FLASH FICTION
Since the Internet Died
We’re adapting. It’s what we do.
Yep, it’s over. And nobody — at least nobody I know — saw it coming.
But here we are. NO internet. None.
Taken out, word is, by terrorists. But is the plot actually thicker? Is this some Universal auto-correct? The pendulum finally swings way, way back?
Meanwhile, it suddenly comes down to this. It comes down to us. To being. Here. Now.
To what’s right in front of us. Concrete stuff. The basics. Even more basic than what the pandemic brought us.
Do we have phone numbers for people and entities most essential to us? How do we get whatever we need?
And there’s all this newly available time for contemplating what it all means. Like it or not. Everybody’s feeling very reflective.
Basic phone services are working now, at least in this urban center. And we’re resourceful. We figure stuff out. We make do. We make plans. We meet up, sip this, nibble that, scratch our heads in shared awe.
And we reminisce. We laugh. I haven’t personally heard — or done — a lot of crying.
Because this is what we humans do. We adapt. In fact, I guess it’s our superpower.
