Curing Virus's

By G. E. Shuman

Last Monday night I stayed up past twelve-thirty, trying to comfort and cure the victim of one of the most virulent viruses ever to enter our home. At the time I did realize that you can’t really ‘cure’ a virus, but I was trying my best, anyway, as any compassionate person would do. The patient, without naming names in the newspaper, was really out of it, and there was something quite urgent in the situation, at least it seemed that way to me. There was very little communication from the one who was ill, and what little there was made almost no sense to me. “What in the world did that mean?“ I heard myself whispering after receiving several mixed-messages, as the long evening dragged on. Perhaps a fever was the cause of the random words, but I really had no way to be sure.
I stayed by the side of the dear ill one, nearly the entire evening, and was really at my wits end, in my efforts to help. None of the usual attempts at comfort seemed to work at all. In fact, everything I did actually seemed to make matters worse. I was sure that the bug, or virus, or whatever it was, was contracted through some contact outside of our home, and was, evidently, a fairly serious one. In the end I decided that getting rest might be the best course for both of us to take. So, I quietly slid away, and headed off to bed. I knew that if rest didn’t work, the next step would be a trip to get a true diagnosis, and professional help the next day.
At this point, (or before this point,) you may have guessed that the ‘patient’ I was attempting to nurse back to health is not my wife or one of my children. It is just a lifeless, flat chunk of hinged plastic, filled with a huge, compact assortment of extremely complicated and very expensive electronic parts. It is the laptop computer that those previously-mentioned members of my family use every day. Its poor health was of great concern to them. The possible cost of curing the virus it had contracted was of great concern to me.
Tuesday morning, after my usual routine of jumping briskly out of bed and onto the treadmill for a fast hour‘s run, or maybe just dreaming of doing that as I painfully hauled my tired self out of bed, still asleep, (I’m not sure which,) I went right to my patient’s side. I guess I thought the ‘computer fairy’ might have come in the night and cured the virus, or perhaps the night’s rest might have helped, saving me lots of money and aggravation. Besides, I thought, maybe this had all been just a bad dream, (right before the treadmill nightmare.) But, alas, (What does the word ‘alas’ actually mean, anyway?) when I woke the patient, the same symptoms were still right there, glaring me in the face.
I don’t know how you feel about such times, but I just can’t stand wasting countless hours trying to get expensive, sensitive, stupid devices to work, when they simply don’t feel like doing that. I have little patience for anything that ruins my sleep, and still won’t do its job. I seriously considered using the trash can behind our house to solve the problem. Thankfully, and with gratitude for Lorna‘s quick-thinking, Sandy, the wonderful technical lady at my wife’s place of employment agreed to take a look at the fading patient.
That evening I drove the computer to her. As we, (the computer and I) rode, somberly, silently, to the ’doctor’s office,’ I felt a true sense of relief at being able to hand this problem off to an expert. And, the truth is, I was relieved to just get the thing out of my home. Within a day Sandy had skillfully injected the computer with whatever electronic serum was needed, and had expertly brought the frustrating thing back to full health. I am very thankful for this… at least I think I am.
As the years continue to pass, everything electronic continues to grow increasingly complex, requiring ever-expanding commitments of precious time, money, technical education and care from us mere mortals. (Maybe we are the infected ones.) We rely on help from wonderful people like Sandy, and businesses like The Geek Squad, to cure the ills of those devilish, fragile, frustrating machines. Perhaps it is time that we take a step back, (technologically speaking,) to examine where we have been, and consider where we are going.