Hopper Apocrypha — Noncanonical Account
Filed by Howard Anxo (against my better judgment)
Author’s Note — Howard: The following account is noncanonical. None of what you are about to read occurred in the real Dumpster Bunnies timeline. Rusty does not speak in prophecy. Jake cannot monologue in classical Greek, and I have never — under any circumstances — investigated a tragic homicide involving a modem.
Jake insisted this be shared “for cultural reasons. ”Please treat it accordingly.
— H. Anxo
THE MODEM KING
A Greek Tragedy in One Act (Noncanonical)
PROLOGUE — The Plague of No Internet
The internet died just before dawn, and with it fled the peace of Valeroso County.
Rusty, tiny herald of chaos, cried out:
“Woe! Woe! The sacred lights flicker no more!”
Jake rose from his desk, cape already fluttering, for truly he arrived in readiness for destiny.
Howard arrived with coffee, steady as bedrock.
“Internet’s out,” he said.
Jake answered with heroic calm:
“Then fate has chosen me.”
Howard’s sigh was the prelude to tragedy.
PARADOS — Rusty, Chorus of Panic
Rusty circled the room, lamenting:
“Who slew the modem in its prime? Who smote the link between man and cloud? Who roused the wrath of the router gods?”
Jake whispered, “I should put that on a shirt.”
Howard closed his eyes.
EPISODE I — The Oracle Speaks
Howard opened the sacred network cabinet.
The modem was gone.
Howard: “Jake… where is the modem?”
Jake, puffed with pride:
“I relocated it to a place of comfort and honor!”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Howard paused.
“…Jake, where?”
Jake pointed. “To the heater vent! A warm modem is a happy modem.”
Howard stared into the abyss.
“Jake,” he said softly, “electronics do not feel cold.”
Rusty gasped. “The prophecy awakens!”
“There is no prophecy,” Howard muttered.
“There is now,” Rusty declared.
INTERLUDE — Jake’s Vow Against the Cold
Jake stepped forward, lifting his hands as though invoking Olympus itself.
Jake: “O cruel frost of the server room, O icy breath that slows the sacred packets! Shall I, Jake the Valiant, stand idle while citizens suffer the spinning wheel of doom?
Nay! I shall warm the modem’s heart, and banish lag from this land! For what is a hopper if not a warrior against the tyrant known as Cold Internet?”
Howard rubbed his forehead. “It’s sixty-eight degrees in that room, Jake, not a polar wasteland.”
Jake ignored him utterly.
CHORUS — Rusty’s Lament for the Cold
Rusty circled the floor in widening arcs, beeping a sorrowful melody.
Rusty (Lament):“Ah! Ah! The cold that gnaws the bandwidth! The frost that slows the sacred streams! Woe to the modem, shivering in darkness, its lights dimmed by winter’s breath!”
Jake placed a comforting hand on Rusty’s chassis.
Jake: “Fear not, brave chorus. As long as I draw breath, lag shall not claim this county. I shall bring heat where cold prevails!”
Howard, quietly:“…You’re just moving it to a heater.”
Jake: “TO THE FORGE OF PERFORMANCE, HOWARD!”
Rusty squeaked in agreement, as though the very Fates demanded warmth.
STASIMON I — Jake’s Boast
Jake leapt onto a chair.
“Hear me! I shall find the one who felled the modem, and justice will be done! Also, if anyone wants an ‘Outage Survivor’ shirt—”
Howard: “Jake. Focus.”
EPISODE II — Tiresias Reveals the Truth
Howard held up the melted modem, its casing sagging like wax.
“This modem,” Howard declared, “is dead.”
Jake staggered.
“Who… who would do such a thing?!”
Howard drank his coffee.
“You.”
Jake recoiled. Rusty fainted with a metallic squeak.
Howard continued:
“You moved it. You placed it on the heater. You blocked the vents. You slow-cooked the county modem like a rotisserie chicken.”
Jake fell to his knees.
“I… am the modem-killer.”
Howard: “Yes, Jake.”
Jake clutched his cape. “My reputation…”
Howard: “Also yes.”
ANAGNORISIS — The Terrible Realization
Jake stared at his paws.
“These hand sold T-shirts promising network stability.”
Howard nodded. “They did.”
“And all along… I was the threat.”
Howard: “You were.”
Rusty whispered, “The prophecy fulfilled…”
Howard: “Rusty, stop helping.”
EXODOS — Restoration
Howard installed the spare modem. The lights blinked. Internet returned. Rusty sang a triumphant chorus that sounded like a smoke alarm harmonizing with a kazoo.
Jake climbed onto the tailgate of his merch truck.
“Hear me! All ‘I Killed the Modem and All I Got Was This Lousy Shirt’ merchandise is now twenty percent off!”
Howard stared. “You made shirts already?”
Jake: “Howard. I always make shirts.”
And thus peace was restored, though wisdom came to only one.
The above narrative is noncanonical. Rusty cannot speak in prophecy. Jake does not perform strophic laments, and no Greek tragedy has ever occurred in my server room.
What actually happened: The latency resolved when Jake unplugged the modem. The meltdown occurred because Jake put it on a heater. The rest of this story is Jake’s attempt to feel better about that sequence of events.
— H. Anxo
