Autonomy

My folks let me have a computer game as a present one Christmas. It was the hot thing that year and they knew I wanted it so they bought it for me. This was years ago now.

"Do something useful with it," they said.

Well, I wasn't too bothered at first, you know how kids are, but when I realised what you could do with it I was hooked. I started to stay in my room a lot.

Dad came in one day. He sat on my bed and looked at the carpet.

"Son," he said, "your mother's worried you're masturbating too much."

I showed him the programme I'd created.

"And what's the point of it?" he said.

"I don't really know," I said, "it's just something I did. But it's like it functions on its own now, like it's auto ... aut-"

"Autonomous."

"Yeah, autonomous," I said, "like a real little world."

My folks were okay with it at first, but then mum said I spent too much time locked in my room and that I looked like a ghost. Eventually they lost patience and I was told to cut it out so much.

Anyway, all this was years ago.

Then yesterday, Ruth, my wife, found the programme disks. She had this report to write and was trying to make room on our little desk.

"And how about these?" she said, "Do you need all these old disks, honey?"

I came over and looked at the box.

"These," she said, "these old disks. Shall I throw them?"

I picked up a handful of disks. I'd written "Numbers" on one, "Vulgate" on another, and this last one said, "Esther". I smiled, remembering.

Ruth picked up a disk. "Ooooh, Revelation," she said, "sounds spooky."

She looked at me and laughed. "You ever going to resurrect an interest in these, or shall I throw them?"

I picked up another disk. It said, "Genesis".

"No," I said, "leave them. Maybe I'll have a look at them after supper."