Rigged

The last thing I expected on vacation was to have to get used to a new computer. It almost figures that, at 10:15 a.m. on my first official day (weekends don’t count), I booted the writing rig ... and nothing happened.

Strangely, I did not freak out. I called to Ter:”My computer’s dead.”

From the living room: “What?”

“My computer’s dead. I just pushed the button and nothing happened.”

She appeared immediately in my doorway. “Nothing?”

“Nope.” I jabbed the button a couple more times, just to be sure. Still nothing.

“We’ll have to get you a new one,” she declared.

I agreed—but this did not stop us from sitting down at my desk (she in the chair, me on the floor) and staring at the old box for a few minutes as if waiting for it to resurrect itself.

A brand new writing box is unnecessary. A used one suits me fine. I only use it for writing, so no need for fancy software, a ton of memory, or an über-graphics capability. My first one was bought new in 1994. The second one was inherited after an office upgrade. The third and fourth were both bought used from a local place that refurbishes as well as builds new rigs, and supplies the parts if you want to build your own. It’s an odd place, populated by geeks who are awkward with people, especially girls, but the product is usually sound.

As we were going into town anyway, we left a little early and dropped by the shop. It doesn’t take long to pick a new writing computer. All I need is a desktop PC with some version of Windows and MS Office. Box No. 5 is a step up by running Windows 7; its predecessor ran XP, so I’m finally caught up to the twenty-first century. After a brief chat with the kid behind the counter, who ran a test boot to ensure that the box I bought was indeed working, I produced my plastic and set off with my prize.

We run Office 2010 on the big rig, but have neither a backup disk (we downloaded it from the internet) nor the rackinfrackin product code that would have enabled me to burn a copy. I had it once, but at this late date you must be kidding. So, back to the shop, where I’d noticed a copy of Office 2007 for home use under glass. Bought that, and another mouse since the one I had wasn’t USB slot-friendly, then returned home to finish the set up.

Starbucks is not the evil empire, my friends. Micro Soft is. Installation was a breeze, but the Activation Wizard appeared and refused to let me go further without verifying the software. Oh, I could do it later, but be forewarned: after 24 boots, “some features may not be available to you”. I couldn’t believe it (yet I could): my own computer was threatening to foil me if I didn’t comply! $%&%#&*%# Bill Gates!

Ter brought me my phone and wisely left the room. I dialled the 1-800 number and got Siri’s boyfriend, who walked me through the eight-part activation and confirmation sequence. You’d better believe I wrote it all down for future reference! There’s no point in stroking out over it, I know. What really matters is that I’m up and running. I spent the next hour or so configuring my defaults and setting up my files, then shut everything down—including myself—for the night.

I was up, however, at 6:30 this morning. Guess I needed some quiet time to wake up the newbie and see if my default Word settings stuck. (They didn’t.) I’ve reset them and hope they’ll stay around now that I’ve actually written something using the new template. I am also planning to write a completely new story while I get familiar with an unfamiliar system.

Only it’s not unfamiliar at all. Now my writing computer mirrors my work computer and the similarity is so unsettling that I chose to switch up the colours just to remind myself that this computer means fun!