An internet apocalypse isn't really an apocalypse, is it? I mean, think about the book of Revelation:
When the Lamb opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, “Come!” I looked, and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him. They were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword, famine and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth.
Now, that's an apocalypse. But the worldwide loss of the internet - especially as this novel conceives it, without any effect on international commerce - would primarily mean - as this novel conceives it - a loss of mindless entertainment. But wouldn't we treat it like an apocalypse? Our first world problems comprise a sort of daily apocalypse (my favorite is "My inflight movie was longer than my flight.").
Nowadays (I feel the curmudgeon rise within me, just using the word "nowadays" ... mmmmm ...) we can't just say something pithy. We tweet it. We aren't just proud of our children. We post their accomplishments on Fakebook, uh, I mean, Facebook. We can't just make a nice dinner for our family. We have to post it as food porn on Instagram. And I judge not, or at least I chuck the first stone at myself (which is just as difficult as it sounds) - I participate in this online solipsistic egofest. But, hey, I mean, like, hey.
So the main joke of this novel is how people would adapt to a world without Reddit and Twitter.
Tobey took a step closer. "First of all," he said, "I resent the implication that making up funny one-liners about how fat Jennifer Love Hewitt has gotten is not a real job. But more important, are you serious? Being a desk jockey for the Workers' Compensation Board? That's a real job? Judging from the amount of beer in your fridge and the fact that you're wearing jeans on a Tuesday, I'm guessing you haven't been there for a while."
"I'm working remotely," I lied.
"Working remotely or not even remotely working?" He smiled.
"Wow. That's a good one."
Tobey was the best two-paragraph blogger there ever was.
"I know. I just wrote that. And now it makes no sense because there's no Internet."
That's just it. What is the point of being clever if not to be appreciated, and to be thus valued by the largest audience possible, which has evolved to become a main function of the online world. Remember when the internet was new and everyone was flush with how it would change our lives? But no one predicted that LOL cats would rule and 6-second stop-motion animations on Vine would be hailed as high art. But this is the world we created, and we are stuck with it. Probably. Unless the internet stops working (or is stolen, by the government, of course).
Right. Which brings me back to this book. Three unlikely comrades go out in search for the internet as if it were a thing to be found. Which is the point. The internet is not a thing. In a sense, it's nothing. But here I am blogging about it. On the internet. Or blogging about the book (print on paper) about the internet on the internet. The snake chokes on its tail and takes a selfie while doing so (without hands, quite a trick).
Do they find the internet in the end? I don't know - does it really matter?
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