way real thinkers win. They redefine the game so competition becomes irrelevant.”

Jack: “You mean like he did — turning programming into art.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. He wasn’t coding for machines. He was teaching humans to think better.”

Host: The light from the screens danced across their faces — a chiaroscuro of intellect and exhaustion. The code finished compiling; a message blinked: Process complete.

Jack: “So, let me get this straight — you’re saying the key isn’t strength, it’s foresight?”

Jeeny: “It’s choice. The wisdom to fight only on ground you’ve mapped, with tools you’ve mastered, for reasons that matter.”

Jack: “And experience makes that easier.”

Jeeny: “Experience teaches you how not to waste time proving what you already know.”

Host: Jack closed his laptop slowly, the sound crisp in the silence.

Jack: “You ever think that’s why people fear the experienced? Because they don’t play fair — they play efficient.”

Jeeny: “No one fears fairness, Jack. They fear precision. They fear those who’ve stopped reacting and started calculating.”

Jack: leaning forward, eyes glinting “And you? Which are you — the reactor or the calculator?”

Jeeny: smiling “I’m the observer. The one who knows when to stop competing and start creating.”

Host: Jack’s laughter filled the room — low, genuine, touched with fatigue. He stood, walking toward the window, looking out at the rain-slick streets below.

Jack: “So Dijkstra’s not just being clever. He’s teaching defiance — the kind that’s earned.”

Jeeny: “Yes. The defiance of mastery. The quiet confidence that says, I don’t need to prove anything. I’ve already built the proof.”

Host: The two stood in silence for a moment, watching the reflections of lights ripple across the glass — the city below, alive with noise, unaware of the stillness above it.

Jack: “You know, maybe the real message is that wisdom isn’t about superiority. It’s about preparation.”

Jeeny: “And the discipline to wait until the world catches up.”

Jack: “So the wise don’t compete?”

Jeeny: “They don’t need to. They simply act — and the world calls it victory.”

Host: The hum of the computers faded as the screens dimmed one by one. The room grew darker, quieter. The storm outside began to calm, the sound of rain now soft, reflective.

Jack turned back toward Jeeny, his voice low, almost reverent.

Jack: “You think that’s what Dijkstra meant — that experience isn’t about years, but about knowing exactly when to strike?”

Jeeny: “Yes. Experience gives you patience. The power to wait until the question itself becomes your answer.”

Host: She smiled then — a small, dangerous smile.

Jeeny: “And when you finally do act, it’s already too late for anyone to stop you.”

Host: The camera lingered on them — two thinkers in a quiet war of minds, surrounded by the hum of their creations. Outside, dawn began to seep through the rainclouds, washing the world in pale silver.

And as the first light hit their faces, Edsger Dijkstra’s words seemed to take on new meaning:

That true mastery does not shout,
nor seek applause,
nor crave competition.

It simply waits — calm, confident —
because the one who has chosen the weapons
has already won.