First Act Series — Screensaver
A farce and a necessity. That’s what my life in tech support is. That’s why I can put up with the nonsense I get from the boss everyday. Install this program, wipe that hard drive. These idiots would be lost without me, I have some special knowledge, I’m needed. These are the lies I tell myself to get through the day. Of course, it’s a little true, as are all the lies we tell ourselves. Just the little bit. It’s what I’m good at sure, but man, why did I have to be good at this shit?
And yesterday, I just about had it. The boss called me in, “Hey buddy, I asked you not to use Linux right? Nobody else can use your computer when you’re double-booting or whatever. Switch it back, Linda needs your laptop when you’re off your shift.”
That bitch, no wonder the background was full of Caitlyn Jenner bikini selfies. “You’re letting Linda use my laptop when I’m not here?! I know resources are low, but she can’t even plug in a flash drive without going into convulsions!”
The boss looked at me with his bald, postpartum depressed head. I knew I’d crossed a line. He liked Linda, and sometimes I’d even agree that she could be called likable. But not everyday, and certainly not recently. He had it, “How many times do I have say it?! I don’t want any feedback! This is not a democracy and I’m the king around here. You can either shut up about it, get rid of that linux bullshit, or get the fuck out! I’ve had it with you!”
My emotions were burning, but I needed the cash, and I caved, again. I hated myself more than the average tonight. Maybe the liquor doesn’t help, maybe it does. But I think I should sleep it off. Hopefully things will get better in the morning.
That night I dreamt of a line. A white line starting from the edge of my peripheral and stretching across the horizon. Stretching so far that I couldn’t see the point anymore. But the line began to thicken and broader and broader it grew. It began to tower in front of me and for first time in a long time, I felt a tremble in my stomach. A pitted fear that I hadn’t felt since middle school. The brightness was looking down on me now, and I knew it was staring. The stare started warm, but that didn’t last long. The heat started to cinder and I knew it would keep rising, rising until I couldn’t stand and the heat would drop me to my knees, keep rising until it brought my head to the floor and I stretched my hands out to pray for it to all go away. And then I woke up.
My vision was blurry, as it always was in the morning when first taking in the new sun, and I blinked once or twice. I kept my eyes closed, wishing I had gotten more sleep, but it was what it was. Time to start a new day, brush my teeth, get out the dirty jeans. I’d probably have run into Linda on the way in, the stupid bitch gleaming with her yellow corns as she got her way yesterday. I opened my eyes, and it was there. The image that kept me tossing and turning all night, the screen that left me without rest, it was still there. I could make out my peripheral, but I could look at it. Out of the corner of my eye, I could tell my pillow was there, out of the other the ceiling fan, motionless and silent. But in the center of my vision was the screen, tall and peering down at me with that blank stare. I blinked. I rubbed my eyes. Still there. I closed them again. I’m still dreaming I thought. I’m lucid dreaming. I pinched myself and opened again. Still there. I wrenched my eyelids together. I’m having an aneurysm. I’ve become an epileptic over night and this is my first attack. Should I call 911? What was my emergency? “I’ve fallen asleep only to wake up to have a giant block of white light in front me and I can get up?” That sounds insane, but I must be insane to be seeing this in front of me. But then if I can reason that I am insane, then am I really?
I opened my left eye, half a screen, and closed it again. I opened the right eye, the right half of a screen and now a dot. I opened both eyes now and there were three red dots, blinking a few times a second. To my relief, the dots disappeared as soon as they came. Well, I don’t think it will get much worse than th… A flash of red letters began to blink in front of me and I had my answer. I was crazy, I’d have to be to see this shit in front of me. Only a maniac with not enough sleep, an empty shell of a job, and too much time would see these words blinking in front of me right now. Only a man without a purpose and a calling would see the words, “Error. Source file corrupted. Do you wish to reinstall?”
Blinking was just not gonna work. These letters were not going to leave me be. It had been half an hour now and I was still in bed. I tried to get up, but could only get around my apartment by feeling my way through. My outstretched hands were sliding along the bed and I managed to stumble into the bathroom after tripping on my crumpled jeans on the carpet. I felt for the mirror and took a peek. Still there, the red question blinking back at me. Source file? Is that what I am? A simple program constructed by higher dimensional beings simulating the human race? Sure, why not? It wasn’t as if I was doing anything important today. So let’s play this out. I reached out and tapped the screen, but all I could feel was the glass on the mirror. No way to interact with it physically I guess. How about thinking? I conjured the image a of the black arrow on my laptop. Nothing popped up. Not even a pop up.
How was I supposed to respond? Did the screen even want an answer? It had to want something, or else it wouldn’t have manifested. Maybe they want something. Maybe it’s a test. I loosened my jaw and said, “Reinstall!” Nothing. “Click!” Nothing still. “Double-click!” It didn’t respond to physical interactions, nor verbal, nor mental. I can’t just go about my day with this thing obstructing my view. I’d crash on the freeway. I’d miss a step on the stairs and break my neck. Wouldn’t that be a fitting end…or would it? Didn’t those monks think the end was the beginning or something, wasn’t that how reincarnation worked? But I couldn’t really be thinking this could I? That was just crazy, but so was this, so was staring at that flashing red question over and over. And it was then that I realized the truth, this was not going to go away. This was my life now. I would forever stare at this query, and it would forever demand an answer. That string of words would peer down at me until I gave in. It wouldn’t end until I made it end. And that’s when my fingers slid toward the knob, pulled out the wooden drawer, and brushed across my razor. Maybe it was as simple as that, maybe I just had to turn it off and on again.
