rendering of the A-Block science lab, Chemistry Class, Rosewood State High School. 1996.
...
Imagine
A classroom without computers.
Students actually writing in a book,
And knowing how to spell
Because they read books.
Research for assignments extracted from…books,
From a...library.
You know?
That place where you, like, read things,
And extract information
Not from Wikipedia
Or a .com
But on paper.
Flick on the switch.
The 386 tower grunts and groans,
A green light flickers,
Windows 95 appears.
5 minutes and a coffee later the desktop opens.
Screen freeze.
Assignments typed up on old faithful Wordperfect 2.0,
Saved to a 1MB floppy disc.
Do not bend,
Or that assignment is lost,
On that virus-addled disc,
Bugs with unpronounceable names.
White font on a blue screen.
Fishtank screensavers.
Magic Eye posters the only VR in town.
Some could see the picture,
Others, frustrated, not.
What's a book? Those things made of papyrus.
What do they do in libraries?
Don't know, have to google it.
Notes taken... from a blackboard.
Chalk dust covers all.
The old Overhead Transparency Projector
Sounding like a diesel engine.
The overhead fan clicks and clicks.
What’s an air-con?
Information stored in memory, not in a USB stick.
Mail only came in the letterbox.
A stupid fad called Internet.
It’ll never stick.
Strictly for nerds taking IPT class.
www.fluroyellowbackgroundwithbrightgreenfontandflashypixelatedjpegs.com.au
Texting was done via messages
Written in white-out or ink on the desktop.
The wooden desktop, not the digital one.
Stupid multi-coloured posters on the wall listing 101 different jobs,
Asking ‘Do you like Chemistry?’
‘Do you like Biology?’
‘Do you like Maths?’
No I don’t. Just like Ralph,
I want to be a caterpillar when I grow up.
Exams are done, multiple guess.
Paper wasps spent,
On the neck of the guy in front.
Pens sticking out the ceiling.
The duster sitting on the fan.
Outside the class window they gaze,
As a trio of crows pillage the bin for food,
Tipping that which was in, out
As they daydream of Friday night
Hoping fuel stays down,
55 cents a litre or no pizza.
Up all night playing Wolfenstein, not 3D,
Definitely not 3D.
Then X-Files ‘til sunrise,
But the VHS chewed the tape.
It’s cooked.
The phone rings,
Which is attached to the wall,
Where phones should be.
It’s the video store.
Mallrats and Porky’s are three weeks overdue.
Hit the fridge then hit the books
In front of Video Hits on the box.
Not X-Box
Sega was better,
But not as good as Atari.
Space Invaders yes,
Smart-tech Brain Invaders no.
The Tele,
In the shape of a box.
Got to wait 2 hours to see
Whose number 1 this week.
Then maybe that paper will get done.
Maybe,
After I go for a ride,
Saddled up I sit,
One hand a Coke,
The other, the rein
On a horse called VK.
...
Such was that age
Before zombification took the stage.