By: Carter Hemion, Humour Editor
10:27 a.m.: Oh fuck. My transcript stopped working two minutes ago and the text is glitched. I feel like I’m seeing Zoom through those drunk goggles they made us wear in seventh grade health class. My boss has been talking for ten minutes straight, but I just cannot deal with Zoom. Did they just say “goodbye!” or “go die!”?
10: 34 a.m.: Neither of us can get out. When their Zoom glitched at the beginning, I started a new meeting, but now I can’t end it. I should have known it was doomed from the start. This is what I get for always scheduling in the mornings. My exit meeting button is gone. My minimize and exit tabs are gone. All that’s left is the chat button, and it’s holding on about as well as my 2% phone battery. This is my absolute worst nightmare.
10:57 a.m.: My boss finally escaped. I’m glad at least one of us returned to the real world, but now I’m just hosting myself. It’s getting lonely. I’m tempted to join my own meeting from my phone just to keep myself company, but I still need it to read Supernatural fanfiction before class. Or, whatever you want to call Dante’s Inferno.
9:03 a.m.: I hardly slept last night. Zoom is still holding me hostage. My laptop is completely useless, and I even tried turning it off and on again, like my computing sciences friend said. I tried messaging myself back and forth in the chat just to feel something, but then that stopped working too. Now I’m trying to have a staring contest with my reflection, but I keep losing. I didn’t really want to go to ENGL 302, but now I’m never joining another meeting.
12:17 p.m.: I’m worried. My laptop was my only friend, and now even it has turned against me. I swear the little light by my camera flickered red a few minutes ago. My keyboard has gotten so hot, but I can’t stop from caressing the letters, hoping it will change. Either this constant blue light is making me irritable or Zoom hexed my laptop. I lean toward the latter, because I think I’m immune to blue light after months of SFU education all day and watching Sex Education all night.
??? a.m.: The time and date are gone from my laptop now. My reflection haunts me, the HD webcam now warped to show bags under my eyes, pale skin, and messy hair. The hot keys keep burning my freezing fingers and the bottom of my laptop hisses when I get too close.
??? p.m.: I haven’t slept in at least three days. I can’t stop trying to close Zoom, even though I know it’s as pointless as that math course I took last year. Did my camera malfunction or is my reflection just disappearing? I had no idea Zoom was this bad. Why didn’t I just use the free version that closes after 40 minutes?
??? p.m.: Tonight, the glow of my laptop hardly bothers me getting ready for bed. I can’t help but stare at it, mesmerized. I think I finally understand what Jay Gatsby was on about with his green light across the water. I definitely don’t believe in the American dream, but I do believe in the glow that tells me Zoom is still here with me.
??? a.m.: It’s sunrise. The busy passerby outside remind me it’s a Monday. I have a class at 8:20 a.m. but I don’t plan on making it. I’ve stopped feeling scared of my digital captor. Something about the little light next to my camera comforts me now. Sometimes when I blink, it blinks back.