Well the tiniest little dot caught my eye,
and it turned out to be a scab.
And I had this funny feeling,
Like I just knew it's something bad.
I just couldn't leave it alone,
I kept picking at the scab.
It was a doorway trying to seal itself shut,
but I climbed through.
— Nine Inch Nails, “Only”
One day, I was tweaking my computer to optimize its file search capabilities into something that more closely resembled Windows Vista, Microsoft's snazziest — and by extension, most bloated — offering. Basically I wanted what Mac users have been enjoying for years, fast seamlessly integrated search capabilities. Along the way I tripped upon a snag, the proverbial fly in the ointment. The search software I was using was the best I could find, but it wouldn't preview TIFF/TIF images properly. JPEGs worked, as did BMPs, PNGs, and GIFs, so why not TIFs? It was absolutely maddening, like a frayed thread that begged to be stitched, especially considering my fairly extensive collection of TIF files. It was such a small thing, yet having it meant I might experience the heights that Mac users take for granted without having to actually buy a Mac. I would have my Tagged Image File Format.
My PC was a standard OEM affair that came bundled with the hardware manufacturer's modified version of XP Home Edition, but in my fervor I'd irrationally concluded that my non-Professional system was somehow at the root of all this. So I restarted the system, slapped in my XP Professional disc and proceeded with the tedious task of installing a fresh OS. However, instead of seeing the familiar setup GUI, I finally witnessed the dreaded Blue Screen of Death. Something had gone horribly wrong between points A and B, but for the life of me I couldn't remember what the hell it was. Lack of sleep tends to do that, and by this point I was already approaching the 25th hour of what would promise to be a very long day.
In a panic, I abruptly restarted the computer and the BIOS kicked in as normal, but afterwards there was nothing but utter darkness. I tried a sucession of reboot options in a pathetic attempt to troubleshoot it, but somewhere after my twelfth attempt it truly dawned on me that I'd singlehandedly ruined my XP system so far beyond the point of repair that the safety net of “System Restore” had lost all relevance. I had succumbed to the very weakness that had undone Icarus, and mere moments later, I now scrambled for dear life amidst the ruins of my hubris, desperate to revive the murky wasteland that now lay before me.
I methodically went about setting things aright, but as the minutes quickly grew into hours, a terrible possibility chilled me to the core: that my system and all it contained might remain the eternal victims of digital homicide. That what was lost could not be regained. To make matters worse, my sound system spontaneously died just as I was starting to formulate a strategy. I unplugged my receiver and waited a few minutes before plugging it back in; after all, that had always worked in the past. Five minutes later I went to see if history would prevail. Nothing. I was alone with the silence.
This wholly unexpected blow left me in a state of numbed bereavement, but there was no time to dwell on what couldn't be saved. I continued my efforts with disbelieving detachment until the hours stretched on and my body cried out from want of sleep and lack of blood sugar, and I felt myself giving in to the sobering possibility that my efforts were in vain. I paused for a moment, caressed by the sweet siren of sleep, yet I dared not give in, because if I slept then I would have to awake — with renewed understanding and despair — that my life as I had once known it no longer existed. And I refused to allow myself the luxury of sleep amidst such desolation.
I pondered my options. It seemed likely that only the C Drive was damaged and that I might yet reformat it, or at least replace it. I should note now that removing a preinstalled hard drive from an HP machine is a hellish undertaking that is best attempted with small hands, dexterous fingers, and specialized tools. Since I had none of those things, this deceptively simple process soon became an exercise in persistence. The ingenuity by which the C drive was locked-in was so clever that I'm not entirely convinced it wasn't by design: a measure to ward off unauthorized tinkering and shore up lucrative customer support calls. But I didn't fret over HPs insidiousness for long. Another solution was at hand. I could connect the C Drive to my other PC and determine its salvageability, and — while I was at it — see if the priceless personal data on my secondary drives remained intact. A series of diagnostic tests revealed that my information did survive and that my C Drive might yet be reborn. After many more hours of tedious testing, formatting, and shifting of hardware, I began the equally tedious process of reinstalling Windows XP… Pro. While XP churned in the background, I devised an ad hoc speaker solution to replace my fallen sound system. Once XP was finished, a new horror awaited me. I could neither connect to my network nor the Internet. Once again, the solution lay with my other PC (along with a little help from my USB drive).
I scoured the net for the appropriate drivers, copied them to my flash drive and installed them on my convalescing machine. Through a vexing process of trial and error, I was able regain network access along with my Internet connection, and after a deluge of system patches and updates, I could now begin the meticulous work of software installation and system tweaks. Pleased with my progress, I decided to reward myself with music, but this reward was long in coming. My soundcard lacked the necessary drivers. I searched the Net for a remedy, but this became a protracted reprise of my earlier struggles with the network card. Hours passed and the silence stretched until I feared my soundcard might share the same fate as my moldering sound system, but like before, when I had almost given up hope, the solution presented itself. There was sound, sweet blessed sound to quench my arid soul.
At some point after the sound was restored, I indulged in all the simple human pleasures I'd denied myself since the start of this crisis. I bathed, I ate, I slept.
Twenty-four hours later, I had virtually finished rebuilding my system, which now ran better than it did the day I bought it. It took another week or two before I got everything exactly where I wanted it, and resumed my Grail Quest for that Zen-like search experience I was certain waited for me somewhere out there among the Net. But, by following the very thread that lead me into and out of this labyrinthine odyssey, I ended up at the very place from which I started. The TIF previews still didn't work. It seemed that my pristine vision of unified File and Search capabilities would remain in the province of dreams, but by that point, I was just grateful I could sleep at all.