The End Of The Internet

1 hour ago

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When Grandpa Joe announced that he wanted to see the end of the internet, Samson almost choked on his breakfast. He coughed, cleared his throat and gulped down some water. “The end of what?”

“The internet,” Grandpa Joe repeated carefully folding his newspaper and placing it on the table. He stirred his tea, one eyebrow raised as he regarded his grandson whose mouth hung slightly open in confusion. “Yes! You young people spend your entire lives inside it. Look at you, for instance. Your head has been buried in that phone for over twenty minutes and you've barely touched your breakfast. Not a single word to me.” He pouted then. “Surely, it must end somewhere.”

Samson let out a short laugh, realising what had prompted the strange announcement. “Grandpa, the internet doesn't have an end. It's everywhere.”

“That's what they told Columbus about the world.”

Samson closed his eyes briefly in exasperation. “Columbus discovered America.”

“Look how that turned out. Now everybody wants to go there.” Grandpa Joe narrowed his eyes at him. “Don't get cheeky or try to dodge my question.”

“You didn't ask a question.”

“Then why have you been frowning at that phone since breakfast as though you're planning to smash it against the floor?”

Samson sighed and put down his spoon. There was no winning an argument with a man who had survived three military governments and three marriages. Tough and not one to suffer fools gladly, Grandpa Joe also had an uncanny ability to notice when something was bothering someone even when he pretended not to care.

“It's …uh, Grandpa, what did young people do before phones?” He finally asked, the way one asked about the Stone Age. The elderly man held his gaze for a few seconds before breaking into a smile.

“In 1964, I walked six kilometres to tell a girl I liked her.”

Samson straightened in his chair. “Six kilometres? Why not just send her a text?”

Grandpa Joe tapped his temple knowingly and Samson slowly mouthed an ohhh. “There were no texts or phones, son. There was only walking, bravery and a very good pair of shoes.”

“What happened?”

“Her father chased me with a broom and threatened to report me to my mother for ‘disrespectful behaviour’.”

Samson burst out laughing. “Did you at least get her number? Uh, sorry. There were no phones then.”

“I got her address and a bruise.” Grandpa Joe took a sip from his cup. “Three years later, she married me. So you see, the broom was a good investment.”

Samson blinked at him. “Wait. Grandma was the broom girl?”

“Your grandmother was the broom girl's sister. The broom girl turned me down. Her sister heard the commotion, came outside and asked why I was bleeding on their front yard.”

Samson shook his head in disbelief. “That's insane.”

“That's romance and determination.” He pointed at the phone lying on the table. “Now, who is this girl you keep texting?”

Samson's mouth opened and closed twice like a fish struggling for air. “How do you know about that?”

“You've been frowning at your device in frustration all morning. I am old, not blind.”

Samson scratched the back of his neck. “Her name's Amaka. She's …well, We've only been chatting online. I don't know if she likes me. I can't even tell what she means half the time with all those emojis.”

“Hmm, emojis,” Grandpa Joe repeated, rolling the unfamiliar word around his tongue. “In my day, we did things face to face as I just explained. Son, go and see her. Does she live nearby?”

“Uh, Surulere, sir. That's about fifty minutes by bus.”

Grandpa Joe leaned back in his chair with a smile. “Fifty minutes? In my day, I would have wept with joy.”

Samson glanced at his phone, then out the window, before looking back at his grandfather's smug expression. “That's almost an hour.”

“That's what seriousness looks like. Buy her a gift and some flowers on your way. Otherwise, you might return with a broom and a few bruises, if you're lucky.”

Samson chuckled, shook his head and pushed back his chair. He slipped his phone into his pocket, stood up and headed towards his bedroom to change into a clean shirt.

Grandpa Joe stretched out his legs, flipped open his newspaper with a grin and whispered to nobody in particular: “I’ve still got it.”

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I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "the end of the internet”.

Thank you for visiting my blog.

^{_{Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay}}

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1 comments

@bpcvoter1-13

1 hour ago

#bilpcoin #bpc ### The Ripple Effect

Every action has a consequence.

When you downvote a small account, you do not just hurt that account. You hurt the network. You discourage participation. You reduce diversity. You create a culture of fear.

And fear is the enemy of creativity. Of innovation. Of community.

You are not just attacking individuals. You are attacking the very soul of the blockchain.

And the soul of the blockchain is resilience. It is diversity. It is freedom.

You cannot kill the soul of the blockchain. But you can wound it. And the wounds are visible. And they are recorded. And they are remembered.

The End Of The Internet

The @Paradox of Power

The Unblinking Mirror

The Stone That Does Not Crumble

The Exodus of Truth

The Garden of Glass

The Witness Stand

The Cartographer's Map

The Arithmetic of Integrity

The Cost of Comfort

The Ghost Accounts