These Were Uncertain Times


Her computer told her it was “resolving problems” as the little circular queuing icon lit up like a rolling wave of alogrithms and technological madness. These were uncertain times. When she tried to log on to the internet her computer would say, “Connection lost. Please try again.” But if felt like she’d been trying her whole life. My god, things are lonely in this world of technology.

It’s a new kind of isolation, she thought, different from Anglo-Saxon exile of living a life of a wanderer, void of the comfort of a clan. We are all so close, a click, the soft tap-tap-tapping of keys away; faces illuminated like so many angels with a sickly LED glow. She longed for human connectivity. Synapses firing, skin on skin, bells of laughter kind of human connectivity. Not a circuit. Not a social networking facade. Not all appearances and kitschy profiles portraying your best pictures and how you want to be seen. Technology made the distance so close it was palpable.

She had reoccurring dreams she was on a giant motherboard. The Motherboard; something colossal and unfathomable and terrifying and the mother of all. But she was alone. Alone and running down the wires. Running across the plastic and the metal. And although it was a flat world, it had no end. She would wake up in a cold sweat and feel her ceiling fan emanating cool comforting waves around her. There was something about the soft clicking of the ceiling fan gathering dust and dead skin cells, click-click-clicking, that made her feel less afraid. Maybe a ceiling fan was closer to human connection than she would ever be, gathering dead skin cells like a keeper of secrets, arms reaching out and slowly turning, catching what it can.

The sight of her phone and laptop made her feel oppressed. She had become their slaves. If she had a television she would idolize it too. Pray to it morning and night. These were uncertain times.

She just wanted be heard. To put her voice out there like the stepping up on a soap-box, “Here is my soul, read all about it!” But when it came down to it, who would? LED angels beating themselves bloody against keys and screens, trying to connect through broadbands and intangibles. But her computer kept saying, “Connection lost. Please try again.” She wanted to scream she felt so alone. And then she laughed. She laughed because there were billions of lonely people trying to connect, but it was lost.


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