by Richard Meyers

Terence spends seven hours that morning and afternoon talking to India and South Africa and Kenya on the telephone. All the voices of the technical assistants who futilely attempt to solve his computer problem belong to East Indians in Delhi, Bombay, Bangalore, Durban, Mombasa and Nairobi. The global Internet technicians who preface every instruction with "You do one thing" fail to fix anything.

Terence is surprised to see the sun setting when he quits after hearing, "it's a systems problem."

In the front room of their house Gladys is preparing a surprise of her own: his things from the last year are sitting near the front door. Arms crossed, lips and eyebrows quivering with anger, she says that she no longer wants to live with a computer obsessive.

"My e-mails, Gladys, all of them are inside."

And so are you, she tells Terence. "And take that damn computer with you."

He has to; it stores all of his writings for the last six years. He disconnects the wires and cradling the monitor, tower and mice as if they were their children, he pleads for her to reconsider, saying, "It's a systems problem."

She wants no more explanations and tells him that she calculates that the time he has spent on the computer versus the time they have spent together equals seven to one.

Terence remembers never really wanting to get involved with computers, but once he creates his files of essays and diary, he is hooked. Gladys and Terence he recalls got together around the time of his first virus, a worm called "mybummer."

Terence packs up the car and begins driving east. The Microsoft Windows XP rattles and sparkles beside him in the passenger seat. Ten miles east of Terra Haute, Indiana he decides to unhook the safety belt and put the computer in the trunk. Later in Ohio he returns the PC to the front seat after noticing a flaw in the trunk lock. From that point on he doesn't trust it to be left alone in the car and carries it with him.

Near the Holland Tunnel he stops to call Gladys, but she hangs up.

"I'll send you pictures. Don't forget me," he says.

The pictures arrive. The computer in his arms on the Brooklyn Bridge; the computer at the top of the Empire State Building; the computer in Central Park.

His friendly landlord, Dulal Patel, takes a picture of his tenant and computer. Afterwards, Mr. Patel tells Terence in confidence, "The computer is failing. Do one thing. Let it go. It's not your fault. It's a systems problem."

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Richard Meyers was active in the Berkeley, California civil rights and free speech movements of the early sixties. He went to India to serve in the Peace Corps for two years after which he continued in India, Central and Southeast Asia for another four years working as a teacher of English. Later in Europe and the United States he helped develop Alternative and Co-Operative communities. His short stories have been published in Moondance: Song and Story, ken*again, Web del Sol, InPosse Review, Spinnings, and SFSalvo. He has published two volumes of his collected poetry, The Journey's Loom and Striptease of the Soul for Gondarva Press. His other works include the novels The Journey That Never Was Made, Alms For Oblivion, Under Indian Skies and A Maze for Infidels. Prolific in all genres, his short stories, essays and plays include Rivers of Babylon , Dark Rituals and Last Train to Simla. His poetry appears in numerous journals and anthologies. Currently he teaches English at City College of San Francisco.