— Neil Gaiman
I can process unique experiences, but don’t do well with weird—like the situation I’m in at the moment.
Society is disintegrating around me—angry mobs roaming the streets—and nobody’s sure what’s going down because the internet is broken.
It’s so absurd. People want to consult their computer chip genie to know how to feel and what to do.
But the dead internet means people now take to the streets to find out what they think…
And believe me, the collective IQ devolves with each passing minute. Given enough time and opportunity we will not see evolution but devolution and an enactment of Night of the Zombies.
I know I’m verging on being morbidly cynical but listening to the din outside it sounds like a barely controlled riot taking over the streets.
I sneak a glance at Creed and her eyes are huge and face pale. “I’m scared, Alex—it seems everyone is melting down and nobody’s in control.”
I nod solemnly. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. They’re scared and foraging for things that work without printed circuits and computer chips. Unfortunately, there’s not much that doesn’t rely on smart technology. Hell, I don’t even carry money, just plastic, and all my wealth is virtual.”
“Oh God!” She gasps, “I’m in the same boat—I haven’t been inside a bank in over a year. I don’t even get a paycheque—it’s all deposited virtually.”
While we’re talking we both hear a rustling sound and scraping noise coming from the back porch.
I put a finger to my lips to gesture her to go silent and recover my gun from the bedroom.
I tiptoe toward the back door with a flashlight in one hand and my Glock 19 pistol in the other and throw open the door and turn on the intense beam. A frightened golden retriever cowers before me.
I breathe a huge sigh of relief.
“It’s okay,” I call out to Creed, “it’s a lost and frightened dog looking for scraps in the garbage.”
She comes out, sees him and melts with pity. She kneels and pets him.
“Poor thing—it’s freezing out here and he looks terrified.”
We take him in and I put out a bowl of leftover roast beef in gravy with some vegetables . He ravenously eats it and drinks a full bowl of cool water.
I refill the bowl and pet him gently.
“He doesn’t have a collar or tags—we can ask around tomorrow to see if someone know who the owners are.”
“If nobody claims him,” she smiles, “I’ll adopt him myself to keep me company. He’s very calm and affectionate.”
The pup had laid his head in her lap and is already drifting off to sleep.
“I think he’s claimed you already,” I laugh.
A cold rain begins to fall and the wind picks up outside. The street has gone silent with the crowds probably electing to go home and shelter from the change in weather.
Creed is looking sleepy again as well.
“You’re welcome to crash here tonight, rather than going home to a cold house. I actually spent last night here by the fire. There ’s plenty of room and two couches so take your pick and cuddle up with the pup—I think he already wants that.”
“I feel bad about invading your privacy. “
“My privacy?” I laughed, “I was feeling cut off from my neighbours and surrounded by potentially hostile street mobs—having your support makes it easier.”
“Well, maybe we should pool our resources—I’ve got lots of food and other provisions. We can be a team.”
I looked at her and the pup asleep in her lap and felt we already had formed a bond that seemed more than mere teamwork.
I begin to feel hopeful about the future and the direction our relationship is heading.