Factory Settings, Please!

First of all, JOY? In this chaos? Please.

The world feels like one big disaster where everyone’s lost the plot, their minds, and their median...slightly off-kilter and spinning in circles of noise and absolute BS. And then, at 3am Shamima sets the group chat on fire with conspiracy theories about oat milk, Bill Gates, and billionaire bunkers. Why, Shamima, why?

And by jove, I’m done with all the talking. How about silence and introspection for a change? Leave the devices to influencers and other imbeciles.

And don’t even get me started on the drama. People thrive on it, gorging on sensationalism like its breakfast. Imagine if we all rebooted back to factory settings: no grudges, no doomscrolling, just caveman-level concerns like:

“Is this berry poisonous?”

“Where are my rocks?”

“Who drew on the cave wall...was it you again, Bub?”

Bliss.

Meanwhile, here we are on the hamster wheel. Do we even see the wheel anymore? When last did you step off and just… disconnect? Not work, not exercise, not travel, just exist in your own weird and wonderful way. Breathing without thinking. Smiling at love. Floating in the pool like a star baking in the sun. Relishing velvet against your skin, a song that makes your foot tap, or the silence that comes when lips finally remember how to stay zipped.

That, my friends, is joy.

So how do we restart? Honestly, I think the reset hides in the absurd, away from the norm and detached from the status quo. Things like:

• Laughing at the fact we’re all sentient beings wired to WiFi, tethered to devices mostly selling us stuff and recycled thoughts.
• Taking unapologetic “thinking about birds and bees” breaks. (Birds are gorgeous, and – hello – they can fly.)
• Scheduling a daily giggle-snort. (Bonus points if it happens during a deadly serious Zoom call.)
• Whispering to your calendar: “Thanks… but no thanks.”

Here’s my radical solution: send us back to factory settings. Forget the grudges, delete the Twitter threads, uninstall the gossip. Return to baseline human decency.

Because chaos may be the group hobby, but joy? Joy is stepping off the wheel, looking up at the sky, and saying: “Alright reset button. Anytime now.”

What a Reset Might Look Like

A true reset would be a lot less like a conscious decision and a lot more like a glitch in the Matrix, wouldn't it? One moment, you're doomscrolling; the next, you're blinking at a world that feels both familiar and brand-new.

The First Few Moments

Imagine the moment the reset happens. You're no longer staring at a screen. Instead, you're just... there. For the first time in ages, your brain isn't processing a feed of information, but the raw, immediate world around you. Your focus narrows to what is right in front of you. A bird chirps and you actually hear it, really hear it, as if it's the first bird you've ever heard. You see a patch of sunlight on the floor and it's not just light; it's a golden, shimmering entity with dust motes dancing in it. The air has a smell, maybe the faint scent of rain, or freshly brewed coffee, or the damp earth from a potted plant. And it feels rather strange and unsettling...

The First 24 Hours of a Reset

The initial hours of this "reboot" would be a bit of a shock to the system, followed by nagging thoughts, and twitchy fingers, but you’ll convince yourself it temporary and then talk yourself into enjoying the “bit of a break”, and then... get ready for pure, unadulterated sensory overload...the kind you haven't experienced since you were a toddler.

Hours 1-3: The Conundrum

The initial confusion gives way to a profound sense of calm. The frantic noise in your head is gone. There are no notifications, no inner arguments about why that coworker didn't use an emoji, no anxiety about the future, and no guilt about the past. Your concerns are, , deliciously simple:

• Is that a good berry? You see a bright red berry on a bush and your brain just processes "food" without a thousand layers of nutritional labels, organic certifications, or social media trends.
• Is that person harmless or a threat? You see someone else and your instinct isn't to judge them on their appearance, but to gauge their body language. Are they a friend or an enemy? Your brain is running on ancient software.
• "Where's my stuff?" You might find yourself searching for a phone that no longer holds any relevance. This quickly gives way to a more natural exploration of your immediate surroundings. You'll notice the texture of your worn-out sofa, the pattern of the wood grain on your table, the way your own hand looks when you stretch out your fingers.

The Rest of the First Day

The rest of the day would be a slow-motion exploration of your own damn self. You might wander outside and notice the wind on your face. You'll sit on the grass and feel the individual blades poke at your skin. You'll probably take a walk, not to get somewhere, but just to walk. No one is watching, no one is expecting you to document it.

In this first day, you'd likely discover something about yourself that you'd forgotten: your inherent curiosity. Without the constant flood of information and external expectations, your mind would start asking its own questions. Why is that tree shaped like that? What does the inside of this flower look like? You'd be drawn to simple, tactile things: the weight of a stone in your hand, the feeling of cold water on your skin, the warmth of the sun on your back.

This "reset" isn't about being a better person or fixing the world's problems. It's about getting back to the basics of being human. It's about remembering what it's like to simply exist, without all the baggage. It's about the first blissful 24 hours of just being, before the complex layers of 'civilization' and the withdrawal symptoms of our addictions start to creep in.