Fiction - Seven Days Lost in the Void

© January 24, 2012

It felt like waking up on the edge of the earth. Something existed on the edge that I had been missing but had somehow managed to live without for the last thirty-two years. Of course, with there being no “six a.m. wake-up” app from my smart phone the day was half gone by the time I did get out of bed, but between those first moments of shock and panic dwelled something mysterious and peaceful.

The week started as usual with the kids fighting over God-knows-what and Jesse, the Saint Bernard, swiping bacon off Daniel’s plate when he wasn’t looking. I had a rule about no technology before breakfast so the fact that it was already one p.m. didn’t matter. I just assumed I had forgot to charge my phone the night before. It wasn’t until we arrived at church we realized something was wrong. There was no one there except Pastor Rob.

“Where is everyone?” Daniel asked.

“Gone home. Service ended three hours ago. The worldwide lock out really has you in a bad place doesn’t it?”

“My wife has this crazy rule about no tech –. Worldwide what?”

“That’s what they’re calling it. No one knows why but for some reason most of technology ceased to function as of twelve a.m. this morning. Don’t you watch the news?”

Daniel narrowed his eyes at me. I pretended not to notice. No technology means no technology. If it’s not required to make breakfast it’s off limits.

“No!” Our twelve-year-old daughter, Abby, fell to her knees hyperventilating. “Oh my God. No Facebook. Oh my God. Oh my God. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.”

I rolled my eyes and looked over to her younger brother, Nathan, whose eyes had glassed over. His lower jaw was hanging down to his chest and I could have sworn there was a little drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. Lord have mercy. If my husband was as lost as my children we were all doomed. I looked around but Daniel had disappeared. I heard the sounds of someone vomiting and spotted him bent over behind the car, his head between his knees. I marched over, hands on my hips.

“What the heck is wrong with you?” I demanded.

“There’s no internet.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Don’t you understand?” He grabbed my arms and shook me. “No internet means no PS3. No live streaming from NetFlix. It’s the end of the world!”

“Enough!” I slapped him on the back of the head. He blinked and refocused.

“Thanks babe. I needed that.”

Satisfied Daniel was sane, for the moment, I went back to slap my children on their heads. “The three of you are going to get in the car and we are going to go home to a technology-free environment and be happy about it!”

“Yeah,” said Daniel. “Just because we’re descending into the dark ages doesn’t mean we have to be miserable.”

I shot him a look and he jumped into the driver’s seat and revved the engine.

Three days later, not much had changed. We were still living in a technology-free environment and no one was happy about it. The kids were bickering non-stop, Daniel had become distant and I’d had a migraine since Tuesday morning. Board games had become boring and we’d had so much “family time” that we were way past the sharing point. It was hard for me to admit but without technology we weren’t a family. We were just four people who happened to share the same living space.

I looked into the den where Daniel was reclining in his La-Z-Boy, channel surfing through the six local channels we were left with. Nathan was sprawled on the sofa, tossing cheese balls into the air, trying to catch them in his mouth. Most of them were falling between the couch cushions. I found Abby at the kitchen table with an old lock box I recognized as my mother’s. It was the only thing I still had that belonged to her. It contained important stuff, like the deed to the house, as well as a few mementos: a wedding photo of mom and dad, locks of hair from the kids’ first haircuts, pictures from their younger days and the Robinson family recipe for chocolate banana cookies.

I poured a cup of coffee and sat beside Abby. “You look sad.”

“I was just thinking about how Grandma and Grandpa survived without technology. It must have been pretty hard.”

“Probably no harder than life would have been with it.” I took a sip of coffee as Abby gave me her you’re-an-adult-and-you-don’t-know-anything look. “Well, think about it. Is your life easy?” She opened her mouth and shut it again. Taking that as a no I went on. “Think about what life has been like these past four days.”

“Boring.”

“Well, yes, but has it really been hard?”

“No, but technology makes you smarter.”

“Okay, then. What’s one hundred eighty-nine divided by nine?”

She reached for her phone then remembered it didn’t work. “No one can answer that without a calculator.”

“Twenty-one. It’s not that you can’t live without technology. It’s just that you’ve become so used to it being there that you think you can’t. Do you remember your first day of kindergarten?” She shook her head. “Boy, I do. You caused such a scene. Kicking and screaming. You were so afraid that I wasn’t coming back for you. The first couple of weeks, Mr. Bromsturm would distract you with the building blocks while I would sneak quietly out the door. After that you couldn’t wait to see Mr. Bromsturm and I actually got jealous.” I chuckled remembering those days. “My point is, things change. Sometimes we don’t think we can live with those changes but we find a way to adapt and after a while we can’t imagine life any other way.”

She didn’t reply and I could tell she was mulling it over. I stared out the kitchen window. Jesse was in the backyard with his nose to the ground. Every now and then he would jump and put his nose to a different spot. Probably torturing a cricket. It was that puppy innocence that made me realize something. I tapped Abby on the arm. “Follow me.”

Entering the den, I snatched the remote from Daniel and clicked off the TV. At the same time I caught a cheese ball in midair. Everyone stared at me, wondering what wrath I was going to unleash this time. I simply said, “There’s a world out there and we’re going to go see it. So pack your bags because we are leaving tomorrow.” No one moved. They just continued to stare at me. I was glad they hadn’t complained but the silence was a little unnerving. “What?”

“Where are we going?” asked Nathan.

“Well.” Daniel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We always wanted to take you kids to the coast. Now’s as good a time as any.”

It took about a day to get there, but several Mighty Kids Meals and bathroom breaks later we arrived at the coast of Maine. Almost instantly, a humpback whale broke the surface of the Atlantic. We had arrived at the edge of the earth and it was breathtaking. We finished out the week visiting every beach we could find and hiking the cliffs along Maine’s southern coast. We vacationed like we never had before; with no cell phones, no GPS, and no calls back to the office. The children actually went more than twenty-four hours without screaming at one another and there was more love making between Daniel and I than there had been on our honeymoon. Before we knew it, it was Sunday again. This time the “six a.m. wake-up” app was working just fine. Well, it would have been, if I had turned on my phone.