Welcome to the future

The feeling when you realize your internet is out. Or. Rather. That your internet provider is now your internet withholder. The video call that suddenly stalls. And you’re wondering, is it me, or is it them? The quick search, just to see if anything will come up. Are you still connected? The feeling when you see the search results page not loading, the front page of a major news outlet not loading. Then you know—it’s you.

Then, heart beating more quickly, trying to connect to a hotspot from your phone. The bars of the wifi icon blink methodically. But, nothing happens. It doesn’t change into two happy links chained together. It changes back to all bars solid, but that’s to the internet that is a lie, to the one that you are not connected to even though you are supposed to be connected to it. Even though you must be connected to it.

The feeling that you are mute and helpless, in a dream in which you scream and scream but no one hears you. The knowledge that soon this will all be over, in minutes even. But the seconds are long. The refreshing, the watching. Even though the computer is not connected to anything, the feeling of being chained to it, because it’s going to come back at any point. Knowing there’s not enough time to do something else. There is no time for anything.

The immediate rememberance that the things you rely on are out of your control, served to you by nameless entities in a way that you couldn’t even begin to describe. There are … wires? In different places? The wishing that you could forget all of this and just go back to what it was like 30 seconds ago when you were not so unbearably aware of just how little you can do, how small you are, and how tenuous your connection to the world really is via a service that you rely on more than any other.

Welcome to the future.