iFucked – Pandora
When it was all over, the thing she regretted most was…hitting the reset button on her iPhone. It felt like the world suddenly stopped and she was floating in outer space, cut off from all communication. Her phone had been acting strange since returning from a trip the night before. Then, in the morning, came the update notice. iOs 8.1 update. “What the hell?” She said to herself, “I already did the earlier total fuck up of an update. This must be the fix.” And with a single press of a button, POOF! All gone.
All her photos from her recent trip to Iceland were lost somewhere in the ether. As were photos from the last 6 months of her life, which was when she did the last back up. Her recent contacts, just made in a country where the language was impossible to recreate, were now officially lost to the ages. And it left her feeling hollow and ashamed that so much of her identity was tied up in a small device that fit in the back pocket of her jeans. But she still despaired at the loss of so much data that was specific and perfectly her. It was as if some dystopian myth of our overdependence on technology had suddenly become reality and she realized she was one of the phone zombies. But she mourned.
She mourned the death of Steve Jobs because when he was alive this kind of shit didn’t happen. Or if something did go wrong, he would force his thousands of Apple minions to stay up all night (hell all weekend!) in order to fix it fast and fix it right. He’s probably rolling over in his grave, she thought to herself staring at the blank phone screen. Or was he cremated? She wondered, recalling some of Jobs’s pseudo-Buddhist tendencies. Hell, he even looked like a monk with that baldhead and black turtleneck. But boy, she sure did miss him.
But wait, what’s this? Suddenly, a message appears: To restore iPhone settings from the iCloud press here. Joy fills her chest. All is not lost. Maybe he’s up there, watching over all of us, she thinks, smiling.