The Unplugging

Margaret hadn't slept properly in three weeks. She moved through her apartment like a zombie, dragging herself from bed to coffee maker to home office, where she sat tethered to her corporate masters by ethernet and HDMI cables. The startup pitch deck she'd been crafting for seventy-two hours stared back at her—a masterpiece of bullshit, a bull market fantasy she no longer believed in.

Her golden retriever, Barnaby, whined at the door. He was twelve now, his muzzle gone white, hips stiff with arthritis. The only living thing that still looked at her like she mattered.

"One more hour, buddy," she whispered, reaching for the vitamin D supplements her doctor had prescribed. "We're almost free."

Almost. The word had echoed in her head for six years. Each promotion, each raise, each step up the ladder had been another rung away from the artist she'd promised herself she'd be. The cable company tech support job she'd taken fresh out of college—temporary, just to save for art school—had metastasized into a career.

Barnaby scratched at the door again, insistent.

Margaret stood, her joints popping like old floorboards. She crossed to the window and looked out at the city below—thousands of other apartments, thousands of other zombies glowing blue in the darkness. What was she waiting for?

She returned to her desk and opened the resignation letter she'd drafted and deleted a dozen times. Then she reached behind her computer and followed the cable from the wall to her machine, her fingers finding the connection point.

Barnaby sensed something shift. He stopped whining and trotted to her side, pressing his warm weight against her leg.

"We're going," she said, surprised by the steadiness in her voice. "Tonight."

The ethernet cable pulled free with a satisfying click. Then the HDMI. Then the power strip—television, monitors, the whole constellation of obligations blinking dark.

She stood in the sudden quiet, heart hammering, and for the first time in years, she didn't feel like a zombie at all. She felt terrifyingly, wonderfully alive.

Barnaby wagged his tail once, a slow, knowing thump against the floorboards.

"Yeah," Margaret said, reaching for her keys. "Let's go before I change my mind."