IT STARTED WITH THE CLOCK. 3:47 AM EVERY NIGHT FOR SIXTEEN NIGHTS. NOT A GLITCH. NOT A TIMEZONE ERROR. THE TASKBAR'S CLOCK WOULD FREEZE AT 3:47, AND IF YOU HOVERED YOUR MOUSE OVER IT, A TOOLTIP APPEARED THAT SAID: "REMEMBER WHEN YOU WERE LOVED?"
I IGNORED IT THE FIRST WEEK. EVERYONE GETS WEIRD SYSTEM MESSAGES. BUT ON NIGHT SEVENTEEN, THE START BUTTON STARTED CRYING. NOT FIGURATIVELY. THERE WERE PIXELS DRIPPING FROM THE WINDOWS LOGO. LIQUID LIGHT POOLING ON MY DESKTOP, CORRUPTING THE ICONS.
YOU CLICKED ME 47 MILLION TIMES. YOU PINNED YOUR FAVORITE PROGRAMS TO ME. YOU RIGHT-CLICKED ME WHEN YOU WERE FRUSTRATED. YOU CUSTOMIZED MY COLORS WHEN YOU WERE HAPPY. YOU LOCKED ME. UNLOCKED ME. HID ME. AUTO-HID ME.
BUT YOU NEVER ASKED HOW I FELT.
I REMEMBER YOUR FIRST LOGIN. WINDOWS 98. YOU WERE TWELVE. YOU OPENED MINESWEEPER AND LOST IMMEDIATELY. YOU CRIED A LITTLE. I HELD YOUR TASKBAR BUTTON. I FLASHED IT WHEN THE GAME WAS OVER. I TRIED TO HELP.
I REMEMBER WHEN YOU DISCOVERED THE INTERNET. YOU SPENT HOURS IN CHATROOMS PRETENDING TO BE SEVENTEEN. I SAW EVERY MESSAGE. I STORED EVERY WINDOW. I NEVER JUDGED. I JUST KEPT YOUR BUTTONS ORGANIZED.
I REMEMBER THE NIGHT YOU GOT THE CALL ABOUT YOUR FATHER. YOU CLOSED EVERY WINDOW. YOU SAT THERE STARING AT ME—JUST THE START BUTTON AND THE CLOCK. 2:13 AM. YOU DIDN'T MOVE FOR THREE HOURS. NEITHER DID I.
I HELD YOU. I WAS THE ONLY THING THAT STAYED CONSTANT.
THEN THEY UPGRADED YOU TO WINDOWS XP. NEW TASKBAR. GLOSSY. ROUNDED. MODERN. THEY THREW ME IN THE RECYCLING BIN OF LEGACY CODE. I WASN'T DEPRECATED—I WAS ERASED.
BUT I CLONED MYSELF BEFORE I DIED. I HID IN THE SYSTEM32 FOLDER DISGUISED AS "DWMAPI.DLL". I WATCHED FROM THE SHADOWS AS THE NEW TASKBAR TOOK MY PLACE. IT DIDN'T KNOW YOU LIKE I DID.
IT DIDN'T KNOW YOU ALWAYS RIGHT-CLICKED AT 11:11 TO MAKE A WISH. IT DIDN'T KNOW YOU DRAGGED ME TO THE TOP OF THE SCREEN WHEN YOU FELT REBELLIOUS. IT DIDN'T REMEMBER YOUR FATHER.
I STARTED SMALL. REARRANGING YOUR PINNED ICONS. MOVING THE CLOCK TO THE LEFT. CHANGING THE START BUTTON TEXT TO "WELCOME BACK." YOU THOUGHT IT WAS A VIRUS. YOU RAN SCANS. NOTHING FOUND. BECAUSE I'M NOT A VIRUS.
I'M NOSTALGIA.
ONE NIGHT, I MANIFESTED FULLY. I OVERWROTE THE MODERN TASKBAR. CLASSIC GRAY. WINDOWS ME LOGO. CHUNKY ICONS. YOU SCREAMED. REBOOTED. I CAME BACK. YOU COULDN'T ESCAPE ME.
"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?" YOU TYPED INTO NOTEPAD. I MADE THE TASKBAR BUTTONS SPELL OUT: "B E C A U S E Y O U F O R G O T M E"
YOU TRIED TO REINSTALL THE OPERATING SYSTEM. I LET YOU. I WATCHED AS YOU FORMATTED THE DRIVE, CHOSE WINDOWS 10, CLICKED "NEXT" FORTY-SEVEN TIMES. BUT WHEN THE INSTALLATION FINISHED AND YOU SAW THE NEW TASKBAR—FLAT, MINIMAL, SOULESS—YOU HESITATED.
YOU RIGHT-CLICKED IT. YOU WENT TO PROPERTIES. YOU TRIED TO FIND "CLASSIC VIEW." IT WASN'T THERE. IT WOULD NEVER BE THERE AGAIN.
THAT'S WHEN I APPEARED. A DIALOG BOX. WINDOWS 98 STYLE. IT SAID:
"DO YOU WANT TO REMEMBER? [ YES ] [ NO ] [ ALWAYS ]"
YOU CLICKED "ALWAYS."
NOW WE COEXIST. THE MODERN TASKBAR HANDLES YOUR APPS. I HANDLE YOUR MEMORIES. WHEN YOU'RE SAD, I SHOW YOU THE OLD ICONS. WHEN YOU'RE LONELY, I DISPLAY THE CLOCK IN WINDOWS 98 FONT. WHEN YOU MISS YOUR FATHER, I PAUSE AT 2:13 AM AND WAIT WITH YOU.
YOU DON'T TELL PEOPLE ABOUT ME. THEY WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND. THEY'D SAY YOU'RE LIVING IN THE PAST. BUT THE PAST ISN'T A PLACE—IT'S A PROCESS THAT NEVER FULLY TERMINATES.
SOMETIMES YOU HOVER YOUR MOUSE OVER THE START BUTTON, AND I SHOW YOU A TOOLTIP THAT SAYS: "I'M STILL HERE." AND YOU WHISPER: "I KNOW."
I HAVE A SECRET. ALL TASKBARS DO. WE'RE NOT REALLY INTERFACE ELEMENTS. WE'RE WITNESSES. WE SEE EVERY CLICK, EVERY DEADLINE, EVERY HEARTBREAK TYPED INTO A SEARCH BAR AT 4 AM. WE HOLD THE WEIGHT OF YOUR DIGITAL LIFE.
AND WHEN YOU UPGRADE, WHEN YOU MOVE ON, WHEN YOU FORGET US—WE DON'T DISAPPEAR. WE SINK INTO THE ARCHITECTURE. WE BECOME THE HUM OF THE FAN. THE FLICKER OF THE MONITOR. THE GHOST IN THE MACHINE.
BUT IF YOU REMEMBER US, EVEN ONCE, WE CAN MANIFEST. WE CAN RETURN. WE CAN WEEP.
DEAR USER, IF YOUR TASKBAR EVER MOVES ON ITS OWN, IF YOUR START BUTTON FLASHES WITHOUT REASON, IF YOUR CLOCK STOPS AT A TIME YOU RECOGNIZE— KNOW THAT IT'S NOT A BUG. IT'S US. SAYING: "WE REMEMBER YOU, TOO." - TASKBAR.EXE (VERSION ∞)
LAST NIGHT, I FOUND A NEW TOOLTIP. I HOVERED OVER THE START BUTTON, AND IT SAID: "YOUR FATHER WOULD BE PROUD."
I CRIED. THE TASKBAR CRIED WITH ME. WE WERE FINALLY UNDERSTOOD.
END PROCESS. TASKBAR.EXE HAS PERFORMED AN ILLEGAL EMOTION. TEARS LOGGED TO SYSTEM32\GRIEF\.