Cunningham Disconnected

1. Auflage 2012
ISBN: 978-1-62309-798-1
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 215 Seiten

Do you sometimes wonder, how you will ever keep pace with today's technology demands? Goods we purchase, services we depend upon, and even connections with our friends, family, and work colleagues have become interwoven with 24/7 connectivity and our addiction grows stronger with each passing day. New innovations require us to rapidly adapt to vocabulary and user experiences that are far from intuitive across every generation. Is civilization leading this torrent of progress, or is it the other way around? DISCONNECTED, is a story of a generation born into connectivity as they journey toward the year 2045. This thought-provoking story and its shocking conclusion may make you think twice about your own dependency.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Cunningham, Jim

Leseproben

CHAPTER 1:
September 2030 Fighting lawmakers, Exseros claim connection addiction is the root cause of obesity and stress related illnesses. Exseros fear they will lose their way of life… The warmest summer ever recorded in Gulf Breeze, and to add misery to the soaring temperatures there was but a paltry breeze coming off the Gulf of Mexico. Rachel, her parents, grandparents, and little brother hadn’t had good sleeping weather all summer. The Gabets lived in a single floor Florida home designed back in the 1950s before air conditioning was standard throughout the south. There was no garage, just an open carport with a cracked uneven concrete driveway split down the center by a row of prickly St Augustine grass and an old rusty Oldsmobile parked under the roof. The house had no carpet; the floor was terrazzo, a cement and marble mixture that remained cool to the touch during the summer but felt more like an iced-over pond during the winter months. Above each door, open transoms allowed what meager breeze existed to cross ventilate the modest home’s kitchen and family room. Rachel’s father installed ceiling fans in the bedrooms hopeful that it would help his family sleep better during the worse nights. Some nights his efforts rescued them but other times, when their small luxury had to be sacrificed to conserve the generator’s biofuel, the heat and humidity combined to create a sleepless perdition. Hoping to fall asleep while the fan blades still turned slowly, Rachel laying spread openly on top of her clammy yellowed white linen sheets -- no skin touching skin -- recalled a year earlier when she was preparing for her first day in eighth grade. Eighth grade was her last year at Gulf Breeze Middle School, and also her last in public school. This year --tomorrow in fact -- she would be home-schooled like all the other Exseros. She began thinking about her many friends, wondering what the ninth grade Pecus would be doing on the Plane, and if any of the other Exseros converted so they could finish high school and get their public school diploma. Many universities were not accepting Exseros because their avatar operating skills were not considered mature enough to complete their online curriculums. These and many other thoughts moved randomly and rapidly through Rachel’s curious mind, until the rhythmic hum of the fan overhead eventually lulled her into a sweltering, not so restful, sleep. A few hours later with no daylight appearing through the small storm windows over her white and blue painted wooden dresser, Rachel woke panicked by the sensation that she couldn’t get any oxygen. Gulping at the air, she imagined this to be the feeling one would have if they were transported to another planet having no atmosphere. In those fleeting seconds, she thought about last year’s science class and all they learned about the mission to Mars. At the time of the mission she’d been too young to appreciate it, but now couldn’t learn enough, just as with all things scientific. Her school’s online instructor said the Astronauts could not survive the thin Martian atmosphere -- made up of mostly carbon dioxide -- without life-sustaining suits and a cramped but sophisticated high-tech base camp. Meanwhile Rachel ached for a life-sustaining suit of her own, as perspiration poured off her forehead and into her nightshirt; clean and dry hours earlier, now it was soaked in perspiration. The house was silent -- nothing at all was moving -- leading Rachel to conclude the noisy generator hadn’t made it through the night. Soon, her young brother Toby would wake and begin crying out for his father to fix the fan. Rachel knew there was no point in asking; the cost of keeping fuel around had been a challenge ever since she could remember and the hope of solar cells powering the house had still been beyond their financial reach. Rachel’s father did what he could to make their life comfortable, but was never able to provide the sort of conveniences he and Rachel’s mother grew up with in the years before she was born. Rachel sensed his frustration, but he was a proud stubborn man who chose a life and this would be her life too, at least until she was old enough to make some choices of her own. Slipping out of her smothering bed, Rachel picked up the glass of lukewarm water on the nightstand and headed down the hallway toward the family room at the back of the house. There, the house had heavy sliding glass doors that were difficult to open because of their sheer weight and the tightened grip of their swollen wood frames saturated by the night’s humidity. Rachel wiggled them up and down with enough force to sneak through and scamper across the patio to the red tiled steps leading to the back yard. From there she could sit and look up into the balmy moonlit night sky or watch the mosquitoes and other insects scurry about the motionless water in the birdbath at the center of the small yard. It wasn’t any cooler outside, but the night air seemed a relief over the stagnation of her bedroom. In a couple hours her grandmother, the only one that didn’t seem bothered by the heat, would be awake and with enough sunlight infiltrating the kitchen she would make eggs, toast, and tea for everyone. A few nights earlier, Rachel overheard her father talking to her grandpa about the local utilities and the plight of the Exseros. He said the gas company would be the last to shut them off; he said they had the most outdated systems and were unable to give up the revenue for at least five more years. Not being too sure what all that meant, Rachel knew enough to understand they would be able to keep cooking on their gas stove for another five years. What they would do after that, she wasn’t sure. Grandpa, in his low gentle tone, said the municipal water supply was still accessible -- thanks to existing law -- and he didn’t expect that to be taken away for a couple more election cycles. Even so, the Gabets invested what they could spare in a neighborhood cooperative to dig a well and install a pumping station in case the Pecus in the governing majority imposed a conversion deadline. The Gabets were one of a couple dozen families on Mico Sucio, a street aptly named after a tribe of Native American Indians once described by Ponce de Leon as “people without much, yet a happy tribe”. The description suited a neighborhood of Exseros quite well. Everyone dealt with the realities of their lives in their own way; independence and ingenuity were characteristic of their developing sub-culture, and when useful they would turn to each other for utility and community; you could almost say they were 21st century Amish. The families of Mico Sucio Street had banned together for home-schooling, creating a curriculum that rotated from backyards and patios, just as public schools had done decades earlier when they still had personal instruction and students moved from class to class during a seven-period day. Rachel would start school today with Math at the Hayes house. Mr. Hayes taught before leaving for his job as a carpenter. Following Math was a class on Latin, taught by Sylvia Rogers at a table under the shade of a large Live Oak Tree only two houses away. Parents of each family took their turns making sure all twelve children, ages thirteen to seventeen, were given the best education without any help from the Plane. They had challenging assignments and an opportunity to ask questions or get help in any areas where they were struggling. Books were mail-ordered using the Postal Service, now exclusively a freight shipping company and a considerable source of government revenue. The Home School Academy for Exseros had been formed to organize the production and sale of books. It was formed in 2025 when younger families began joining the Exseros in larger numbers. Parents met once every quarter to review the curriculum and make sure it met their needs and taught rigorous problem solving and promoted free and creative thinking. There was always debate, but it was civil and conducted in the interest of teaching the children what they needed to know to be independent and successful. Like all those under fourteen, Toby was required by law to go to public or an accredited private school and learn everything the Pecus were required to learn. Rachel was excited about joining the Mico Sucio students this year, but also envied Toby because he would get to be around Pecus in an air-conditioned learning center with access to the Plane; a world that would now be shut out for her. She also knew she would miss her friend Noah, and was certain he would miss her as well. The two had been close since they met in second grade. Even if she had stayed in public school, ninth grade was online, and she would have only seen Noah’s avatar. Noah lived a few miles away on the other side of the Live Oaks National Forrest. Most of the neighborhoods there were Pecus, including Noah’s family. To see him, or other Pecus friends, Rachel had to ride her rusty rebuilt Schwinn bike along the path that paralleled Highway 98, but it was hard getting anyone to come outside, unless there was a sporting event at the community recreation field… everyone was online. Rachel’s parents preferred she didn’t spend time with the Pecus, but she would have opportunities to see Noah now and again; he would let her get on the Plane and use her avatar from school. To keep the peace, Rachel had to be careful not to slip-up after-the-fact and recall in her excitement anything that might tell her parents she’d been connected. Never having returned to bed, Rachel watched as the sun came up and burned off the night dew. The air was heavy and it looked like her...