The Awakening

The wind shrieked like a pack of hyenas circling their prey. Don looked out the patio door to see an army of white snowflake demons attacking the house. The worst winter snowstorm in a dozen years, they said. They didn’t call it a “blizzard” so people wouldn’t panic, but a blizzard was exactly what it was. God help anyone unlucky enough to be out there. 

He flipped the light switch; nothing. He looked at his phone; no cell service or internet. “Great,” he groaned. He had no idea when any of it would be restored, but with this ferocious storm raging, probably no time soon. 

It was dark–so dark he couldn’t estimate the time of day, and only his wristwatch told him the truth.  5:32 pm. It was going to be a long night. 

He lit a few candles to brighten the living room. Good thing he thought ahead to buy them yesterday, he commended himself.

With everything down, what’s there to do tonight? 

He looked at the bookcase, filled with books he had never read, or read so long ago he couldn’t remember. He had never been much of a reader, and with the internet’s endless buffet of gaming and videos, who needed to read anyway.

Why not? Read or go to bed early, and he wasn’t ready for that.

He walked to the bookcase, closed his eyes, and picked out a random book. He flopped down on the couch and moved the candle on the coffee table closer to provide more light. The flame flickered, dim, but just enough. He opened the book to the first chapter and read: 

“It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.”

“Whoa! What is this?” He looked at the front cover and remembered. It was a book he was supposed to read in high school, but he never finished because it seemed so long and boring. Like most of the other students, he paid one of the class book-nerds $25 to write the book report for him. 

He flipped back to where he left off, and was quickly immersed in the dystopian world of 1984. A strangely prophetic and terrifying time that never actually happened, but in some ways seemed real and relevant for today. 

Big Brother, newspeak, doublethink, rewriting history, subversion of reality, technological control, surveillance, totalitarianism. Things he had heard about, but never knew the source. Until now. A book published in 1949, as fascinating as it was disturbing.

He finished the book hours later, as the pink glow of dawn peaked through the glass patio door. The blizzard had passed with the hours of night. Don wasn’t the least bit tired. He felt wide-awake, alive, invigorated in a way that social media or games never made him feel.

He flipped the switch, and the light came on. A glance at his phone showed that cell service and internet were restored. He shut off his phone. He had no interest in going online right now.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday. He made some instant coffee and toasted some pop-tarts.

After breakfast, Don put 1984 back in the bookcase. He closed his eyes, brushed his fingers over the spines, and picked out another book at random. He couldn’t help but look at the title this time.

“The Tale of Despereaux.” Cool. He was ready for adventure wherever it might lead. Book in hand, he plopped back down on the couch, pulled the afghan over his shoulders, and entered another world.