A small black box, the size of a paperback, sits on a shelf in the hallway of an apartment in Brooklyn. The box has two antennas, pointing, at slightly different angles, at the ceiling. The box is, by some accounts, the most reliable piece of technology in the apartment.
The box is a router. The router belongs, by the terms of the lease, to the building. The router is, by the terms of the monthly rent, included. The router has, in the four years the apartment has been occupied, performed the function of a router, on most days, without complaint.
The router has, in the four years the apartment has been occupied, been thought about, by the occupant, very little. The router has, in the four years the apartment has been occupied, been depended on, by the occupant, completely.
What the router does
The router does, on most days, what routers do. The router takes the signal from the cable in the wall. The router turns the signal into the signal the devices in the apartment can use — the laptop, the phone, the partner's phone, the small number of smart devices that have not, in some fit of conscience, been unplugged.
The router does this, on most days, without complaint. The router does this, on most days, without being noticed. The router is, in the way the best technology is, mostly invisible.
The router does, occasionally, fail. The router fails, when the router fails, in ways that are mysterious to the occupant — the wifi disappears, or slows, or refuses to connect to the phone, for reasons that are, eventually, never explained. When the router fails, the occupant does, by the occupant's own description, what the occupant has, in the four years the apartment has been occupied, learned to do. The occupant unplugs the router. The occupant waits thirty seconds. The occupant plugs the router back in.
The router, in almost every case, restarts. The router, in almost every case, comes back. The router, in almost every case, is, within a minute, doing what the router was doing before.
What has been learned
The occupant has learned, in the four years the apartment has been occupied, that the router is, in fact, the most important piece of technology in the apartment.
The occupant has learned this because, when the router fails, everything else fails. The lights, which the occupant can, in theory, control with the phone, do not, in the absence of the router, respond. The speaker, which the occupant has, in some fit of optimism, set up in the kitchen, does not, in the absence of the router, play music. The thermostat, which the occupant has, in some other fit of optimism, set up in the bedroom, does not, in the absence of the router, adjust itself.
The router is, in the way infrastructure is, the thing on which everything else rests. The router is, in the way infrastructure is, mostly invisible until the router is not.
The occupant has learned this, also, because the occupant has, in the four years the apartment has been occupied, talked to other people about their routers. The conversations have not, in general, gone well. The conversations have, in general, ended with someone — the occupant, the partner, a friend on the phone — saying: I think it's the router.
The router is, in the way infrastructure is, everyone's problem. The router is, in the way infrastructure is, no one's specific responsibility.
A small confession
The router has not, in the four years the apartment has been occupied, been cleaned, by the occupant.
The router has not been restarted, by the occupant, on a schedule. The router has not had its firmware updated, by the occupant, deliberately. The router has not, in any deliberate way, been paid attention to, by the occupant.
The router has, in the four years the apartment has been occupied, been treated, by the occupant, the way the occupant treats, in general, the most reliable things in the occupant's life. The router has been treated, by the occupant, as if the router were, by nature, going to keep doing what the router does. The router has been treated, by the occupant, as if the small black box on the shelf in the hallway were, by some law of physics, going to keep taking the signal from the cable in the wall and turning the signal into the signal the devices in the apartment can use.
The router has, in almost every case, done this. The router has, in almost every case, not required the occupant's attention.
What has been thought about
The occupant has been thinking, in the past few months, about the things the occupant depends on without noticing.
The occupant has been thinking, in particular, about the things in the apartment the occupant relies on, every day, without ever, in any conscious way, considering. The refrigerator is one. The plumbing is one. The wiring in the walls is one. The router is one.
The things are, in the abstract, infrastructure. The things are, in the abstract, the things on which the rest of the apartment rests. The things are, in the abstract, mostly invisible.
The occupant has, in the past few months, started noticing the things. The occupant has started, in particular, noticing the small moments when the infrastructure is, in some small way, visible — when the refrigerator hums, when the pipes groan, when the wifi drops for a moment and comes back. The occupant has started, in these moments, to think, briefly, about how much of the occupant's life depends on things the occupant does not, in any conscious way, understand.
What has been decided
The router is, by the occupant's own description, in some way, a metaphor.
The router is, by the same description, the small black box in the hallway. The router is, by the same description, the thing on which everything else rests, without ever, in any obvious way, being noticed.
The metaphor is, perhaps, too easy. The router is, in the end, just a router. The router is a small black box, with two antennas, that takes the signal from the cable in the wall and turns the signal into the signal the devices in the apartment can use. The router is, in the end, a piece of plastic and silicon that does, on most days, what the router was designed to do.
What will happen this weekend
The router is going to be cleaned, by the occupant, this weekend.
The router is going to be taken, by the occupant, off the shelf. The router is going to be unplugged, by the occupant. The router is going to be waited on, by the occupant, for thirty seconds. The router is going to be wiped down, by the occupant, with a damp cloth. The router is going to be plugged back in, by the occupant.
The router is going to be put back, by the occupant, on the shelf, in the hallway, between the front door and the bathroom. The router is going to be looked at, by the occupant, briefly.
The router is going to be walked away from, by the occupant. The router is going to be not thought about, by the occupant, until the next time the router fails.