DIGITAL PRAYERS FROM THE PAST by Stephen Gearhart

DIGITAL PRAYERS FROM THE PAST

by Stephen Gearhart

    Sipping at his tea, he leaned out the window and did a visual check of the solar panel array below. He had already checked the cabling snaking up the side of the ramshackle tower this morning. According to the readout on the transformer next to the panels, he had more than enough to flick the switch and power up the building to start the day's work.

    He took another sip of tea, the mint was from his own garden. He had traded an Asimov book, The Caves of Steel, for the ginger and honey that completed the tea. He wasn't worried; he had multiple copies of the book. In a very real way, he was the richest man around. He had luxury goods to trade away for the essentials.

    He set the tea down and undid the padlock to the metal cabinet. No matter how much he oiled it, the hinges still screeched. With two hands, he grasped the large breaker handle and pulled down hard. There was a loud chunk sound, a flickering of lights and the hum of power as little by little, the top floor of the tower powered up.

    He sat down and looked to his right to watch the old read-out. The red bar inched across until it was at the 80% point and turned green. He watched for power spikes. The meter held at 80%; it was safe to turn the station on. He flicked another switch and the power shot up to the multiple antennae on the roof. Once powered, he sent a pulse out and was satisfied to see he could broadcast on radio and use the radio waves as a carrier for those communities that might still have a functional television or two.

    What was most important was that WiFi signals were strong enough to get to the chain of routers he set up. One chain ended in the community of Roanoke, the other ended in Baltimore. Both node operators worked their own tech to get the signals out. Still, work parties had to check on the router chains monthly. The work was serious business.

    Since the Tarda Collapse fifty years ago, this was the first time that remote communities could communicate with each other. It was an important first step to get back to a world none of them had lived in.

    He looked out the window, saw in the distance the quiet ruins of Washington DC. He had heard rumors that a new settlement was taking place near the giant obelisk. But if they had a radio, or the rare television, he did not know about it yet. 

    What was even more rare was the online connections. As far as he knew, his counterparts in Roanoke and Baltimore were the only ones so far. They met weekly online (he often wondered about that intangible world) for a sharing of information from the past. Their meetings were listened to on the makeshift radios that almost anyone could make. Communities would gather around the rare television sets at the appointed time. While the primary goal in the other broadcasts was to help this generation use technology for the use of survival and moving forward...this particular weekly broadcast provided something else just as important: how to cope with boredom by using fifty years old entertainment.

    Even after fifty years, the technology was still around. Books, uncommon items anywhere, could still be found to help guide them. And it was that particular paper treasure that saved those who survived the Collapse. Fifty years ago, the economy sputtered to a halt. There were two plagues, one right after the other. The governments weren't able to maintain the infrastructure.  

    And everything just slowed down and stopped. It took fifty years to bring the people back to where they were now.

    He sipped his tea and ruminated on how his grandfather, a man he never got to meet, and that man's friends were able to save the knowledge and just enough working technology to help the survivors of the Collapse to live in a world devoid of most comforts. When he read about how dependent those people were on technology to do the simplest things...he wondered if bringing all of that back was a good idea. 

    His computer rig finally powered on. He adjusted the microphone, put on his headphones (he made very good ones in his spare time) and saw the green light on the small camera blink on. He heard the dings that informed him that his compatriots from the two nodes were ready as well.

    They flickered into view. The one in Baltimore forgetting to turn his microphone on as always. Once he pressed the right button, they started talking. They still had thirty minutes before broadcasting so they caught up with each other. Finally, he picked up the special box from the floor and showed the DVD's inside. From Roanoke and Baltimore, he could hear their excitement and cheerful demands to know what they were this week.

    Right before he flipped to the general broadcast that radiated out for hundreds of miles, he briefly looked out the window towards the off-white obelisk. Was there a settlement out there? If they had a radio, they would certainly find this station. What if they were able to maintain a television? Would they also reach out and expand the communication lines a little further?

    He picked up the first DVD. He had already checked it for damage and he was pleasantly surprised to see the disc in good condition. It had the picture of a giant robot on the box cover. The lettering was in English and also in what he thought was probably Japanese. 

    Mobile Suit Gundam.