Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

It used to be all bits and bytes. The biter bit ‘em. Kilo and mega ruled the stage But giga clipped their wings And gathered feathers into fluffy pillows Slowing the data stream to sleep And stirring the biter’s rage. Now watts and hours forgotten Socks have spun their fabric in a World Wide Web across the dryer of time. Fluff stuffs the pipeline up. It used to be all myths and mine Were eaten by the gathering gloom Chewed up, spat out, rejected Strings gone bad and page reset. Resume. The biter chomps the bits again And smites ‘em.

Blue light beamed from computer screen. Absorbed in her game, Jess ignored her Mom, ignored Dad, ignored siblings too. Blue claws reached from computer screen.

“So the game crashes?” Mystic asks. “No. The world,” says Mystic_5. “What, like my keyboard shoots out sparks.” Mystic’s keyboard being state-of-the-art, not even spilled coffee can harm it. “No,” says Mystic_5. “Think matter and anti-matter. If identical meet…” “Boom.” End of the universe, just like Mom and Dad’s books.

Mystic’s her screen name—Mystic_25734 to be precise, but who’s counting. Mystic’s parents wish she’d spend less time on the computer. Mystic wishes they’d spend less time reading end-of-the-universe novels. And Mystic’s screen-companion, Mystic_5, just wants to play. Parallel universes are very enticing when your own one’s driving you mad.

“The problem with too much explanation is too little sticks.” Mystic’s hooked on Parallel , but could learn more of the rules. Pretty soon Mystic_25734 will meet Mystic_5, a bot who knows it all. And while “Like calls to like,” “Identicals must never meet.” So what happened to Mystics_1 through 4?

Eric leaned back triumphantly in his chair. The computer screen scrolled intricate words while speakers played their musical parade. “I won,” he exclaimed. “Good job,” said Mom who’d just won her own private battle with the washing machine. “Good job,” said Dad who’d helped his boss win a contract and saved his job. They used to complain at computer games, saying Eric’s eyes were glued to the screen and it had to be bad for him. Eric missed the old days. But now he was packed and heading back to college. His Mom and Dad missed the old days too.

“ ‘Your world is as big as you make it.’* ” Ginny slammed down her homework by the computer. “How the *** do I write about that?” “Speak nicely Ginny,” said her mother. “Yeah Mom. Sure.” Ginny flounced onto her chair. “Sit nicely.” “Sure.” She bit her apple, spitting out seeds. “Eat nicely.” Sure. Then Ginny started to type. Her mind found its groove, the essay growing swiftly under her hands, and fingers shrank. “Ginny, where are you?” “Here Mom,” she replied from inside the computer screen. “I’m in my own world now; it’s as big as I make it.” (* quote from Georgia Douglas Johnson (1866-1966) )