Sad Mac

Sad Mac

On Friday, April 8th, while composing an email to a friend, suddenly the spinning rainbow ball of doom appeared.  Thinking it was just my internet acting up and that I needed to 'force quit' Chrome, I clicked out of Chrome without the slightest concern.  Then, however, the same ominous orb appeared.  

It may look pretty, but it often means no good.

For a  few months now, Polyhymnia, has been showing signs of wear.  I purchased and inserted more RAM, upgraded all of her aging programs, loaded Snow Leopard and the latest version of Office, and gave her a good wipe down--she was as if but a year old instead of three.  After this round of treatment, things were looking up.  She performed quickly like her younger self, enabled me to renew blogging, and happily accepted many pictures from all my travels this year.  I thought we had come out of the woods.

Surrounded by spiraling prisms, I acted as I usually would: I gently petted Polyhymnia and cooed that she was just tired, needed a rest, and held the power button down.  Had I only known that was the last time we'd speak, I would have told her how much she meant to me, how I'm crippled without her, and how she alone holds the albums of 3 1/2 years of pictures, the anthologies of college papers, tons of research data, and the keys to my electronic heart!

After a few minutes, I hit the power button again, expecting Poly to rise rejuvenated.  Her "I'm awake" melody sang and up came the groggy gray screen that usually precedes the desk top.  But she never roused further.  The gray screen stared blankly at me as I it.  Then I heard it, like a tiny baby's whimper: whir whir click, whir whir click, whir whir click.

Now I began to fret.  I turned her off again, then back on. "I'm awake." Gray screen. Whir whir click. Whir whir click.  Off, then on; "I'm awake" gray screen whir whir click whir whir click. Off on awake gray whir whir click whirwhirclick whirwhirclickwhirwhirclickwhirwhirclick. Off.

I scooped Poly up in my arms, wrapped her in her grape sleeve, gently laid the bundle in my satchel, and set off via bicycle to the ER of Apples, the Genius Bar, still not expecting the worst.

When I arrived at the Mac store, I discovered that in my feverish pace I had forgotten my bike lock keys.  Asking the kind Mac people to watch my bike, I flew to the Genius bar.  There Jim met me.  I am positive that Jim is the same guy I always meet with.  So kind and unassuming, patient and understanding, He had helped me so many times in the past.  Surely he could save Poly now!

"What seems to be the problem with your Macbook today?"

"Well, she was acting up so I turned her off, but now when I try to turn her back on, all I get is the gray screen and she makes this noise: whir whir click."

"Oh, I see.  I know that noise; that is the Sad Mac noise.  That is the noise of the hard drive trying to spin and then trying to reset.  That is the sound of dead hard drive. Tell me you've backed up your files."

"Of course," I lied, choking back tears.

Jim gave me a list of options, none of which involved resurrecting Poly, which was all I wanted.  I enshrouded her back into the sarcophagus sleeve, into the tomb of my messenger bag.  I biked home through a haze of tears as I thought of all the pictures on iPhoto, all the essays, all the data, the programs, and all the other things I couldn't recall at the moment but would the day I needed them and they were gone.  Poly descended to the grave, pulling down with her three and a half years of my digital life.

Here's to Polyhymnia, beloved comrade in arms against school papers, composer of my first published article, bearer of music, pictures, movies, and poetry, sorely missed friend.

Polyhymnia  August 2007 - April 2011