Times are a changin'

“It’s not fair!” I groan and push the backgammon set off the couch. Thin brown and white tiles clatter across the dusty floor.

“That’s the sixth time you’ve beaten me today!”

I leap off the couch and push past my boyfriend to the quiet of the balcony, breathing in the sweet evening air. I love dusk in Tel Aviv. The sky turns purple and the horizon glows.

But I hate losing. I’m tired; I’m pissed. And I’m really, really bored.

~~~

It’s been nine months since shit went very, very wrong.

One silent, wicked cyber-terrorist attack and the worldwide network crashed, permanently. Modern civilization ended in that second. Bye-bye internet, and everything that comes with it.

At first, people were overjoyed with the situation.

 “Finally, we’re free.”

“It’s like living 100 years ago!”

 “Simplicity, that’s what I’ve been tellin’ you man!” were some of the first reactions I heard in the streets. Drinking, partying, then anarchy. Panic and reality set in quickly, a blizzard of thoughts swirling through the air.

“OUR MONEY!” “HOW WILL I CALL MY PARENTS?!” “HOW WILL I WORK?!” “HOW WIlL WEE DO ANYTHING?” Chaos.

People quickly reverted to an organized tribal lifestyle. Grouping off based on area or shared beliefs, these clusters were exclusive, and you had to express your full commitment. It was ugly at first. I’m glad we laid low in the north with my uncle until the panic subsided. We only came back to the city after we caught wind that things had calmed.

Nothing was functioning as it was before. So that meant if we wanted to get back to the city, we had to travel by foot instead of car or train. We carried backpacks full of supplies and spent days chatting, but mostly in our own heads. I enjoyed the time exploring the countryside and took every chance to stop and admire the flowers, lizards, and hedgehogs I spotted along the way. After a long trek, we finally saw the city on the skyline. Staring at this place so familiar but now foreign, I took a minute to mourn. Tears streamed down my face as I thought of all the things that would be different once we got there.

We didn’t know exactly what it would be, but we knew it would freak us out. The world had changed; we just hadn’t fully processed it yet. It felt very real, though I sometimes tried to convince myself it was a dream, and that I still might wake up.

When we arrived, I was frightened. The city was dark, for one. As dusk, the time I love so much, set in, the city dimmed. Instead of glowing, things slowly got gray, and then black.

People lit fires or candles where they could, but sparingly. Supplies were still precious because people hadn’t gotten used to using less yet. The world was one of excess before, and there was still an adjustment period.

“I’ve never seen the city so dark…” I whispered to my boyfriend.

I felt I had to whisper; the quiet was striking in a city that was once a blur of beeping horns, cheerful shouting, and sirens.

Walking through the city back to our apartment was a wistful trudge. When we arrived, I was happy to see the place. I’d pretty much gotten used to sleeping outside and waking under a ceiling of trees, but I admit, I sleep best in a bed. Our apartment had been ransacked but most of our things were left untouched. We’d taken all the important things with us when we left anyhow.

One of these “tribes” that had split off was said to be using old agricultural techniques in their fields. They were doing well and already seeing the first early crop. In the fertile lands here, why couldn’t we all do the same? The city was just a pit stop before we continued to their settlement, Shoam, to see if we could join the agricultural revolution.

Like I said, we had gone back in time. Our primal instincts had set in, and we focused on only three things – water, shelter, and food. Going to Shoam guaranteed food and a community. Safety in numbers.

So now, we’re counting down the days until we can leave. We came back here to make a game plan and see if there is anything else we want to take with us before we leave this all behind. I hate that we have to leave it behind.

“It’s not fair!” I told my boyfriend when he told me we would probably never come back here.

“It’s not safe here…and there aren’t enough supplies!” he told me forcefully.

I know he’s right. The city can’t support this many people, but most aren’t willing to leave. They’re holding onto the hope that it will all come back. Facebook, Instagram, Tiktok, Netflix. Banking, online shopping, and all the gaming apps. We relied so much on our phones and the internet itself that when it happened, we felt we had nothing left. People clutched their phones, staring at the sky and weeping.

I could give a shit about my phone and all the apps in the world. All I cared about was the fact that my family lived across the world, and how am I ever going to see them? Planes were downed, though there were rumors that pilots were flying manually to get places. Still, a manual flight across the Atlantic sounded insane, and while I still prayed that there would be a way, I had somewhat resigned myself to the fact that it would be a very, very long time until I heard from them.

“There’s always by boat” I mumble to myself.

That’s a worry for a different day. I hope I won’t have to wait too long, especially since time seems to have slowed down. Without social media, interactions are real-time and savored. Everything seems to last longer, and life has lost its urgency.

When we could have everything delivered in minutes, anything at any time, every minute counted! Now, minutes turn into hours, the sun beats overhead, and we wait for what’s next.

For now, I gaze out at the now dark sky, brooding over my loss. The backgammon game; the distance from those I love; the life I knew.

“It’s not fair…” I say to the sky.

And then I notice them. The stars. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen a full sky of stars over this city. I always used to miss the stars, since the city lights drowned them out. But here they are, a blanket of glimmering specks in front of me. A million signs of hope.