There’s a lot of it going around

SHERWOOD KIRALY

I have before me the diagnostic consultation sheet, or bill, from the

computer specialist we called in to help us last week when our family

computer collapsed. It’s a fittingly somber document. With luck it’ll

be another 30 years before my own physician writes anything so grim

about me.

Our computer got a virus. Well, more than one. The specialist came

out to the house and sat with it for awhile, and then she said it was

the worst case she’d ever seen.

Well, you never want to hear that: “worst ever.” Although whenever

I’ve had it applied to me, I’ve always gotten a frisson of pride.

There’s a left-handed eminence in it; a superlative is a superlative.

Still, it was a shock. It was our newest, best computer. I’ve got

this old laptop I write with, which no one else even wants to

approach, and Patti Jo has a newer laptop. But the showpiece was the

big boy downstairs in the den at command central. Katie used it all

the time. We couldn’t believe it. Worst ever?

It was still shiny.

Of course, we’d known there was a problem. For days Katie had

tried to mouse it back to health, but its functions had gradually

narrowed until finally the viruses took away the task bar. Without

your task bar you might as well just turn your screen to the wall.

The specialist said she’d try to save the files and the photos of

Katie’s friends, but she’d have to take the computer away. She left

us in the den, looking at a big empty. Katie still had her books, and

the TV, and tennis camp. Oh, and her family. But now there was this

gap in the day.

She thought she’d try getting a tan, but found, as many have

before her, you can’t recline in the sun for long. It’s hot. It’s

dull. It’s bad for you.

If you read you block the rays and get a telltale bookworm’s

pallor strip across your stomach. When she closed her eyes she saw a

little floating filament on the inside of her eyelid. It changed

color and reminded her of her screen saver.

The specialist brought the computer back a couple days later. She

wrote on her chart, “Worked several hours to save files. Could not.”

There had been 39 viruses plus 62 spyware viruses. In such a case,

survival is an achievement.

If I ever get 101 viruses at the same time, you can send a check,

in lieu of flowers, to the Friends of the Library.

She did save Katie’s pictures. And the computer is up and ...

well, jogging. We don’t want to tax it. The picture’s a little pale.

We’re going to watch what we process for a few days.