The Day the Screens Went Blank Read online

  Anyway, the doorbell rings and Sandra from next door comes in and says, ‘Guess what?’

  And we’re like, ‘What?’

  And she says, ‘No, go on, guess what?’

  And we say, ‘WHAT?’

  And she’s like, ‘Guess!’

  And we’re like, ‘Your telly’s still not working?’

  And she says, ‘Yeah.’

  Tonight Mum and Dad don’t feel like cooking because of all the weirdness and whatnot.

  (Total excuse, but I’m good with it.)

  Dad picks up the iPad so he can check what time the Chinese restaurant opens, and then he puts it down again and rolls his eyes when he remembers.

  So we all decide just to walk to the restaurant and see for ourselves.

  Mum and Dad still feel weird leaving the house without their phones so they take them anyway, even though you might as well just put a brick in your pocket. Mum brings an old comic instead of a tablet to keep Teddy occupied over dinner, but I don’t need anything.

  And then we step outside, totally without technology!

  I ask Mum if we can go to the woods tomorrow after school and have an adventure, but she says we have to wait and see if there even is school tomorrow.

  The idea of no school puts me in a very good mood.

  * * *

  The restaurant is packed when we get there. Everyone seems to have had the same idea. Mr Cheung is sweating, and he’s had to put a sign up outside saying CASH ONLY because his card machine isn’t working any more. Dad sighs but luckily Mum has some money in her bag, so we can go in. I admire her for this. Mum is not a very practical woman but she often comes through in a crisis.

  Some of the people who’ve come on their own are just sitting there, fidgeting, while they wait for their food because they’ve got nothing to do. Mum says that before smart phones people just used to read the back of peanut packets so they looked busy. I am not sure that can be true because it sounds absolutely… well… nuts.

  One of Dad’s friends, Ernie, is at a table near us. As we sit down, he says, ‘What do you think’s going on?’ I’m not sure why Ernie thinks my dad will know, but not knowing never stops my dad from having a go. He will literally pretend he has an opinion on anything, which is actually very useful for his social-media numbers (he has twenty-four followers on Twitter: he used to have twenty-five but the newsagent unfollowed him after he complained about some M&Ms).

  ‘Probably something to do with satellites,’ says my dad, and Ernie nods wisely.

  ‘They’re saying it’ll all be fine by tomorrow afternoon,’ says Ernie.

  ‘Are they?’ says Mum. ‘Who’s saying that?’

  ‘The guys in the pub,’ says Ernie.

  * * *

  Teddy keeps asking when he can watch planes again on YouTube. He can be a bit annoying sometimes because he seems to think this is Planet Teddy, not Planet Earth. Usually I would tell him not to just think of himself, but these are unusual times so I get the comic out and start to read it to him. But I’m still trying to listen to what’s going on around me so I don’t miss anything.

  Ernie has given up sitting on his own and pulled a chair up to our table. He says that he heard on the radio that all the airports had to shut down last night because every screen in the departure lounges went blank and also none of the pilots could see where they were going, which I believe is important. He says that it’s absolute chaos in London and all the hospitals are going mad. He says that even the traffic lights have stopped working because no one can control them with their computers any more. (I’m not that sad about that because it might mean that people start using their bikes more, which will be good for the environment and everything.) Ernie looks really worried by it all, but he also looks like he’s enjoying telling us all this. He smells a bit of beer.

  When we pay for our food, Mum goes to leave the change as a tip, but Dad picks it up and puts it in his pocket. He says we might need all the actual money we can get.

  * * *

  When we get home, Dad fiddles with the radio again and finds a station called the World Service. It seems like the really posh presenter guy must have been talking to Ernie because he says loads of the same stuff. He said at first people thought it was the billionaires who’d made the screens go funny, but the billionaires said it wasn’t. They were like, ‘We love screens!’

  So then they’d said it must be some government somewhere, but that government was like, ‘Are you kidding? What would we do THAT for?!’

  Then the man said that everyone was really worried about the ‘markets’, which is ridiculous because I’ve been to markets and don’t remember any screens. It’s all just fruit and duvet covers.

  Basically, I realized that NOT ONE GROWN-UP knew what was going on.

  At first I was pleased it wasn’t just happening in Mousehole (which would be typical), but then I started to worry because suddenly it felt really big and mysterious. Anyway, Mum said we could have hot chocolate and we should read those books we never usually find the time to read, while her and Dad talked about grown-up stuff.

  * * *

  Teddy and I lay down together on his aeroplanes duvet and opened a comic. He was really tired and kept trying to use his fingers to zoom in on the pages. I stayed until he went to sleep.

  Mum and Dad were still talking when I left Teddy. I went downstairs to see how long before they’d tuck me in. There was a woman on the radio saying it was really important we look after our elderly neighbours because old people might be feeling very lonely and anxious right now, especially those who live in the countryside and so on.

  And that’s when Dad went white and said, ‘Oh God.’

  I knew exactly what he was thinking because I was thinking it too.

  It was the first time we’d thought about Grandma.

  * * *

  My grandma lives right on the other side of the country in a place called Rendlesham.

  It’s got a big forest and UFOs used to land there.

  I didn’t believe in UFOs until I saw a guy on YouTube who said they definitely exist and now I definitely believe they exist. But I don’t believe what he said about them smelling like onions because that seems a bit odd. You get a lot of weird people saying a lot of weird things on YouTube. I saw a video once where a man with a ponytail was talking for ages about how the Earth is flat. But, if the Earth is flat, then wouldn’t all the oceans just pour off into space? I don’t think he was a particularly rigorous thinker (‘rigorous’ is last month’s word and I love it). He even said that people all over the globe think the world isn’t round. I mean, hello? What shape are globes? So I gave the video a rigorous downvote and Mum took the iPad off me because she said she needed to keep an eye on what I watch, which I very much agree with.

  You won’t believe what Grandma’s house is like. It has huge columns out the front like the White House and a big long garden filled with bunny rabbits and foxes, all getting along, like in a cartoon. There are trees and big bushes cut in the shape of cats. I remember it all vividly. I think Grandma’s probably a secret baroness or an eccentric millionaire or something. I don’t know what she is, except for a grandma. I guess even grandmas were something before they were grandmas? But I bet she at least knows the Queen. I bet they go bowling.

  Dad’s always saying to Grandma, ‘We’ll have to visit again soon, Mum,’ but I’ve really only been to Grandma’s once that I properly remember because it’s so far away – it’s eight hours to drive there, or ten if it’s Dad that’s driving, or twelve if it’s Dad driving and there’s traffic – and because things are always so busy. We went a lot when I was little, apparently, but now we use Skype instead. I remember going there when Teddy was born. He got most of the attention on that trip just because he had youth on his side. That’s also why he thinks he can steal my chips or knock my stuff over whenever he likes. If they are not careful, Mum and Dad will raise a criminal.

  Anyway, Dad gave Grandma an old computer she uses
to send us messages and on Saturday mornings after swimming we Skype for a bit. Dad says that Skyping is the best solution for Grandma because it makes him feel less guilty. I don’t understand why he feels guilty because I think Grandma must be delighted. She always seems happy, even at the end of our Skype calls, when Dad has to quickly leave to reply to an email or Teddy starts to play Roblox or Minecraft or Mum drifts off to do her work stuff. I’m always the last one speaking to Grandma, so I get to end the call, which feels important. But now there’s no Skype.

  * * *

  Mum seems really worried about Grandma, and I seem to catch some of that worry off her. Suddenly we all feel a bit helpless. Mum says Grandma’s got no way of getting to the shops on her own and she will only shop using the supermarket delivery van, which she can’t arrange without the computer. I had to give Dad a shocked look earlier because I overheard him joking that it would be the posh people who’d die out first because they’d be the ones standing at their windows, waiting for a van that would never arrive. Anyway, he says he’ll phone Grandma in the morning.

  ‘How?’ says Mum.

  Dad looks at his blank phone and says that’s a good point. We don’t have one you can plug into the wall any more cos Dad realized it was cheaper to use wi-fi.

  Then he says he’ll just ask to use Sandra from next door’s phone. She’s still got an old one, just like she’s got that old cooker and that TV that isn’t flat. It’s too late to go round now, he says, but he’ll ask tomorrow.

  But poor Grandma, all alone in that massive, creaky old house. With all those creepy suits of armour. What if she goes in the garden and gets lost in her own maze? She might be trapped there now!

  I go to bed concerned that this is a very bad time indeed to be a grandma.

  * * *

  The next morning we all go into Sandra’s and look at her phone.

  Her phone is mad. It’s got a big, thick curly wire, and it’s green like a tortoise. Green! You have to put half of it up to your ear, and listen through a big round speaker. Also, to dial a number you have to put your finger in a slot and twist it round. It takes so long to dial someone’s number you could probably walk round to their house quicker.

  Anyway, to stop feeling helpless, we’re trying to actually do something.

  ‘Okay,’ says Dad. ‘Let’s call Grandma.’

  Mum sits down at the table with a cup of tea and says, ‘Go for it.’

  Dad stares at the phone, and then he stares at Mum.

  ‘Right,’ he says, ‘so what’s her number?’

  ‘Oh,’ says Mum, and she picks up her phone to find it, and then says, ‘Tsk!’

  Grandma’s number is stuck in Mum’s phone and Mum doesn’t know it off by heart. I get that. How could you be expected to know it off by heart? It’s like twelve numbers or something. And Dad doesn’t know it either. Usually you just go to G and press GRANDMA.

  Mum once told me that when she was a kid, the way you kept all your phone numbers was to store them in your head. What a waste of brain space! You’d have an address book, she said, or maybe a thing on your fridge with all the phone numbers on, but you never took it anywhere. So if you were out you just had to remember everything.

  HOW?

  How could you store all those numbers in one noggin?

  Oh, I’d better phone Paul: 9307896234!

  Oh, I’d better phone Sam: 50 50 50 2 billion and 3!

  And then you had to go and find a phone to actually do all that on!

  Were people ROBOTS back then? Or was there just nothing to do except remember numbers? Half the phone calls people got back then must have been wrong numbers.

  Then Sandra has an idea. She says there’s that number you can ring to ask someone else to look up a number for you, sort of like a speaking internet. We crowd round the phone while Dad rings it.

  A woman answers and Dad says, ‘Hello, can you look up a number for me, please?’

  And the woman says, ‘I’m afraid that our screens aren’t working so I can’t look anything up. I don’t really know what I’m doing here actually.’

  ‘Oh,’ says Dad.

  And then the woman says, ‘I don’t suppose you know the number for a taxi?’

  Dad did his best but it turned out the woman was in India and he’s never even been.

  * * *

  So we can’t phone Grandma and we can’t text Grandma and we can’t Skype Grandma and we can’t email Grandma.

  ‘We could wait for Grandma to ring us?’ says Mum.

  ‘But Grandma might not even know anything is wrong,’ I say.

  ‘Well, I guess we’ll never speak to Grandma again,’ Dad says. Mum gives him one of the Looks she uses when Dad does one of his jokes. But really he’s just tense because he knows Grandma might be scared and waiting for him to call.

  ‘What about writing her a letter?’ says Mum, after thinking for a bit, but Sandra says her son Eric has a friend who says the Post Office is going to be shutting down from tomorrow while it works out how to do things without screens. This just makes us all the more worried about Grandma. What if she’s just sitting there, on her big chair, staring at the door, all alone, without even a visit from the postie?

  ‘Well,’ says Dad, finally, ‘I guess we’re going to have to go there.’

  ‘What about work?’ says Mum.

  ‘I can’t do any work.’

  ‘What about my work?’

  ‘You can’t do any work either.’

  ‘What about school?’ I say, and they both look at me.

  This is all such great news.

  They never cancel school! Even when it snows loads, my school seems to be the one school in the country where everyone is like, ‘Keep calm and carry on!’ Turns out all that was needed was for the grown-ups to be affected by something!

  Apart from not having to sit in boring lessons all day, there are three other reasons why this is great news.

  First of all, I get to see Grandma.

  Second of all, we get to save Grandma from feeling lonely and confused, which pretty much makes us superheroes.

  And third of all – it’s a family adventure! I don’t remember us ever having one before. The closest we get is watching Dad play Zelda on the Nintendo.

  Okay, so it’s only sitting in the back of a car for ten hours on a motorway.

  But it’s a rescue trip, which makes it an adventure!

  The next morning, Mum and Dad pack the car. It’s not actually our car, it’s Dad’s work’s car, but he got to choose the colour (red) and we use it all the time, not just when he’s working. We have no idea how long we’ll be away for, so we bring a bit of everything.

  All Teddy wants is his iPad so he can watch Paw Patrol and I have to gently explain to him that we’re going to look out of the window instead. He looks at me like I’m mad. I tell him that we can pretend they’re screens and won’t that be fun? But he starts crying. Life will be easier when he’s five and becomes a more mature travel companion.

  I have packed all the essentials you need for an adventure, including a ruler, a compass and a protractor. Dad’s bringing sleeping bags because Grandma won’t be expecting visitors, and Mum says we can do a big shop for food and anything we’ve forgotten at one of the motorway services on the way.

  I love motorway services. They’re like little islands in the boring concrete sea. For some reason motorway services change the rules and laws in our family because I’m always allowed to play the arcade machines while Dad has a pee. I hope the arcade machines are still working. But if not, I will just have to come to terms with what Teddy will one day also understand: the fact that life can be cruel.

  Dad says we need to drop by his office in Penzance to let everybody know he’ll be away. Mum asks Sandra to water our plants, but says we should be back in a day or two. Sandra asks if we’re going anywhere nice and Dad just rolls his eyes. I guess he’s not looking forward to the drive.

  * * *

  When we get in the car, I m
ake sure my pillow is nicely plumped up, and Dad starts the engine and says, ‘Right!’

  This is it! We’re off!

  And then we all just sit there for a moment as Dad realizes that the GPS screen in the car that tells him where to go is broken too. Dad has no idea how to get anywhere if the computer lady doesn’t tell him. But he doesn’t seem to want to accept she’s not there at the moment, so keeps jabbing the button that says Nav and saying, ‘Hello?’

  Up until a few years ago, we didn’t have any robot helpers. Now we’ve got loads of them, thank goodness. There’s Siri and Alexa and the Google person and the lady who lives in the car and tells us where to go. I wonder how they’re spending their time now the screens have gone. I hope they’re all hanging out together, enjoying not being asked annoying questions like, ‘What’s the weather like?’ all the time. It’s beyond me how they don’t just reply, ‘You’ve got a window! Check the weather yourself!’