It was a dark and peaceful night. An owl hooted. A fox skulked through the yard. The mice crouched silently, in sleep mode. Some time before dawn, on orders from the mothership, the mice exchanged their souls.
My mouse was misbehaving. It sat obediently on its little pad, but when I clicked nothing happened. Several useless clicks later I resorted to tech troubleshooting 101 and restarted my Mac. Success! The mouse capered about happily as I clicked away. But then something really strange happened. It seemed to have a mind of its own, racing around the screen wildly when I wasn’t even touching it. Was this the moment the tech wizards predict, the moment when the machines take over?
Diagnosing the problem would turn into a bit of a domestic drama. There was much shouting back and forth with my husband in his adjoining home office. The night before he had attached his mouse to my Mac to charge it. Had he somehow mixed up the mice when he retrieved it? It seemed unlikely. My mouse had been sitting on its pad as usual and his was on the opposite side of the desk attached to the mothership by its umbilical cord. Yet now he claimed his mouse wasn’t working. As he moved it around nothing happened on his MacBook screen, while the arrow on my screen leapt into action. What was going on?
I clicked on the Bluetooth icon to check which mouse was connected to my Mac. The answer was “Mel’s Mouse.” I clicked to disconnect it. Somehow a switch had occurred. Never mind how for now, we had to switch back. We met on neutral territory in the hallway and switched mice. But that was not the end of the story. The mystery only intensified. I connected my mouse but once again the arrow careened around unbidden, while obeying my commands as well. I clicked on the Bluetooth icon again. “Mel’s Mouse.” From the other room Mel’s Mouse was insisting on mating with my Mac. No matter how many times I clicked to disconnect it there it was again. Perhaps its night attached to the mothership had created an inseparable bond.
I fancy myself a better tech troubleshooter than my husband so I began shouting commands into the other room. “Turn off your laptop, just turn it off, and the mouse too!” I might have added a few choicer words. With Mel’s devices dormant my own mouse successfully bonded with my Mac. But as soon as Mel turned his laptop back on the same thing happened. We went through the steps again and this time I shut down my Mac before he turned his back on. Once this forced his mouse to accept his laptop I dared to turn mine back on. Problem solved, we think.
How the mix-up happened we have no idea. Were the physical mice really exchanged or was it their inner identities? When I walk into my office now I look at my mouse and wonder “Who are you really?” I click on the Bluetooth icon just to be sure.
What is certain – from now on Mel must charge his mouse on his phone charger. No more illicit coupling.