In a near future where permanent internet connectivity has been banned after leaving almost an entire generation blind, Vicente works the night shift at a care home for elderly people who once lived online. Their favorite pastime is playing a tactile version of Battleship, led by the sharp-tongued Santiago and newly invigorated by Olivia, a former YouTuber whose voice rekindles withdrawn Rosario’s ability to speak.

Nº 05 | Short story | Science fiction | 4253 words | Translated by Trinidad Montalva

NO CONNECTION

EMILIA MACCHI

It’s that time of day when the last rays of light shyly fall from the side, just before darkness sets in. Vicente, the evening caregiver, watches the elderly residents from the doorway. He always leans against the same corner, believing he has a better view of the living room from there. There isn’t much to do at the home, and everything seems peaceful. Some are listening to music sitting in small, worn-out leatherette armchairs; today’s popular vote chose techno. Tomorrow it will surely be trap. Undoubtedly, everything is calm because the more troublesome residents have had a good day. There are harder days, though, when Mrs. Rosario cries in frustration because she feels she’s missing something and doesn’t know what, or she misses someone but doesn’t know who. Today, however, she’s silent, sitting on a sofa beside the background lamp, which flickers on and off intermittently and abruptly. She seems to enjoy it, as if she were sunbathing. There are also days when Don Santiago yells at the others—once, he even left Marta crying because he called her a coward and a failure. It’s almost unbelievable to think that an old man who behaves like that can now be sitting near the window, facing Don Esteban, laughing. Leaning over the table, each of them manipulate their boards and miniature ships. Since neither of them has a steady hand, the boards rattle making their cheap plastic creak.

«Did you put them in? Or do you need more time?» Santiago asks.

«I’m ready. Shall I start?» Esteban replies.

«Okay.»

«G-7.»

«Water. D-3.»

«Water. E-5.»

«Water. A-1.»

«Water. J-9.»

«Water. B-3.»

«Fire, damn it!» Esteban holds out his fist upside down, tight. It is only after Santiago taps over it that Esteban finally opens his hand, letting a gray plastic boat, about the size of a fingernail, fall out. «Here.»

«Wow, you fell fast, Esteban,» Santiago continues. «At least try to give me some competition. My turn again, then. I-7.»

Vicente laughs to himself. Despite his temper, Santiago is one of his favorites. He’s delusional yet charming.

«Water. A-8,» Esteban replies.

«Nothing. J-1,» Santiago decides.

«Fire!»

«And the little boat?»

«It hasn’t fallen yet. It’s a big one.»

«Awesome! J-2, then.»

«Water. G-7.»

«Water. It has to be I-1.»

«Fire!»

«And now?»

«Uh uh, it’s even bigger…»

«H-1. Come to pappa.»

«Fire.» Esteban extends his fist again. «Damn, are you sure you’re blind? Or is this your best-kept secret and you’re actually snooping on me?»

«It’s because you’re senile, my friend, you always play more or less the same.»

When Esteban starts to gain momentum in the game, the other old folks gradually gather around to cheer him on. Some bring chairs with them. They crowd together unintentionally, and amidst languid feet and canes, Aurora stumbles as she tries to sit down on her stool, trips, and falls backward. Mrs. Rosario gets up from the sofa, startled by the noise. None of them feels capable to bend down and help her up.

«Coming through, excuse me, coming through!» Vicente says angrily, pushing his way through the crowd. He takes Aurora by the back and gently drags her toward one of the small leatherette armchairs. The moment the armchair creaks, Esteban asks:

«Aurora, darling, are you alright?»

«I’m fine,» she says. «My butt served as cushion.»

«Please,» Vicente explains, «be patient next time. I know Battleship can get interesting, but remember you’re not the only ones in the room, so don’t make any sudden movements. Please, listen to me. Otherwise, I’ll have no choice but to take that game… Hello?»

The old folks didn’t even answer him. They knew Vicente would be incapable of taking away one of the most beloved pastimes in the place. No one would be that cruel. Vicente, on the other hand, did not insist. He wanted the day to end as peacefully as possible.

«Some days they can barely move, and suddenly they all go crazy,» Vicente says as he puts on the kettle. «They’re like children. Unbelievable. Particularly with Battleship. The moment Don Santiago seems about to lose, there’s a fight, or someone falls over. Do you remember when Don Esteban had a meltdown? I was really scared then. Maybe I should keep the game in this cupboard, so when they want to use it, they’ll have to ask me. And, of course, then I’d be aware that they’re using it and that I should keep an eye on them… Hello? Marta, are you going to ignore me too?»

«I’m listening,» Marta replies from the loggia while folding sheets, «oh well, at least they’re excited.»

«Yes, of course, it’s great that they’re happy and excited, but if something happens to them, it’s my responsibility.»

«You have nothing to worry about. The girl who was here before you had the same problem. It’s normal. And well, we can swap chores whenever you want. I’ve been mopping floors for a long time now.» There’s an awkward silence; only the kettle whistles. Vicente tries to smile. Marta laughs.

«I was just kidding, Vicente.»

«Well, it wouldn’t hurt to learn how to fold elasticized sheets like you. You have a natural talent for it.»

«It makes me happy they get so excited about Battleship. It’s an analog game, it keeps them active, and it greatly improves their cognitive abilities. I personally worry on those days when no one wants to play. You have to remember that these kinds of games didn’t exist back then. Before, almost everything was visual. And now that they’ve lost their sight, they have to touch everything. It can’t be easy living like this.»

«Yes, getting old must be tough.»

«No, it’s more than that. I mean, being part of such big changes throughout your life. Remember Don Esteban was born in 2011.»

«Right, but when we’re his age, maybe we’ll be the same. It’s quite possible that one day everything we know will be obsolete.»

«I don’t know, I don’t think so. It’s different; their world collapsed. Mrs. Aurora was a community manager; Mr. Esteban was an IT specialist. Jobs that no longer exist.»

«How strange to be connected all the time.»

«At all hours and in all places. And to get paid for it.»

«I once thought it was only in certain places. At home, at work; things like that.»

«I think that’s how it was at the beginning. I’m not sure though, we’d have to check at the library. But I know there were several years when the connection was constant: before getting up in the morning and right before going to sleep. In high schools, bars, museums, the movies…»

«How unhealthy to connect indoors,» Vicente said, laughing uncomfortably.

«In hospitals too. Imagine being near children, people dying, pregnant women, all sorts of people.»

«At funerals, weddings, graduations.»

«Football games, exhibitions, libraries.»

«No age minimum.»

«That’s right! Without even getting a license. Nothing.»

Vicente paused for a few seconds, while watching Marta fold sheets. He hasn’t been here long, so he’s unsure how much he can actually trust her. She seems a bit too proper. He lets his spoon clatter in his cup to fill the silence for a couple of seconds.

«The other day, I heard…» he starts, «that you can get it.»

«Get what?» Marta asks, without looking at him, still folding sheets.

«Connection.»

«Like… internet?»

«Yes.»

«Well, of course you can, so what? How dangerous, Vicente, don’t even think about it.»

«Yeah, but, if it’s just once, nothing would happen.»

«Of course something would happen. I see the effects of it every day here. You see it too, right?»

Vicente continues to hesitate. Marta gets impatient. She finds it a bit tiring to have to keep arguing about something so obvious.

«Vicente,» she chides him, «they went blind. Almost an entire generation. How can you still be a little curious?»

«Perhaps it would help us to understand them better.»

«They went from only connecting at home, for leisure, to connecting in the bathroom. And in ten years or less.»

«I know, I know, but… maybe it shouldn’t have been banned. Maybe they should have regulated it and dosed it…»

«Yes,» Marta interrupts, «or maybe it shouldn’t have existed at all.»

«‘What messes you up isn’t the drug,’» Vicente quotes, «‘what messes you up is the addiction.'»

«You spend so much time with old people that you’re starting to sound like them.»

It’s late. Vicente reads to stay awake. After looking around for a while, he decided to take the oldest book from the cabinet: it’s from 1980 and has a worn cover.

As it is known, the screen consists of three hundred thousand phosphorescent dots distributed in five hundred and twenty-five horizontal lines. These tiny dots appear to be constantly on, but they are not. They turn on and off at a rate of thirty times per second, a frequency impossible for the human eye to perceive because it only detects ten flickers per second. A light, for example, that turns on and off nine times per second appears to flicker, but at a rate higher than ten per second, it appears to be continuously on.

The Huachaca Culture or The Contribution of Television, by Pablo Huneeus (1981).

He pauses and looks at the lamp. He turns it off. Then on. Then off. Then on. He tries to do it as quickly as possible. After a while, he leaves it on while he massages his eyes. The sun is about to rise.

Even from outside the house, Vicente can see and hear the Battleship trays through the window facing the street. He disinfects himself, changes his clothes, and leaves them in the designated area as quickly as possible so he can check on them before anything happens.

«It’s impossible to beat Santiago. When was the last time someone beat him?» Aurora asks.

«There was a lady, she died a couple of years ago. She was amazing. She was just like Santiago. A Santiaga,» Esteban replies.

«Olivia, you’re new here, don’t you want to play?»

«No, please, let someone else go. I’ve never played before. They explained it to me, but I still don’t quite understand it. Maybe if I listen for a little longer, I’ll get it.»

«Come on, Olivia.»

«Think of it as a rite of passage, as a welcome tradition.»

«Hello, everyone!» Vicente calls from across the room. «Good afternoon. I’m here. Don’t pressure Mrs. Olivia; she’ll play when she wants to.»

Olivia nimbly approaches Vicente and places a hand on his arm.

«Good afternoon, Vicente, good afternoon. I’ve heard so much about you, I’m glad I’m finally meeting you. My name is Olivia, and don’t worry, everyone’s been great, – especially Mrs. Rosario, she’s a sweetheart -, everything’s been great, I’m very comfortable. Well, I’ve always adapted very well to everything, I don’t know why I find it easier to connect with strangers than with people I’ve known forever. It must be because I’m an Aquarius. Sometimes it’s a big advantage, obviously, but sometimes it isn’t.»

«You can tell this one used to be a YouTuber,» Esteban says. «Come on, Olivia, come play. We can chat later when we’re more tired.»

«Yes, I have a lot of faith in Olivia,» Aurora adds. «Besides, she talks fast. How old are you?»

«Eighty-nine.»

«She can beat Santiago then. He must be about a hundred and something.»

«That doesn’t matter, Santiago wins because he has a good memory. Don’t you see he was only passively connected?»

«What does passively connected mean?» Vicente interrupts, trying to join the conversation.

«Before the 2090 agreement, I wasn’t connected that much,» Santiago replies, «I mean, just as a hobby. I was an electrician; I spent all day moving cables. It was an analog job. You know what I mean?»

«Yes, of course, I understand a little. There was still some connectivity when I was born,» Vicente responds. «Anyway, as far as I know, all the spaces were connected, right? The radiation from the Werfi was incredibly powerful.»

«Wi-fi, dude. Wi-fi,» Esteban corrects, while the others laugh like children.

«Yeah, the radiation and the lights affected me just the same. I lost my sight like everyone else,» Santiago continues, «but think about it, all these guys were working with screens. That’s seven more hours of digital stimulation than me. That’s why they say I have a better memory. Esteban positions the ships the same way almost every time, you know? That gives me an advantage. Yeah, I didn’t have as much money as some of these old bastards, but look at me now!» he shouts with ironic glee. «Who’s the king of Battleship now, you useless old farts!» The others burst out laughing. «What good was all that money, you sons of bitches!»

«That’s why we want you to play with the new one. You don’t know her game yet,» Esteban interrupts, laughing. «In fact, we should make it interesting.»

«I think the new one is going to be awesome!» says Aurora. «Yey, Olivia! I bet my yogurt that you win.»

Olivia and Santiago take their seats and begin setting up their ships. The sound of the board makes the rest of the old folks restless, so Vicente takes it upon himself to bring the leatherette armchairs and all the necessary seats.

«I’m just going to ask you not to crowd together so much, please,» he begs them. «And don’t bet your snacks. I don’t want anyone to get sick again.»

«Stay, Vicente,» says Aurora, «someone has to keep an eye on things to make sure no one’s cheating. This is serious.»

«Is Olivia going first or what?» Esteban yells.

«Okay, I’m going,» says Olivia. «B-6.»

«Fire!» Santiago raises his fist across the table. There is a general ovation, as if it were a football match. Those closest bang their fists on the table, making both boards shake.

«Don’t make a big deal out of it,» Santiago utters, «it was just a small ship. It’s your turn again, Olivia. It’s always your turn again when you sink a square.»

«G-2.»

«Fire! Damn it!»

Applause and cheers fill the room, louder than before.

«A new era! The era of Olivia!» shouts Esteban.

While peeling some fruit for breakfast, Vicente remembered the time he and his mother had been in a car accident, many years ago; it was the fault of an older gentleman who still hadn’t gotten used to driving without a screen and didn’t know which way the street went. Since then, his mother had a prosthetic leg. «I don’t know why we drive cars; we’re not made to travel so fast. We have legs for a reason, and we weren’t born with an engine,» he remembered her saying. He hadn’t thought about that episode in a long time, but today he had felt something similar while trying to keep up with Mrs. Olivia. She spoke so fast she sounded like a household appliance. She introduced herself theatrically, and despite being blind, her eyes widened, darting from side to side in search of light. After the Battleship game, she talked to Mrs. Rosario until bedtime, using words and changes in tone that he himself was not used to decipher. He would never have imagined she would get along with the shyest lady in the house, so watching them interact was quite a sight: Rosario laughed with fascination, but didn’t answer or interrupt once.

«Marta, what do you know about YouTubers?»

«They were something like radio announcers. But with a screen, of course.»

«Mrs. Olivia was a YouTuber.»

«That’s right, it was on her file. Besides, you can tell right away by the way she talks. It’s incredible, she’s brought so much energy to the house.»

«Yes. It makes me nervous though, to be honest.»

«Why? It’s wonderful that she’s contributing to the well-being of the place. Mrs. Rosario has been doing so well since she’s been here, have you noticed?»

«Yes, she must have known her; apparently, she was somewhat famous. Esteban told me she went online under the name Olivia Explains It and was doing quite well.»

«It doesn’t surprise me; Olivia speaks in such an engaging way that Rosario can concentrate better on a topic without getting distracted. She’s been able to communicate better these past few days; she even sometimes forms complete sentences, and she doesn’t get so nervous when she speaks anymore. It’s definitely been an improvement.»

He was finally arriving home. The journey had felt endless with that little package inside his jacket pocket. All the way there, he reminisced about the screens from his childhood, back when they were legal but came with age restrictions, purchase limits, and internet usage limits. Vicente’s mother had always been careful to keep him away from digital devices, but he knew from his friends that some skeptical parents still went online from time to time, even with their children. Vicente remembered one particular night when his mother’s friends came over. When they told him he could take his dessert to bed, he knew someone had brought a device. So he went to bed, ate tiramisu, and listened attentively to the clinking of glasses and complete unrestrained laughter in the other room. After a while the noise went down, followed by a kind of… knowing silence. He went out to take his plate, and his mother kindly intercepted him. «Honey, are you still awake? It’s so late, my love, give me that.» He glanced over his shoulder and saw her friends staring at a glowing rectangle, about the size of a palm. They were so fascinated they couldn’t even hide it. From that day on, his mother took him to the movies much more often, one of the few entertainment options that endured because it wasn’t interactive. Besides, it was considerably cheaper than renting a device with internet access.

Perhaps if she hadn’t been so strict, he wouldn’t have that package in his jacket right now. But he’d only rented it for two weeks; more than enough time to figure out what this was all about.

Vicente is lost in his thoughts as he leans against the doorframe, watching the old folks. He glances at Esteban, who insists in challenging the others to a game of Battleship, while the rest try to ignore him. But he’s especially focused on Mrs. Olivia, who is gesticulating wildly before her three-person audience. He was lucky to have found that warning letter in the entryway before Marta saw it. If she had found it, perhaps he wouldn’t be there anymore. Or perhaps Marta would have understood, who knows.

«Olivia’s performance is amazing, isn’t it, kid?» Santiago says, leaning his back against Vicente’s.

«I don’t really understand it. There are a lot of terms I don’t know… anyway. Yeah, it’s incredible,» Vicente replies.

«Imagine it with colored filters, sticker animations, all that nonsense. It was mesmerizing.»

«I can imagine.»

They both remain silent for a while, listening to Olivia’s buzzing and the trap beat in the distance.

«Hey, Don Santiago, excuse me for asking, but what do you know about Vicente Vilches?»

«Who’s named Vicente here? Shouldn’t you know?» he replied ironically, creating a terrifying silence. «Vicente Vilches, known as visionary Vilches, or Ve Ve, is an iconic figure from the 1960s, 1970s, somewhere around there. He hung out with hackers, leaked information. He was always involved in protests and giving statements. He knew the internet connection was harmful, he had proof, people were already starting to go blind, so it was simple math. He believed we had to go back to basics, abolish the connections, and all that neo-hippie nonsense. The authorities hated him because the internet connection was important at the time; all the population’s data was on it. He turned up dead very young; he must have been your age. Twenty years after his death, everyone realized he was right.»

«But then, if he was right, why isn’t he more famous or well-known? I’ve never heard of him.»

«Good point. How do you know he exists? Where have you been?» Though they couldn’t see, the old man’s milky eyes stared intently at Vicente, who felt a slight chill. «Relax, buddy, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.»

«I can’t thank you enough.»

«Just be careful because the thing is practically magnetic, it’s very hard to break away, mark my words. Not to mention reason enough to kick you out of a place like this.»

«I know, I know.»

«Although if it were up to me… well, you know what I think: it’s not the drugs that get you high.»

«It’s the addiction. I know, I’m clear on that.»

There was a knowing silence between them. In the distance, Esteban dragged Aurora toward the Battleship boards for the fifth time that day.

«Anyway, let me tell you,» Santiago continued, «little by little, different countries joined the 2090 economic pact and put on quite a show. China was one of the first to sign, imagine that; they were armed to the teeth with technology. Vilches was never mentioned here again because they weren’t interested in dissolving data or abolishing algorithms. So, they let people forget about him.»

«So, instead of dissolving the data…»

«They transferred it to another system, obviously. Analogous, but just as invasive.» The old man gently felt his arm. «Did you get a warning letter, kid?»

«Yes.»

«Extraordinary. After all these years, they’ve never stopped having our data. The only thing that changed is that they work behind closed doors. Give that shit back, take care of yourself. Look at whatever you want to look at and then give it back.»

Two weeks with the device seemed more than enough. He’d already watched a bit of Olivia Explains It, which basically consisted of a younger, even more gesticulating Mrs. Olivia. He went back to the search engine to learn more about VeVe, but he found no new information. He also looked at some TikToks, but it was difficult to stay focused, as all the content he searched for had residual content flickering at the edges of the screen: Asia from rivertastic.com, Andean Flavors Just for Men, GPS Tracker Sale and Installation, The Biggest March: No More Chips!, Guangzhou Technology, New skincare products for Chip Implant bodies, This is crazy Instagram madness, CyberDay Intensive English Pay for 3 Months Get 6, Proextender Penis Enlargement and Curved Penis Correction System, Earn millions from bitcoin even when crypto markets are crushing. Only on the last day he realized that this advertising might be the key to get information about the past. He wrote down the terms he didn’t understand, so he could ask Don Santiago.

«Hey, Marta, are you going to tell us where Vicente is, or are we supposed to pretend nothing’s wrong?»

«Excuse me, Don Santiago, I haven’t disrespected you. Finish your soup, will you?»

«What do you mean, ‘you haven’t disrespected us’? You’ve always treated us like we’re babies, like we’re incompetent. Do you feel sorry for us?»

«But, why all, why so much? Please, what? Can’t you see» Mrs. Rosario began to gasp anxiously.

«I just want what’s best for you,» Marta insisted.

«Look, ok, everything’s here, but why? I mean, how?»

«You pity us. You despise us. You’re so full of yourself, you think we’re all brainless idiots, you think you’re better than all of us. But let me tell you something; you would have been the same. You would have been an obedient lady, one of those who turns on devices even when they’re not listening to them, just so she doesn’t feel alone. If they still existed, you’d do it all the time.»

«I don’t know where Vicente is. He didn’t come back; a termination notice arrived. That’s all I know. Please.»

«You threw him under the bus, and now you want to play the victim.»

«Enough, why all this fuss, just leave it, it’s all over, a little bit of, everyone will, please, please, please» Mrs. Rosario started crying loudly, so Marta went to her. Santiago felt the edge of the tablecloth and dragged it violently. The soup plates, some glass cups, the miniature boats, and the two boards, all fell.

Vicente spots a Battleship tray among the trash. He picks it up, examines its translucent gray surface, and runs his fingers along the numbers from A to J and from 1 to 10. He taps it gently, and the sound transports him back to the time he worked at the home. He wonders if Don Santiago is still alive. Not so many years have passed, but he’s been through a lot since then. He didn’t know before, for example, that these kinds of toys are made of polycarbonate plastic, and that it can contain varying percentages of bisphenol A or other compounds like BPS or BPF. Recycling this material can be used to manufacture medical supplies. He’d like to ask a guard if he can keep it as a souvenir. They should let him if it’s not a sharp object. He taps the tray again, this time like a tambourine, and while making a small musical rhythm, he raises his gaze to the horizon of the pampa. He lets himself be dazzled. It’s that time of day when the last rays of light shyly fall from the side, just before darkness sets in; he can see the shadows of his colleagues as they walk through the landfill. Another Tuesday comes to an end. Tomorrow, Wednesday, it’s time to collect paper and cardboard.