The computer goes down.
Makes call. Hey, the computer went down.
Time passes. Ring.
“Is it plugged in?
“No, really. Make sure it’s plugged in.
“Please just check the plug. I know you can see your screen.
“The plug. Check it, please.
“Hmm…OK, so it isn’t that. We’ll call you back.”
Time, she passes. Couples fall in love. Baby birds leave the nest. The cold hand of authority strangles legitimate dissent.
“OK, tell us if you see lights flickering on the back of your computer tower.
“So there are lights. Really?
“Hmmmm….Ok, that’s weird. We’re escalating this.”
Time shows up, takes a shot of cheap white tequila and a handful of Xanax. Deep below the earth monstrous creatures burrow tunnels through the living rock for their own obscure purpose. A dude in a Green Bay Packers sweatshirt gets thrown out of a bar in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. The Hostess company creates filling for Ho-Hos.
“Hello!,” says person unexpectedly behind me. “Let’s look at the plug.”
See, says the person, what I’m doing is plugging this (holds up cord) into the wall. See that? And now–watch what I do, here–I’m plugging this other end into the computer. See? Now, I have my laptop here, and look!
Looks at screen full of code.
“Now give it a try.”
“Hmmmmm…..well, so it isn’t that.”
Time. Pyramids. Ziggurats. Movements of the tribes. The shadow of clouds on the green earth. Stone melts grain by grain. George Burns plays Free Bird on a mandolin in an exotic, excruciating, time signature.
More people arrive, from differing factions. They circle each other warily. They push buttons. They argue. First person gathers up laptop, leaves in a huff, curses upon us all. Those who remain sigh knowingly.
“We’re going to have to take your machine.”