Beginning

From Writing Machines

The internet was down. Again. The sun was still shining. Birds sang in trees as though nothing was wrong.

We were sitting around trying to figure out what to do. Someone started humming an old folk song. It's dangerous when too many young people get together with nothing to do. Politics might come up, and next thing you know you've got a few thousand of Them holding signs and staring down the business end of a fire hose.

It was fortunate that the conversation didn't turn to politics.

Instead PR started grumbling about technology—without the internet, he couldn't get onto Sakai to get to the class readings. "Whatever happened to handouts, anyway?" he demanded.

The cynical guy in the corner said: "It must be those hippies on the EQC trying to save paper or something."

Luckily this wasn't an idealistic bunch.

It was, however, a bunch happy to complain. Someone else chimed in--"Who cares about readings, I have no more music on the network!"

Before long the whole room was imagining what they couldn't do without technology.

"What about television episodes? 'Grey's Anatomy' is on tonight, and no one I know has a TV!" groaned one student.

Her neighbor gloomily replied: "Look on the bright side. World of Warcraft is going to have to be postponed for at least another 1.32 minutes. All the sad addicts of that world are going to have to spend that time thinking about their infant-stage theses. Think of the internet outage as some kind of public service."

It was even worse for those sitting silent. Panic was beginning to creep creep creep into their hearts, minds, and souls. They were fearing that they'd been brutally torn from their broadband-porn and that they'd never discover the fate of that sultry nurseso naughty and the strapping plumber in need of... further assistance.

But some amongst the group were thinking thoughts along the following lines:

Handouts? Who really gives a damn about handouts?

And television?

Warcraft? Bah.

And it was to them that the following idea occurred— People used to survive before computers. It had been done. It could be done now, too.

A bird was chirping outside--Maybe idealism wasn't totally dead?

Slowly, the idea began to take root. One student remembered what she'd heard before—something about how people used to just read books. And tell stories and whatnot.

And then someone—no one is sure yet—said: "I think we need to tell a story. "

Things got quiet for awhile. People had to digest the idea. Stories aren't such easy things to tell. Especially with people listening. Someone was pretty sure he'd sound dumb if he just blurted one out. Besides, all of his best stories were personal. Not fit for telling around the pseudo-campfire of an internet-free classroom.

There was uneasy fidgeting. A cellphone went off. The professor and a few students gave its owner the evil eye. The ring-tone was a clip from that Gnarls Barkley song. The cynical guy in the corner brooded. Someone rustled through their backpack in search of a snack.

And, it must be admitted, the bird song began to wear on everyone a bit, too.

But slowly the idea began to gain hold.

People began to sound a bit more optimistic. The room began to buzz. The birds were no longer audible.

-- "Huzzah for stories! I miss kindergarten. Those were the good old days--storytime, naps, cookies and milk..."

--"Oh and eating paste!"

--"Well, that too."

--"Regardless, storytime is in order. Paste-eating optional."

But no one seemed to know where to begin. After all, no one had ever really done it before. It threatened to get quiet again.

That was when magoo observed "Well, it seems like we're caught between lexia. Can't anyone think of a story to tell?"

It took a moment; quiet shuffling started. But finally marmalade piped up: "Well, I could tell a story."

Her story didn't take too long, and it got the cynical guy thinking.

“That was a good story,” he said when she'd finished. “It was right up my alley—the sarcasm, the scorn, the deception, I like it. I met the devil too, you know, but it wasn’t my ex-boyfriend/girlfriend. I wish it was. Unfortunately, there’s no deception in this devil story.”

But the group, stranded without their broad ban porn, was beginning to get antsy. All of this talk of devils and God and philosophy was making them itch. They were wondering about the nurse... In fact, they'd been having a hard time not thinking about her. Fortunately someone started to make up a story about her—just to get her off his mind.

That led to some talk about the strapping plumber. He was, after all, a pretty major player in her story.

And once the strapping plumber had been discussed, the ball really got rolling. The strapping plumber's plight reminded tophat of another story from years ago in which a plumber had been a major player. "It all started when my little brother was 5 and my grandma moved in with us." she began.

Suddenly the professor, who had been sitting quietly the whole time, spoke up. "I haven't had a chance to tell my story!"

The students turned. They had been so enraptured in their story-time that they had almost forgotten the professor was there. Many cheeks turned red. (After all, they were telling some pretty sexual, convoluted, messed up stories.)

They became quiet, waiting in anticipation for the story. The professor began.

The silence that preceded the first student story returned. How do you respond to a story like that? Now that the professor's secret had slipped, the students realized they didn't have to tell their stories. She had been there when Joe buried Klaus, when Godfrey downloaded sexy nurse porn, and when Steve imagine a Siberian husky's tail as he fell asleep.

Heck, she had been there since the beginning of time.

The professor uneasily tried to finish the day's lesson: "Any closing thoughts?"

Suddenly music started playing from one of the computers. It could mean only one thing: The network was back. The internet was on.

Shouts of excitement came from the students as they eagerly tried to check email. The professor said a silent, mental thanks to Gabriel, then slipped out of the classroom.