a brief aside: charter communications is a conspiracy to keep you poor and stupid

Allow me a brief interlude to tell a story.

Two nights ago, I was working on a paper. It was about 1AM, and I was in my “zone.” Call it a trance, call it being catatonic — call it whatever you want — but I was there. But the Internet was acting up. Now, when it comes to consumer electronics, I am fairly technologically illiterate. If it came into existence after about 2003, I am essentially useless, though I am good at pretending not to be. My most prized possession is a 20-year-old beat machine. I still have trouble with DVD players.

So when my wireless Internet died, I did what I usually do to make it work (plug and unplug the modem). After about an hour, I realized it wasn’t going to work this time. So I called Charter Communications. Charter has an auto-troubleshooting system, whereby the angry caller is talked through the service interruption by a smooth, calming female robo-voice. “Just let me know when you unplug the modem,” coos the fembot. “Just say ‘Done.’”

“Done.”

“OK, great,” replies the program, using state-of-the-art emoting technology. “Don’t worry, pitiful human, our operators will assist you if I can’t solve your problem.”

“Do robots feel love?”

“Sorry, I did not compute your query.”

After about 45 minutes of this, at around 3AM, I finally got referred to an actual human. Which is to say, I was put on hold. “All operators are assisting other customers.” Who calls Charter Fucking Communications at 3AM on a Wednesday morning, anyway? Madmen and lunatics, probably.

I was on hold for fifteen minutes. Within 30 seconds of talking to a human, he told me that Charter Internet was down for the entire state of Georgia. That, plus I could pay a low additional fee and get Charter telephone service. I then did my best Ice Cube impression, yelling “fuck that shit, cuz I ain’t the one” as I hung up the phone.

Not really. But it still brings me to the moral: it is the Year of our Lord 2008. The Internet is an integral, inescapable part of our lives. I pay 53 dollars a month in order to take part in the glorious global cyber-commons of the World Wide Web. Hundreds of thousands of college students are studying for finals. How the fuck does the Internet get switched off in this day and age? And for an entire state? Did the guy cranking the wheel to power the Tubes go out for a smoke break and get trapped in the elevator?

In the U.S., we expect our corporate monoliths to treat us right. Wednesday morning, too wired to sleep and with nowhere to turn, I lost my faith in the dream.

And Jesus wept.