Do you remember life before the internet?
Dial-up didn’t just connect us to the internet, but it introduced us to waiting. Fifth grade, AOL, the sound of the modem screeching through the speakers like it was fighting for its life. That chaos meant something exciting was about to happen.
Dial-up
Before that, the computer was just a thing that sat there, mostly used for schoolwork or solitaire. Then one day, it became a portal. Logging into AOL felt monumental as if I was stepping into a secret space, somewhere beyond the world you knew. The Welcome! voice, the neon-blue interface, the thrill of clicking into chatrooms, instant messaging, early websites that felt infinite. Everything took time, loading pixel by pixel, but it didn’t matter. It was new. It was discovery.
Betrayal
The betrayal came when someone picked up the phone. One second, you were connected, deep in conversation, and the next all was gone. Screen frozen, world vanished, internet sacrificed because someone needed to make a call. You’d storm into the kitchen, frustrated, but there was no winning. The phone ruled the household.
Patience
And then there was patience, waiting for pages to load, images to reveal themselves line by line. Clicking a link wasn’t casual. It was a commitment, a hope that after enough buffering and struggle, the site would finally appear.
AOL dial-up wasn’t just technology. It was an experience. Anticipation, frustration, triumph. It was strategy, timing, knowing when it was safe to log in without interruptions. The internet wasn’t always mine. I had to fight for it.
Clunky, slow, maddening. But it was a first step into something bigger than a fifth-grade world. It wasn’t just about signing on, it was about realizing there was more out there.
More people. More ideas. More places to explore.
Even if you had to hear the modem scream every single time.
Whisper to the void it might whisper back