Librarian

The world was under intense pressure. The uncivilized race to obtain absolutely nothing. Everyone racing to their own aid. No hands on deck, just on anything that was attached to a screen. The evil underworld dwellers had made their way to the surface. They had finally found a way to distance families from each other. The teachings of a father slowly converting to Google. No trust in the way it used to be. Family traditions? What are those? The advertisements alone had flipped the percentages of good and bad. It was hard to find anyone who would lend a hand.

The normal crooks who would steal a wallet or two, were turning into computer hackers and becoming villains, stealing everything a person worked for their entire life with one swipe of the mouse and a click of a button. The children who used to annoy the crap out of their parents with the ball and glove, were no longer around. The sound of children's voices laughing while running through the sprinklers was becoming eerily silent. It was like the entire planet was grounded. At first there was a steady race to slow down the inconceivable truth that this technological mold would engulf the human race. Parents, teachers, librarians, doctors, anyone listening to children tell them what they know based off of popular sites were trying to stop them from self medicating and dying. It was becoming a blatantly obvious situation that of course would be monitored and dealt with, correct? Negative. In fact it started to trend in the opposite direction. The parents too busy surfing the Web for the one or two kids left holding gloves begging to play catch, teachers finding ways to filter knowledge to children using the Web disregarding the common need for personal interaction, doctors entering the examination room, face glued to the screen of a laptop like a two year old who fell asleep in their mash potatoes sitting in their high chair, were using the Web to diagnose and treat illnesses.

There was one librarian who wasn't going to stand for the corrupted ways of this new world order. Richard Bolstead. He was an alcoholic and a certifiable lunatic. He somehow new more than most about just every book the old library on Sycamore Street had ever seen. He said from the very beginning that there was nothing smart about a phone that costs that much to use. He was a little upset when the pay phones started to disappear and he had to relinquish his glow up pager and buy a flip phone. He said phones aren't supposed to make you a tool, they are supposed to be a tool that we use to call a taxi when we've had too much to drink down at the local watering hole. When we would talk to him about how the Web would be the new libraries or how we would be able to search for anything we could imagine, he said there's a big spider at the end of that spiraled orb Web. What do you think happens to bugs when they touch a web? The process of getting stuck a little deeper begins, and before too long there is nothing left but a shell of what used to be.

My brother and I started watching closely as the friends we used to ride bikes, have water balloon fights, or just sit outside on the wall and tell jokes with slowly disappeared. All stuck to the Web. We remember following Mr. Bolstead home one day after leaving the Raging Bull Tavern. We knew we could get him to help if everyone else was getting stuck. We went to his home and knocked at the door. After the third knock and thinking he was probably passed out from an all night alcohol binge, we turned around and that's when the door opened and he grabbed us both by the back of the collars and yanked us in the house. He slammed the door shut and spun us around. I know why you're here! You do? Yes, and we will grab this bull by the horns. Mr. Bolstead went in the backroom and told us to stay out in the living room. He came out with the most ridiculous cape on that any person has ever seen with a red t-shirt that had the letters "RB" on the front. Is that for Richard Bolstead?, we asked. No, it's my super hero name!

We weren't sure what a librarian with seriously deep issues as Mr. Bolstead possessed could do, even with his mustard stained shirt and cape, but we had no other option. The world was caught in the Web and were slowly becoming shells of themselves. Something had to be done. What's your plan Mr. Bolstead?, we asked. Call me Raging Bull! Ok, Raging Bull, what's your plan? Get me a computer, and we'll enter the web ourselves and kill the spider within, then all should go back to normal. Neither my brother or myself had one, so we called our friend Kris. Considering the fact that he was stuck, he was surely to answer. Well he didn't. "The spider may have already gotten to him," Raging Bull said. Try calling someone else or run home and get your parents'. Mark and I ran home and luckily our mom was in Facebook jail and was watering the flowers in the backyard. We took her phone and ran back to Raging Bull's house. We got it! OK great! Let's get started.

Before he started, we asked how he knew what he was going to do since he was against these devices in the first place. How was he to know how to even turn them on. He said, everything we need to know has been written in the books on the dusty shelves that remain. He said there's just one thing before I start. Then he took out his flask and took a hefty swig of his magic potion and started in. After about twenty minutes, a few slurred words and droplets of sweat on his brow, Raging Bull was done. He said run back home and wait. It shouldn't be long. Thanks Mr. Bolstead. "It's Raging Bull," he exclaimed! When we got home our mom was still in the backyard watering. We put her phone back where it was without her even knowing it was gone. That was going to be the longest night of our lives. We had no way of knowing what to expect since neither of us had a phone. So that night I pulled up a sleeping bag and pillow and slept in my brother's room. Or shall I say laid in my brother's room? I don't think I even blinked.

The next day at about noon there was a knock at the door. Probably an Amazon delivery I thought to myself. Mom binge shops whenever she let's her mouth get her into trouble. I looked out the peephole and saw our friend Kris. As I started to unlock the door I called for Mark to come see what was up. "What's up Kris?", Mark asked. Kris said, none of the games were working on anyone's phones or laptops. I looked down and saw the old radio flyer with bats, balls, and gloves. Out on the wall across the street sat Eric, Danny, Ernie, and Lalo. We all called each other this morning to see if each other's devices said the same thing, Kris said. What did they say?, Mark asked. No service! All of them?, I asked. All of them, Kris replied. Then everyone on the wall yelled, "All of them!" Mark and I just looked at each other. So, we wanted to know if you guys wanted to come outside to play some ball, Kris said. Just about the same time our mom hollered, "what did you boys do to my my phone?" This thing only makes phone calls now! We both jumped up and started screaming with joy. We told our friends we'd be right out.

We played ball like we were major leaguers. We played for hours. We even got ourselves some snow cones from the ice cream truck when it rolled by. Miguel, the ice cream truck driver asked us where we've all been. Everyone said just laying around. Well it's good to see you outside playing. That's what kids should be doing. Let the old people lay around, he said. Thanks Miguel, we will. See you tomorrow.

It took about a week, but the parks were full of kids again. Everyone was talking to each other. Making eye contact even. Everyone had two hands again which made everything a lot more normal. We went back to Mr. Bolstead's house to tell him what had happened, and to thank him for everything. He said, "this has to be our little secret or I could be in a lot of trouble." We understood and we never told anyone about the super hero that saved the planet from the evil Web. We always get a wink from Mr. Bolstead when we go to the library and even get away with getting a little too loud sometimes, as kids should!

The End