I survived fluctuating Internet access

It would be all over if there were an Apocalypse, the Internet went down, and the Internet couldn’t be fixed. Fending off marauders, yes, a problem. Scarcity of food and other supplies, yes, a problem. But no Internet? That would be the end.

The Internet isn’t a do-it-yourself project. As is true of much other super-complicated stuff produced by division of labor and capital accumulation over many years, to make an Internet requires the prolonged labors of countless cooperating intelligences, some of them especially smart and visionary. All by yourself plus online instructions you can make rudimentary detergent, rudimentary mattresses, rudimentary stoves, rudimentary swords, rudimentary washing machines and much rudimentary else. But you can’t whip up even a rudimentary Internet. The Internet is one of the culminating achievements of thousands of years of civilization.

To be even briefly semi-cutoff from the Internet requires courage and fortitude, including intrepid techniques for suppressing panic. My work depends upon access to cyberspace. I receive assignments online or by email. Doing the work often requires web-enabled research. I submit the assignments by email or through a web site. The Important Feedback comes by email or through a web site. The payment for my work electronically flies to my bank, or first to PayPal or Payoneer and then to my bank.

Life before email and the Internet was not good. It required frequent trudging into offices. You had to get up at a certain time every morning. You had to commute. The people you had to deal with in the offices were of mixed quality. There were other horrors…. As for freelancing, it was a lumbering and apparently nonviable alternative. Editors felt obliged to hold onto manuscripts for weeks and months before rejecting them. Acceptances were occasional but bills were frequent.

The problem with my Internet access was solved by the Xfinity technician, who deployed gnostic knowledge, magic glitch-detecting tools, and Herculean pole-ascending ability to find and replace a fried cable connection. He did all the work. But I’m the one who escaped death on the battlefield, where it was me versus the vicious onslaught of intermittent Internet access.

I can surf the web uninterruptedly again. I made it. I survived. I triumphed. My part in all this was very important. Did I not call customer service? Did I speak to the customer service representative, explaining which lights on the modem were solid or blinking and so forth? Did I not make the appointment for the service call? Did I not, despite all doubts and wishful thinking, refrain from canceling the appointment? Did I not wait for the technician to arrive? Did I not do my best to pretend to be helpful after the technician arrived?