The Kraken's Spire Literary Magazine (Volume 1)

Another big divide is being able to remember a time before the Internet. No
one born in 1997 can have anything other than the dimmest, and quite possibly
fabricated, memories of a time before the web. Unknown to them is the unforgettable
sound of the family computer connecting to the Internet using a terrifying
series of screeching noises. It seems to me that generational terms are
arbitrary. As they show no sign of disappearing, I propose that we make the
system for stratification equally arbitrary.
When I was growing up, no film was complete without one of two things:
bogs or quicksand. Every film, and many TV shows, would end in the nailbiting
climax of the goodie and the baddie falling into a bog or a patch of
quicksand. The goodie, often inspiring friendship and loyalty by being a generally
decent sort of chap, would have a faithful ally to rescue them from
drowning in the mud or sand. Whereas the baddie, usually being a bit of a shit,
would have no
one to save them. Of course, once out of danger, the goodie would then in turn
try to hold out a stick or umbrella or rope or something long to help the baddie,
but this would invariably fail. If this reminds you of most of the films you saw
as a child, congratulations! You and I are of the same generation.
It is difficult to impress upon the reader just how much of an effect bogs and
quicksand had upon my childhood. I lived in constant fear that my life (and
everyone else’s for that matter) was heading towards a crescendo where I
would either be dragged to safety, or sink into a muddy nothingness. A sinkor-swim
moment. Or rather, a sink-or-be-dragged-to-safety-by-an-affablesidekick
moment.
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