“Damn computers anyway!” Alice Ann took a hasty look around the room before she remembered that in the dorm, ‘damn’ was an adjective, not an expletive. All she’d meant to do was type her name and suddenly the screen went black. She smacked the mouse in frustration and, surprisingly, the screen cleared.
Why? Why had her brother insisted that she must have a computer to survive in college. He’d practically forced his old LCIII on her. There had been enough miserable adjustments in the last couple of weeks without having to change her whole way of thinking. Oh, for her beloved word processor under the bed back home. This thing swallowed her desk as well as her thoughts.
Though how could anyone even have thoughts in a dorm with three rowdy roommates who seemed to have no need for sleep or study. One of them had spent the evening hunched over her guitar while the other two simply drank coffee and giggled. Probably about her. It seemed obvious to her that they had already pegged her as Little Miss Midnight Oil. Well, why not. She had assumed, naively it seemed, that studying was the thing to do while in college.
A loud but tuneless singing accompanied the guitar.
“Don’t you feel it in your bones when the change winds blow
Don’t you feel it in your bones when the change winds blow
Lord you feel it in your bo-o-ones when the change winds
blow….
You don’t hang o-on … lose your very soul …”Alice Ann was fast losing her sanity, never mind her soul. Her first assignment for Intro to Philosophy and she was as empty as the screen. ‘Review the way in which your past experiences have shaped your philosophy for the future.’ She had no philosophy for the future. It was hard enough to hang onto the present. And that infernal strumming just kept drumming through her head.
“Don’t you feel it in your bo-o-ones …”
Alice Ann found what others have found before her. It’s impossible to write with your fingers stuck in your ears.
“Hey Alice, have some java.” The least offensive of the roommates set a mug down beside her. The coffee was awful, but Alice didn’t like to refuse. And maybe it would keep her awake long enough to work this philosophy thing out.
‘Name’ she said aloud, clutching her thoughts above the noise. So far, so good. Even I know that one. Name: ‘Alice Ann Treves’. She was just settling her fingers down to type when suddenly the computer made horrible scrunching sounds and the screen began to come apart. Electronic wriggles crawled in and out of a black hole in the middle of the page.
“Something’s wrong with this computer!” she cried, leaping out of her chair. “I think it’s one of those virus things! What do I do now?”
There was a gust of laughter from the other side of the room. “Here,” said one of the girls, coming over to give the mouse a twitch as the other poured Alice a little more coffee. “Virus all gone. Eat, drink and be hairy!” They moved away giggling something about lost weekends and life after dark.
Alice sat down shaken. Gingerly, she reached for the mouse and stopped short. What if it happened again? What if she broke the stupid thing? What if she failed Philosophy 101? What was she doing here anyway? She took out her mother’s last letter and reread the painful bits.
“You will be surprised when you read this, but Alice, please try to be happy for us. Now that you are in college, your father and I have decided to get back together. I know it’s been a long time, but …”
A long time? Ten years and counting with little more than a Christmas card. And he wasn’t her father. Not anymore. It was her stepfather who had helped her with math, coached her in tennis, driven her to her first dance. Even a year after the divorce she was still very much a ‘Treves’. How could Mother …
“Naturally, you may be a little upset at first. There are bound to be changes. Just give your father a few months to prove himself. Say ’til Christmas. We’re kind of stuck with him, you know. As he says, he’s the best hope we’ve got to make it as a family. And we can be a family again. Trust me. I feel it in my bones.”
Lord, you feel it in your bo-o-ones when the change winds blow
You don’t hang o-on. Lose your very soul …
Feeling rather spongy herself, Alice put the letter down and had a couple more swigs of bitter coffee. She gazed thoughtfully at the screen. It was full of fish. Very pretty fish. They were swimming round and round inside the monitor. Her head was beginning to swim as well.The fish seemed to keep time with her pulse. Alice wondered idly if they got enough to eat in there.
“Alice Dear, I won’t be able to get up next week after all. We need to make some changes around here. Sweep things clean as it were. But we, your Dad and I, would love to have you home for the weekend.We could meet you at the station. It’s not that far and …”
The music swelled, sweeping her away.
Well, I went home some time ago
The way was short, the going slow
And nothing, nothing left, I used to know
Nothing left as it was before … Returned to that familiar place
To find a mask on every face
And learned, learned even yesterday
Was only masks we wore
And don’t you feel it in your bo-o-ones …
“Yes,Treves was a good man. And you two grew very close. But he was a little lacking in, what shall I call it? Vision? Charisma? Your father now – well, he has more than his share of both. So, no more Ms.Treves. Old names for new.”
Alice stared down at the computer. Funny. Even computers had names. She watched the fish trapped deep inside her LCIII. Fractal fish in a cold, dark sea.
The fish gave way to mountains. Alien landscapes swept Alice mindlessly from the warm inner worlds of the past to the cold outer limits of Pluto. She shivered.
You don’t hang o-on …
Her face was wet, but her mouth was dry. She gulped at the rest of the coffee. As the strumming died away, she could hear the girls whispering in the corner. Something unspeakable about cats and lawn mowers.
Lose your very soul …
“It will be just like old times. And by the way, Dad would be so pleased if you took his name back, too. You know, when you were little, you were the apple of his eye. Now that he’s home again he has such exciting plans for the future…”
The future. Something important about the future. Her name.That was it. She was supposed to write her name. Alice crumpled the letter and let it drop. The mountains had disappeared. A small grey cat came bounding across the screen. Maxi? Dear little Maxi. Her father had given him to her for her seventh birthday. How she had clung to that kitten in the bleak days after Dad was gone.
Alice smiled at the lively little cat as he leaped for a butterfly. A grinding noise broke her reverie. Not the guitar. No. NO! A lawnmower came inexorably toward Alice and her kitten. There was nowhere to run. The lawn mower swept on and over the cat and Alice, and together they dissolved into a spray of colors. Alice wept.
One of the girls refilled Alice’s cup as the guitar thrummed up for a final chorus.
Ask what’s my name you ask of me
Don’t know. Don’t know my name.
But it’s not the same. No it’s not the same.
Oh it’s not the same as it used to be.
And, donit you feel it in your bones …The cat was gone, and with it the past. Trembling, Alice choked on a sudden sip of scalding coffee as the screen filled with images. Magnetic cyclones swirled across the page, sucking her into the vacuum. She tried to hold on, but she was swept up in the shifting winds and was now falling deeper and deeper down a multicolored tunnel.
Thunder. Lightning. Everything became liquid and began to dissolve. Alice was sliding faster and faster. A teardrop in a typhoon. A raindrop in the wind. Swirling down, down, down toward the center of the drain. Toward the center of her brain …
She stretched out her hands to stop the fall and grasped the edge of the keyboard. Abruptly, the spinning stopped. The winds died. She almost fell from her chair in the silence. The music closed in, muted but insistent.
Ask what’s my name, you ask of me…
Her name. She had to find her name.
Don’t know. Don’t know my name …
Well, of course she knew her name. Everyone knows their name.
But it’s not the same …
Ellis. Ellis Treves.
No it’s not the same …
Not Ellis. Ellen?
Oh it’s not the same as it used to be …
No, not Ellen. Elsie!
Very carefully, Alice began to type
NAME: ‘El Cie Three’
And don’t you feel it in your bones …
APPLE EVE and a CONTEST Too!
Change. How hard it is. And lately, we in the Mac world have been buffeted by more than our share of the change winds, not to mention tsunamis and even the odd earthquake. Like Alice, we wonder. Will my Mac and I weather the storm? Or will we be blown off course like Amiga and Betamax? Will we go out with a bang like Power Computing, or disappear with a whimper like CP/M?
Where to turn? Who to trust? When ‘Dad’ came home to Apple there was both rejoicing and despair. With no hard information from the Home Front, we’ve lived ever since on rumors and hope, blind loyalty and unwavering faith.
Trust me, he said. Give me ninety days, he said.
Hey, even the Republicans asked for a hundred.
As I write tonight on November 9th, it’s been exactly sixty days.
And tonight is Apple Eve.
Tomorrow, November 10th, is the Big Event.
The Apple Event that will, if rumors are right, reshape our future.
Apple Eve. We are like children waiting to see what Santa Steve may bring. By the time these words reach you, some of our questions will have been answered. Please, Steve, let us believe. Let those answers bode well – not just for the few – but for the rest of us too. You need us as much as we need you. Together, the Apple can shine again.
That’s all very well, you say, but what about Alice? Poor Alice. We can’t just leave her there, stuck in some digital rabbit hole, done in by the winds of change. So, let’s get that nonsense off her computer – and that stuff out of her coffee. And, while we are at it, let’s find her some nice new roommates, good Mac sorts of course, to see her through. As for Philosophy 101, well, I’m afraid she’s on her own for the moment.
But change isn’t always for the worst. From ‘Manhole’ to ‘Myst’ to ‘Riven’, Robyn and Rand just get better and better. This is your chance to win, absolutely free, your copy of ‘Riven’. Just e-mail me your best guess of the random nonsense (and very pleasant nonsense it is, too!) on Alice’s LCIII, and the first e-mail with the correct answers will receive “Riven” by snail-mail. The winner, and the correct answers, will appear in next month’s column. Don’t worry, I realize there are a couple of alternate possibilities here and there. Just remember, the LC is no longer on the cutting edge. But, being a Mac, it still gets the job done and has room left for fun.
Susan Howerter (susan@mymac.com)
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