Lockdown Legacies
Day 1579. That was all it was now. No more months, years, anything like that. Just the endless creep of the days ever upwards as everyone sat in their homes and did what they had to do. It had been around Day 300 that people seemed to give up on the old calendar. What was the point of having them if there was never really anything to plan? Just the inside days, ticking upwards, ever upwards.
Martin logged on. That was the start of every day, logging on. It was easier now that everything was connected through FaceTwiGram. His username, though. Eurgh. If he’d known that your user ID would be how you were legally referred to (as enshrined in law on Day 795), he never would have chosen StuPitt. Still, what was done was done. No use 😠over split 🥛.
He scrolled through the feed. The usual list of cancellations and counter-cancellations for the day (most of which would be swapped round by the end of the day). He was just on the third of the mandatory five funny cat videos per day when that dreaded wheel of death appeared. No internet connection. Eurgh, the perfect start to the day.
Switch wifi off and on again. Nothing. Ok, step two - reboot machine. Still nothing. Sigh. This meant that Martin (in his head, he still thought of himself as Martin despite the legal mandate) would have to go all the way downstairs and reboot the router. Great. What a brilliant start to the day. He’d already been downstairs to get breakfast. He wasn't expecting to use the stairs again until at least lunchtime. Unbelievable.
OK, router off and wait thirty seconds. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Was that thirty seconds? It felt like it, it was probably close enough. Router back on. Check phone. Apparently connected but still no wifi. Alright then, back upstairs to check the main machine.
Nope, nothing. No internet. Another check on the phone (using data for this; resentment and irritation levels increasing). No reported network problems.
Martin huffed in irritation. He would have to call The Company (there was just the one broadband provider now; it was easier that way). Speak to an actual person - or, at the very least, an excellent AI approximation of one anyway. Martin dithered. Actual vocal contact was something he avoided as much as possible these days. Why bother? It wasn’t like you were going to meet anyone in person anymore anyway.
Girding himself, he phoned up. Twenty minutes navigating the auto-menu system finally brought him to a voice, one which Martin was reasonably sure was not strictly speaking human in the traditional sense.
Forty more minutes and a sinking sensation opened up in the pit of his stomach. The investigation was complete. The problem was the router. Martin would need a new one.
“Can I get one delivered?” said Martin, trying his best not to let the rising sense of panic within him creep into his voice.
“Certainly, StuPitt. That will be with you in...twenty days.”
“No. No, no, no,’ said Martin, “I need it sooner than that, can't I get one quicker than that?”
“Certainly, StuPitt. There is an appropriate model available for collection now at your local Company Collection Point which is… 0.4 miles from your current location.”
Martin swallowed. He did his best to sound calm. On the inside, though, a long drawn out scream of sheer existential terror was building and, if he let it out, it might not end. It was becoming clear that there was only one choice. He would have to go outside.
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Martin paced fretfully up and down the hallway. He checked and double-checked his outfit. FullSeal Face Mask. HypoClean Outdoor Onesie with TruSeal Gloves. Wipes, sprays, lotions, oils, gels. All the standard accoutrements for leaving the house. He was ready. But he was not ready. Martin hadn’t left the house since Day 983 and even then that had only been to go to the end of the drive.
He could do this. He just had to get out and go. He could do this. He could do this. Martin opened the door.
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It took Martin something close to an hour to navigate his way the seven hundred yards to the Company Collection Point due to the various doubling backs and crossing of the road he had to do to avoid the (very few) other similarly suited people he passed on the way. Eventually, he found himself before the collection desk explaining to the bored-looking (at least Martin assumed that he or she was bored looking; it was hard to tell through the gear) desk operative what he was there for.
After a sigh, a shrug and a shuffling off into the depths of the Collection Point, the desk operative eventually returned with a small and unobtrusive looking box which was placed into the VacuSeal airlock chamber before being liberally sprayed with various anti-viral solutions. When Martin's side of the VacuSeal opened, he took the package with slightly trembling hands and did his best not to cry. He had done it. He had navigated the outside and achieved his goal, like some great adventurer of yore.
“You are all I ever wanted in a wifi,” he found himself whispering to the box.
“What was that?” asked the desk operative, seemingly confused.
“Nothing,” muttered Martin quickly and scuttled out of the door.
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The box was opened, the router installed and power flowing. All looked well. Martin checked his phone - connection and full signal. Looking good. Well, it had been a trying day, what with the whole “going outside” thing but Martin had achieved his goal and made it through unscathed. All in all, a good day. He couldn’t wait to get logged on and tell all of his friends about the Great Adventure - DonkeyPoop789, MeMeQueen, The Stinkinator.
Martin went upstairs (yeesh, this was becoming a habit today) and switched on the computer. Nothing. He tried again. Nothing, No response, no sound of starting up. Nothing. The machine was dead.
Martin wept.
The Prompt
Here is what I had to work with courtesy of James:-
Story title - "Lockdown Legacies"
Character name - "Stu Pitt"
Object - "Wifi Router"
Line of dialogue - "You are all I ever wanted in a wifi"
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