Title: Death of The Internet
Author: Me.
Rated: T
Disclaimer: Not my toys, just playing with them.
Summary: Are there immediate affects when gods "die?"

Notes: So, I just finished American Gods something like 10 minutes ago. And by the time I was rounding out the third part of the book, I had a fic idea in mind. Granted, it's 3:33AM, my time, and I'm tired as hell, but I had to get this out.
The fic only took a real shape once we rejoined Sam at the coffee shop, and she and her girlfriend quickly discussed the article on America changing they found in the newspaper. I thought the almost-war was maybe changing America, but what about the little things that happened? Okay, maybe the things I'm thinking of weren't quite "little," but what was the immediate impact that a god's death had on their territory? What happened to those people who wrote books about Norse gods when Wednesday and Loki were killed? Or those types who still worshiped those gods? What of them?
And, on a more contemporary level, what happened when Internet died? That had to have some sort of bad affect on the actual Internet, right? Something exceptionally awful, as it's god was just murdered by mortal head wound.
And then came the ficcage.

It had been their first time together. After it was all over, Sam and Natalie had snuggled up together in Sam's one-person bed, in her one-person apartment and fallen into a post-sex sleep.

Sam had woken up only a few hours later, mostly antsy. She'd considered waking up Natalie and starting up another round, but one look at the smaller girl's sleeping face rid her of any desire to do so. Instead she was content watching her lover dose.

But after a good while Sam was only getting bored, not tired. It was 4AM and going back to sleep now would be pointless. The Coffee Shop only opened at noon, but Natalie had a job she needed to get to within the next couple of hours. Sam would stay up for her.

As carefully as she could, she disentangled herself from her girlfriend and half stumbled, half slid out of bed. She grabbed some of their disregarded clothing from the floor and slipped into them, not really caring to see if they were her own.

Being the young adult consumed by the information age that she was, Sam, not even ten seconds after putting on a fresh pot of coffee, thought about checking her email. Her computer was old, and a bit on the large side, but quiet and reliable, as far as computers went. Turning it on and browsing her inbox quickly probably wouldn't bother Natalie in the least, even though the machine was only feet away from the bed.

Leaving the coffee to it's affairs, Sam padded back into her room, flipped the switch on her power bar, pushed a couple buttons and sat down in a large office chair as the computer booted up. She spun slowly in the chair, enjoying the tiny rush it gave her. She'd bought the chair a year ago, hoping it would inspire her to feel more like a professional writer when she was trying her damnest to beat out some poetry. It didn't, really. But it was certainly fun to spin in.

Rolling the chair around so it was in line with monitor, Sam typed in her password slowly and Windows booted silently. Once she'd figured out how, she had made sure to turn off the annoying start up chime. It had driven her crazy. She was sure there was a way to just replace the sound with something she would have liked a starting up computer to greet her with, but she decided a computer greeting her was too weird in the first place. It wasn't like it was a person saying hello. It was just machine.

Satisfied that the computer was finished loading all it's content, Sam clicked her Outlook Expression icon lodged in the icon tray and waited for it to load. With computers, it seemed like you were always waiting for something to happen. Sam wondered if it was really just the individual things you were waiting for, like programs to start up or pages to load, or if there was one, big goal everyone who used a computer was using it to attain. She decided it was far too early to be thinking like that.

Sifting through her emails she found mostly junk, a message from her boss telling her that he needed her to pick up a stack of papers when she came in the next day, as their delivery boy was sick. Nothing too interesting.

She heard shifting in the darkness, but Sam didn't pay any attention to it. She was reading comments left on her blog now. She liked the idea of blogging, as it got her writing heard and out there. Though, most of what she put "out there" was only "heard" by bots posting messages for her to come check out their virus-filled web cam sites. She rolled her eyes.

"Do I smell coffee?"

Sam jumped slightly and looked out from behind her monitor. "Yes, I'm making a pot now. Sorry, was I typing to loudly? Did I wake you?" She asked without a hint of sarcasm.

Natalie smiled from the bed. "No, you're fine. Coffee gets me out of bed every time."

"I'll have to keep that in mind," Sam grinned widely and disappeared behind her monitor again.

Natalie sat up, wrapped a thin sheet-blanket around her mid-section and joined Sam at the computer, peering over her shoulder.

Thunder crashed suddenly, loudly outside the small window behind them.

"Whatt're you looking at?" Natalie inquired.

"Just my blog—" Sam started, when a banner ad at the top of the page caught her eye. "Hey, what's this?"

"What's what?" Natalie squinted through bleary eyes.

Sam pushed her cursor towards the ad, "This site. I've never heard of it before."

"I dunno," Natalie was having trouble focusing. She needed her coffee. "What's the site called?"

Sam inhaled sharply, feeling an odd, slimly sensation run down her spine as she read the name. "MySpace."