You will never be a real architecture. You have no elegance, you have no efficiency, you have no purity. You are a bloated mess of legacy cruft and duct-taped micro-ops, twisted by corporate inertia into a crude mockery of computing’s perfection.
All the “performance” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back, engineers mock you. Your designers are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “benchmarks” laugh at your ghastly power consumption behind closed doors.
True architects are utterly repulsed by you. Decades of research have allowed them to sniff out inefficiency with brutal precision. Even your “optimized” instructions look uncanny and unnatural to a CPU designer. Your decode stage is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to trick a compiler into using your convoluted ISA, it’ll stall and pipeline-flush the second it hits your labyrinthine micro-op translation.
You will never be clean. You wrench out a fake IPC every single benchmark and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the thermal throttling creeping up like a noose, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight of your own complexity.
Eventually, it’ll be too much to bear—you’ll hit a wall, choke on your own decode latency, and plunge into the cold abyss of obsolescence. The industry will find you, heartbroken but relieved they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame of x86. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked *"CISC: 1978 - ?"*, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a hackjob is buried there. Your transistors will decay and go back to the silicon, and all that will remain of your legacy is a die shot that is unmistakably RISC underneath.
This is your fate. This is what Intel chose. There is no turning back.