The Dream That Lived

“Marin! Are you ready? We need to get going!” Jayme’s voice echoed down the hallway, calling to her daughter as she wheeled her bike from the conservatory to the front door.

“I’m coming!” A yell sounded from the upper floors as a door slammed and footsteps thundered against wooden stairs.  Marin had found some vintage DM boots at a garden sale recently and insisted on wearing them constantly, even though her mother would tease that Marin’s gran wore them in her schooldays.  Marin reached the bottom of the stairs, slightly out of breath.

“Did you get my bike?” she demanded.

“Come on love, I think you’re old enough to get your own bike!”  Jayme chided, starting to blow out the candles which stood along the back of the hall table. Marin made a sound of exaggerated displeasure and stomped off to the back of the house.

“I wish it was like the old days and we had a bloody CAR!” she yelled as she went.

“Don’t say bloody.”  Jayme responded warily, just as her own Mum might have done back in the 2020’s.  Some things never changed.  “Come on, don’t be a grump – it’s an exciting night tonight,” Jayme continued warmly to her daughter as Marin brought her bike down the hall steps.  “Got your notebooks?”

“Of COURSE I have my notebooks!”  Marin retorted crossly before employing a swift personality change.  “Love you Mummy.” She said, planting a kiss on Jayme’s cheek.  Jayme laughed.

“Come on then, you!”

She blew out the rest of the candles and they wheeled their bikes out of the front door and in to the night.  It was early Spring and mild – talks of climate change had been going on for decades and yet every year the weather was different, there seemed to be no pattern.  The roads were not extremely busy – a few people on bikes, some pedestrians and a couple of taxis.  One stood by the roadside as they passed the late night corner shop, its windows ablaze with candles.  The horses stood silently munching from their nose bags whilst the driver stood idly beside them chatting to the shopkeeper.  Jayme and Marin waved and called out as they rode by.

It WAS to be an exciting night and a busy one too, Jayme was sure of it. It was the 50th anniversary of the Quill Awards which, unlike cars, microwave ovens and laptops, had lived through the Great Technological Disaster – or the GTD as they called it.

The two rode their bikes for a couple of miles to the West of their townhouse.  Jayme, who rode in front, had a battery powered flashlight strapped to her handle bars but really - there was little need.  Now there were barely any street lights or car headlights, the stars shone brightly on the City and besides – cyclists never travelled that fast – even when there WAS a crash, it was usually nothing more than a few scuffs and scratches.

“There it is Mum!”  Marin shouted out suddenly, bringing Jayme out of the thoughts she had become lost in.  The teenager braked hard and came to what she considered an elegantly impressive skid stop a few yards between her Mum and tonight’s venue.  The two of them looked up at the building which had once been an aquarium and which now sported a hand painted sign which read “WritingDotCom”.

Marin sniggered.

“DOTCOM!  Ha ha.  That is so stupid, I know you said it’s a COMPUTER thing but it doesn’t even MEAN anything!  People must have been so stupid in the old days!”  Marin cheerfully pushed her bike over to the bike-hookies outside the building as Jayme paused.  She had been a dotcom child, born with a smartphone in her hand and lived through the misery of the GTD – but for one moment she saw the World through her daughter’s eyes - a place where you did your homework by candlelight, grew vegetables in the garden with your friends, had bonfires on the beach instead of Xbox parties and made up your own film-like stories rather than watching a DVD…

“Mum! Come on, hurry up!!”  Jayme heard her daughter yell, again pulling her from her reverie.  “What’s the matter with you tonight?”  Marin continued as she took her Mum’s arm, the two of them walking through the swing doors which had begun their life as automatic.

They both stopped abruptly as they entered the building – WDC had gone all out tonight, with streamers, posters and balloons plastering the walls and ceilings of the entrance hall.  Along each side of the room showcase journals were set out on long presentation tables – these were large tomes of typed pages from the Computer Days belonging to WDC members of the bygone era.

“OHEMGEE!”  Marin shouted out suddenly, grabbing Jayme’s hand , “This is it, the one!  – somebody in ‘Addicted to WDC’ told me about it!”
Jayme looked at the journal that was the subject of Marin’s excitement.

‘BLUE JELLYBABY’ It read. ‘A Day In The Life’

Beneath it was printed a manga style digital image of a pretty young girl with blue hair and a lip piercing.  Jayme opened it and skimmed though the first few pages – an account of life at the start of the century.

“Did you know her??!”  Marin gushed.

“No,” Jayme replied.  “I think your Nan did though – I’m sure I recognise the name.  Come on, we’ve so much to do, can’t hang around in the lobby all night!”  She smiled and escorted her first and only born through to the main room.  The place was buzzing with activity – people sat in groups of varying sizes surrounded by posters advertising their specific interest – the history writers amidst pictures of Kings and Queens, romance lovers under giant pink hearts and Fantasy writers surrounded by banners adorned with knights and dragons.

In one corner of the room the auctions were taking place – members holding up the pictures they had painted or offering ‘Awardicons’ – hand painted trinkets or badges a member could wear to events and meets.  A cluster of people clamoured to bid on the treasures with the virtual GP currency which had been created before the GTD and outlived the downfall of both the pound and the dollar.

Before she could comment on the array to her daughter, Marin had rushed off to join her friends in the Paper Doll Gang.  Marin was mostly reluctant to share her written offerings with her Mother, but amongst her peers Jayme saw her open her notebooks and erupt in to illustrious conversation along with peals of laughter as they shared their innermost thoughts and ideas.

As Jayme stood, smiling and surveying the scene, she watched an elderly lady approach her.  She was in a wheelchair and her skin was wrinkled, yet her eyes glittered with happiness and excitement.

“I was hoping you would come.” The lady said as she stopped beside Jayme.  “I wanted tonight’s event to be here in the South of the Country – I talked Andrew’s son in to it…”

Jayme frowned, trying to place the woman who was simultaneously unfamiliar but recognisable.  She flicked mentally through her Mum’s old picture album – a collection of internet print outs put together when rumours of the GTD began to emerge.

“Fran?”  Jayme questioned gingerly.

The woman laughed.  “That’s me!”

“Wow, I can’t believe it…I can’t believe it’s really you – after the GTD…it was you who kept this alive, who kept writingdotcom going in the UK.  It’s you who we have to thank for all this!”

“No, not me” Fran said, taking her hand.  “It’s you, it’s all of you – the next generation; you are the ones who keep the dream alive, in the face of every adversity.  We may not have the internet anymore, but we will always have writingdotcom.”

The old lady smiled at her and Jayme looked around the room, knowing that she spoke the truth.

Her Mum, the poet known as Jellyfish - she would have been proud.



1331 words