Hyber-Nation

When Hyber-Nation
first came online,
I was among the first
to wear their eclipse-black
sweatshirt with matte-finish
Olde-English letters
just under the left arm.

We recognized each other
that way, a forlorn
little half-wave was all it took
to see that you were not alone
in your Hyber-Nationhood.

At first, there was no other way
to find other Hyber-Nation members.
Just the little half-wave,
and you were left wondering
how long that person
had spent in Hyber-Nation,
whether they ever came out,
how many others there were.

Once online, we were able to blog,
to add masks to our logo apparel,
to give news of the years spent alone
in Hyber-Nation. We found couples
who shared a Hyber-Nation, even
entire families, and as knowledge
of our existence began to spread,
others joined us, if only to buy
the sweatshirt.

Soon, we were receiving thousands
of hits per day on our website,
Hyber-Nation dot net.
We elected our first president,
exchanged recipes, spoke of our
mutual distastes, some even ranted,
an unfortunate few were flamed.

People left jobs to blog full-time,
others divorced when their spouses
complained. People dropped out
of colleges and divinity schools,
soldiers went AWOL.
People were left stranded
in locations with WiFi reception
as their cars ran out of gas.

Service clubs began to close,
schools began to empty as parents
forgot to take their children,
symphony halls stood empty thanks
to the extraordinary attraction
of Hyber-Nation to violinists and
oboists. Sports teams folded
as players refused to leave
the bench.

Fights broke out in libraries as crowds
packed in to use WiFi and computers,
and people became irritated
at the inherent contradiction.
Eventually, Hyber-Nation
exceeded available band-width
and server space. No permanent
record was ever kept
of Hyber-Nation members.
I never see the sweatshirts
or the masks anywhere.
It feels so lonely again.