Blue Screen of Death

They called it the Blue Out. One absolutely ordinary Tuesday morning at precisely 9:03 a.m., it just... happened. Nobody knew why. Or how. Nobody knew who to blame. Assuming there even was a person to blame.

The important thing was that every smart device in the world stopped working.

I still remember that flicker of confusion, then panic, watching my phone screen turn bright blue during my morning commute on the subway. I thought it was just me; maybe I downloaded the wrong app or clicked a sketchy link without realizing. Then, I saw the same blue screens all around me, clutched in the panicked, angry grips of my fellow commuters.

No one knew what was going on. No one could call their loved ones. No one could check the news to see if it was happening anywhere else. People went absolutely bananas, starting fistfights in the streets and looting every store from Staten Island to Jersey City. Thinking Armageddon was upon us. Some people just sat down in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at their phones in shock. One guy was grabbing the legs of everyone who ran past him, begging them through his tears to help him find his way home. Part of me feels bad for not slowing down to give the poor sap a hand; the rest of me was too focused on getting back to my apartment alive to really care.

It took three entire days for the government to put out a statement on the news. Even so, they might as well have kept their mouths shut. The talking heads on TV just filled the airwaves with meaningless double-talk. The president spun a far-fetched yarn about Chinese satellites blowing up in outer space. The CEOs of all the major smartphone companies refused to comment on anything.

Within a few weeks, the crazy started to die down a little. The internet still worked, which was a big help. All the stores that survived the looting dug deep into their storerooms, dusting off cases of pay-as-you-go analog phones. Most didn't hold onto their stock for more than a few hours. By the end of the month, other retro devices became commonplace on store shelves: camcorders, instant cameras, Walkie-Talkies, portable radios, etc. Everyone was trying to fill the void of what they'd lost. Still, it wasn't quite the same.

For a while, venturing outside became a strange, awkward challenge. Everywhere you went, there was some Wall Street guy juggling a pocket calendar, a notepad, and a flip-phone; a couple arguing over a map, convinced each other was reading it wrong; a group of teenagers crowded around one person with a laptop, or a store window with TVs on display. The worse I'd ever seen was a woman on the subway, who'd turned half the car into a portable office. Every seat within her reach was stacked halfway to the ceiling with three-ring binders, legal pads, and even a portable fax machine.

The younger generations seemed to struggle the most, often asking their parents, grandparents, and other relatives for help with even the most basic tasks. That was the hardest part, seeing the smug looks on the faces of every Boomer you crossed paths with. Of course, they offered plenty of help if they were asked. The downside was that every ounce of assistance came with a twenty-five-minute lecture about depending too much on technology, and how rough they had it when they were young.

Like a toddler learning how to walk, the world wobbled and stumbled for a few more months before finding a balance. It was rough going, and not without bumps and bruises. By the end of the year, however, things were slowly getting back on track. Not exactly as they were before the Blue Out, but better than the worst days after it. People were being kinder and more sociable again; they realized it was okay to ask for directions if they needed to, and going out of their way to help others around them that were clearly struggling. They reconnected with their peers over new hobbies, which they otherwise might never have tried. Influencers all over the web were gushing over the newest trend of writing out and mailing letters to their loved ones, complete with Polaroids from their new instant cameras.

The technology of Yesteryear merged with new tech over the next few years, developed by the now bankrupt smartphone industries. Samsung created a set of rings that projected a holographic screen between them when worn, replacing paper maps and facilitating writing emails on the go. They also released a bracelet, which projected a watch face and a digital pager with a flick of the wrist.

Apple announced their new iEyes a few weeks later, which was a set of digitally enhanced contacts; in addition to letting the user pick whatever color they wanted for their eyes, the lenses projected a computer screen directly into the optic nerve, eliminating the need for a physical screen completely. Xiaomi went a step even further, creating a variety of implants that blurred the lines between man and machine.

Millions flocked toward these devices, eager to give them a try. These new, cutting-edge pieces of tech revolutionized the way humans interacted with the machines they loved so dearly. But there was more to it than that. With the barriers between people and physical technology all but gone, it allowed them to keep what they had gained in the interim between the Blue Out and now: connection between themselves and other people.

Some say the Blue Out was the worst thing that could've happened to Humanity. I say it helped us find our Humanity once more.