After a while, I'm able to pull myself together.

  The router isn't the problem, I can at least tell that much. But that just makes what I have to do all the worse.

  I'm getting worked up again, so I close my eyes and try to slow my breathing.

  If the router isn't what's acting up here, that means the internet service provider is to blame. If the internet service provider is having a problem, that means that either the servers are down, or a signal tower is out. Without customer support or maintenance staff, the responsibility of fixing the problem lies with me.

  Either way, it means that I have to leave the house, and I'm terrified.

  I roll out of the beanbag chair and groan into the carpet. Pushing myself off the floor, I make my way back to the living room, where Linda is waiting for me at the top of the stairs. I stop to pet her shell and hopefully calm my hammering heart.

  I know I have to be the one to fix this, but I'm honestly not sure if I'm up to it; just this morning I didn't have the energy to shower for god's sake. I don't even know how to fix this problem, or what's wrong with the system in the first place, or where the building is, and I can't find it without google and I realize I'm starting to panic again so I stand up and take a deep breath. I really need to calm down if this is going to work.

  If I'm gonna leave, I have to get clean first. I take off my clothes on the way to the second story and toss them in a pile of other dirty clothes on the hallway floor. I can take care of that mess when I come back. Hopefully this won't take too long.

  I open the bathroom door and look at myself in the mirror.

  I look awful.

  My eyes are mostly hidden by my overgrown hair, but you can still tell that they have dark circles under them from a unique combination of sleep problems that plague me every night. My black hair is greasy because I haven't washed it in forever, but you can't really tell in this lighting. I run my fingers through it to confirm that, yes, my hair is, in fact, disgusting. I grimace at the sensation, exaggerating the expression for my own benefit; it's something I've picked up from talking to my own reflection, which, I've found, is almost the same thing as human interaction, depending on how much I'm dissociating that day. Today I'm fairly lucid, but it still serves to give my stiff facial muscles a workout. I clear my throat.

  "You look gross," I croak out at myself. The bluntness of the statement catches me off guard, somehow, and a sudden laugh bubbles up and out from somewhere in my chest, drawing my attention to my mouth. My teeth look about as good as they can look without toothpaste, but I do try to scrape off the plaque occasionally so they don't get to looking like George Washington's wooden chompers. My lips are chapped, but not bleeding, although they still do that on especially dry days. I can't grow any noticeable amount of facial hair, which I used to be self conscious about, but now it's just one aspect of hygiene I don't have to worry about maintaining.

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  I bring myself out my self-criticizing gaze and open the cupboards beneath the sink to retrieve the buckets I use to fill the bathtub. I exit into the hallway and walk towards the window at the end of the corridor, where the floating stream of water is lazily drifting past through the still air. I open the window and lean out to catch some in a bucket and repeat this until every bucket is full. I lug the water back to the bathroom and fill the tub.

  After I'm clean, or as clean as one can get without soap, I dry off and walk to the room my sister used to own, where I keep all the clean clothes. Rooting through the pile in the center of the room, I manage to find one of my brother's t-shirts and an old pair of shorts, which might be my sister's. After a while I'm able to find some boxers and socks that at least mostly fit; I think the socks are my dad's, but there's no way I'm his waist size yet, so the underwear is probably my brother's or mine. I pull on my shoes for the first time in years (they still fit, thank god) and head back to the bathroom to empty the tub. After several bucket-runs to the edge of the void, the water is gone.

  With that business finished, I dig through yet another pile of junk and find my old school backpack. I empty it out, and go back upstairs to fill it with some extra clothes. I remind myself not to go overboard; this is just a short excursion, nothing more. I'm just going to get to the signal tower or whatever, then fix the problem somehow, and get back to the house and live the rest of my life in isolated safety. Easy. I pack enough for about two weeks just to be on the safe side.

  Downstairs, I stuff some water bottles and food into my old lunchbox. That should keep them cool for longer, even without ice. I think that's how it works anyway. As I do this, an idea strikes me. I ran upstairs to my parents' room and look through the bookshelves for one of my dad's training manuals. He used to do electric work; maybe there's something in there about the local ISP building. I find a book that seems to fit the bill, and even though I'm aware that it's a long shot, and I should probably read through it first, it's better than going into this thing blind, so I take it anyway. I cram the manual into an outside pocket of my backpack and head back downstairs.

  I tie a jacket around my waist in case it suddenly gets cold and place a baseball cap on my head in case it gets sunny.

  Okay. I'm as ready as I'll ever be.

  I start towards the front door before remembering that the only thing on the other side is a vertical cliff face; I definitely won't be leaving that way. I don't even know if I'll be able to get the thing to open enough to squeeze out, let alone with a full backpack. A quick test confirms this to be the case and the door doesn't budge. Yep, I'm blocked in on this side.

  After a moment of distracted thought, the white of Linda's flowers catches my eye from the porch-garden. I follow her out and see her staring out of the glass doors that lead to the pool deck outside. Hmm. I haven't been near the pool deck since it grew its own swamp-like ecosystem, but I remember there's a sidegate that could be my way out of here. I pick up Linda, thanking her, and then I place her safely in my bag with a few leaves to eat if she gets hungry.

  I can't believe I'm actually going through with this, I think as I open the doors and head outside.