We live in an age of unparalleled technological advancement. Diseases that were once death sentences are cureable now. A person can fight cancer and only miss a few days of work. In former times telephones were rooted to buildings. Now they fit in your ear. In my youth people who walked around talking to themselves were nuts. Now it's more than likely they're just talking on the phone. Computers were confined to air-conditioned rooms and accessible only to super-intelligent people. Now I have one. I ponder the amazing machine that connects me to you, a device that fits under my writing table and yet is more powerful than mainframes from days of yore, and I wonder...why the Sam Hill can't you stay connected?

When I built this machine four years ago it didn't even have a modem. I built it strictly for development work. Then I realized that once I wrote my killer application and made my fortune I might need to transfer funds at the bank, so I installed a 33.6k internal modem. It lasted a few months and died a mysterious death. I didn't make much of it. The 56k modems had just hit the market so it seemed like a good time to step up. I bought a medium-priced device and put it in the slot the old one had occupied. It lasted a good long time, as these things go, but one day I left the machine on during a thunderstorm and a near-hit of lightning fried that modem like a potato stick. I replaced it with another one, which quit working last winter for no apparent reason.

About that time the phone company started advertising, actually they heralded, the advent of DSL in a town a couple of miles away. I bought a cheapo modem to get me through until the township that I live in caught up to the turn of the century. Unfortunately the century turned at the main road; I live about a mile too far out for DSL. I looked into satellite service, and from the price the company quoted I think they expected me to buy the satellite! Cable doesn't stretch this far either, so the only two options were to go with a cellular company or stick with dial-up service. Since the modem held its speed and I had fuel bills to pay I decided to stick with dial-up.

The computer ran fine for months. I could work from home, connected to my office computer, and the difference in speed was almost undetectable. I stayed online for hours at a time and never once dropped a connection. I could even download large Windows update files in a reasonable amount of time without fear of coming unhooked and losing all that data. Sadly, it was too good to last.

One afternoon I heard rain falling outside my window. I dropped offline and plugged my modem line into the surge protector. (At one time I used it religiously; then a phone-company repairman told me that removing it would give me one fewer "possible point of failure." I leave it off on sunny days but since Mama didn't raise a fool, I return it to service whenever the weather turns ugly.) I dialed back into work, enjoying the sound of the gentle rain outside and an occasional distant rumble of thunder.

All at once there was a big bright flash and a ka-BOOM! outside; at that same moment I heard a pop under my desk and my connection dropped. The first word I thought was Aw! I clicked Connect and waited breathless, leaning toward the desk, straining to hear that little whistle. There was no sound but the rain, now falling harder. Thunder rolled again, this time more loudly. I picked up the receiver; there was no dial tone. I was on a forced break.

I waited out the loss of service with the gloomy stoicism of a little-leaguer sitting out a rain delay. Over and over I lifted the receiver, hoping for a dial tone and not even hearing a click. I called the phone company on my cell phone, climbing up the branches of their phone tree. I keyed in my area code, the phone number that was out of service, a number where I could be reached, the phone number my parents had when I was born and the first and last numbers of my blood pressure, which was near 160/98. Apparently people who are about to have strokes get moved to the front of the line; my call was transferred to the next available representative.

Rep: Phone company repair.

Me: Hello. My phone is out of order.

Rep: Is it the phone you're calling from?

Me: No, it's my home phone.

Rep: You're calling from your home phone?

Me: No, it's dead. I'm calling from my cell phone.

Rep: Are you sure it's dead?

Me: It was when I called but I haven't checked it in the last three seconds.

Rep: Sir, are you sure the problem isn't in your house wiring?

Me: Oh, I've played this game before. Yes, I tried the box outside. It's your problem, all right.

Rep: Very well sir. I'm just going to test the line to be sure.

I heard keys clicking, or possibly magic beads being poured out. The representative mumbled a strange and ominous incantation, and the dead phone returned from the grave.

Rep: Sir, it seems to be working now. Is there anything else I can do for you?

Me: Can you send me some of those magic beads?

Rep: I'm sorry sir, that's against company policy. Thank you for calling your phone company.

I returned to my computer with restored faith in the inherent goodness of faceless behemoth corporations bent on global domination. I clicked Connect once more and again heard that familiar little hiss and whistle. Maybe, I thought, just this once, I'll get by with a simple fix. I watched as progress messages scrolled on the screen. Come on baby, I urged, hook up at 50.6 for Daddy.

For a long moment nothing happened. Then the monitor got a strange look and flashed a message that had been buried for so long the memory of it had faded:

"Unable to establish a connection."

"NOOOOO!" I shouted. "It can't be!!" I clicked Connect again. The computer whistled. Then it waited. The cursed message appeared again, like a skeleton from the back of the closet. Over and over we wrestled; time and time again disappointment rose up and batted my hopes down like a Chinese volleyball player spiking the ball.

Finally I couldn't stand another heartache. I shut down the computer, unplugged the phone lines, and removed the modem. I held the now-useless plastic sheet in my hand, contemplating whether it would be more satisfying to run it over with the lawn roller or get my two-pound hammer from the tool box and reduce the poor thing to elements.

As I stood coldly plotting mayhem, I remembered that in times past my connection would return once the foul weather had passed. Calmly I lay the modem on the keyboard and went outside to study the sky and to make sure my mini-sledge was still in the garage where I'd left it. When the ground dried and sunny skies returned I went back in the house and reinstalled the modem. I braced myself for another letdown as I rolled the mouse over Connect and clicked. The computer whistled. Messages scrolled. The computer paused longer than Apollo 13 took to re-establish contact with Houston. I took a deep breath, and then...

"Connected at 31.2 kbps."

"Thirty-one point two?" I shouted unbelieving. "That's the best I get?" Then the connection dropped.

I still haven't bought a new modem, but this could be the payday that I do. I've been limping along as my connection has good days and bad. When the connection's been good I've done a little covert research, and everyone needs to know what I've learned. I found proof that the phone company and modem manufacturers are consipiring to.....9bF87....lj4%#dl

(Unable to establish a connection)