It must have been something I ate last night; either the filet mignon was from beef grown on GMO grains, or the sauteed mushrooms were not brushed clean properly.
Now, I don’t toss and turn during my sleep, the dawn finds me tucked in place the way I went to bed, like a wrapped candy placed atop a pillow by the cleaning lady of a Las Vegas hotel after NamesCon.
Ever been aware of your very dream? It’s called lucidity.
You are in a dream, knowing that you’re dreaming, almost able to roam around like in a 3D immersive game. Samsung, SONY and Oculus, take notice.
The first sign that I was dreaming came when my Internet connection went off.
Time Warner is very dependable, one time they gave me $25 back for losing access for two hours. Another time, they sent two technicians out on a Saturday evening to fix a downtime, without even me complaining.
Here I am, my modem lights blinking red to yellow to red again. I check the modem, power cycle it, wait some more.
Nothing.
Having no Internet means one thing: no way to stream The Walking Dead on Netflix. After dissing the show for a while, I actually listened to Tia Wood and watched Season 1 all the way to the Season 4 finale.
What is going on, I pondered, when a knock at the door sent my two rottweilers barking by the entrance. I checked through the peephole, wondering if it was my Amazon Prime delivery on a Sunday.
It was the Time Warner guy, dressed in his blue overalls. After securing the dogs, I opened the door just enough to catch a better look of this unexpected Sunday visit.
“Hello Mr. Fabrice, I am here to give you our official corporate notice that the Internet is now a utility, regulated by the US Government. If you want to continue using our services, please sign here, here, initial here and sign at the bottom. Thank you very much!”
I had no choice but to do as he said.
After all, Google fiber won’t be available in Orlando until 2034, and until then I have to rely on the monopolies that the FCC has created by approving the so-called “Internet Neutrality” bill.
I sighed, and took the receipt the tech gave me.
“Have a great Sunday!” said the guy, and as I closed my door, I could hear my mailbox updates chirping away.
The Internet was back.
I looked at the receipt and pinned it on my cork board, as a reminder of a choice I did not have, and a service I could not live without; headed to the bathroom, when I noticed my reflection in the mirror was void of a spine.
That’s when I knew it was just a dream, albeit a very badly executed one. After all, the Internet is not really a utility.
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