Assimilation
It all started months ago pretty innocently. I surfed over to a website sponsored by a big mysterious company — you know, Snowstorm — the one that’s organizing our world. The site has enticing pictures of active, healthy-appearing young adults doing fun things — such as, say, chopping onions, hunting deer, riding a unicycle. But here’s the trick — each of them is sporting Snowstorm’s new SnowstormMonocle!TM while they’re participating in these cool activities. They seem to be enjoying themselves — and they look so….content, transcendent — and, let’s just say it, informed. Supposedly, the eyepiece allows the wearer to see a technologically enhanced version of his or her surrounding reality. The neat thing is that the wearer can contrast that enhanced informed experience with the mundane view captured by the other unaided eye. The device responds readily to voice commands and allows the wearer to monitor and save all those enhanced experiences AND broadcast them…to the world…to all one’s followers…real time! Now that’s some kind of new JoytotheWorld, isn’t it?!
Sure, you might initially think — and you’d be right — isn’t a monocle so, well, 19th century? Let me tell you, this one’s quite different — sort of Teddy Roosevelt meets Captain Picard as Locutus of Borg. Anyway, the new eyewear seemed enticing, so I got right on the SnowstormMonocle!TM waiting list. The website described an experimental INTREPID program for curious early-user types. The site included an admonition to, “Get on the list!” So I did; seriously, who wouldn’t, right? I crossed my fingers and waited — counting off the days.
Well, I wish I hadn’t. I mean the device works and all. I’ve seen some cool things since I got mine — some freaky ones too. Admittedly, I do have a new, vibrant (powerful?) clarity. In fact I see lots absolutely nobody else sees. But it’s too much. I’m the only one I know with the device. I’m a little nervous about broadcasting all the weirdness. People aren’t going to understand. Truth be told, I’m kind of scared, but there’s absolutely no going back. I can’t. I won’t. You won’t be able to either when you get yours.
A few weeks after I got on that list, a snowflake-embossed parcel with an undulating animated (no idea how they do that!) version of the colored, distinctive Snowstorm logo on four sides appeared unannounced at my front door. I was soooo excited — but that’s also the day things started changing. I’m just glad I found the package first and not the family, neighbors or dog.
I couldn’t believe my great fortune. I looked around to make sure no one was watching, grabbed the delightful little box and rushed upstairs. Forget directions, I just slapped that baby on pronto. Snowstorm had thoughtfully (they really think of everything) fully charged it — in fact the device doesn’t use traditional charging — it converts the wearer’s movements into power — that means you never have to remove it!
I got my bearings with it — tried a few voice commands. It’s unbelievably intuitive. Literally the second I put it on, I felt like I had worn a SnowstormMonocle!TM forever.
My son was — naturally — in his room on his Playstation10 — fully engrossed in some zombie attack warfare game. (Those immersion games are so disturbing — and violent.) I poked my head into his room, “Hey, Nate…”
He didn’t look away from the screen — but grunted, “Yo, Dad.”
“How was your day, son?”
He mustered something like, “Fine.”
“Notice anything about me?” (…since I now looked like Teddy Roosevelt meets Locutus)
“No.”
But boy did I notice some strange stuff. Whoa! Two of the game zombies — they’re not real, mind you — stuck their heads, literally, right out of his flat screen — all the way out — into Nate’s room! Then they turned, looked at me pointing — and the worst part? They stepped fully out of the screen zombie-walking directly toward me. I ran like hell.
I got downstairs and out the front door. Ok, I was a little behind the season. It was well into November, and I had left our Halloween decorations on the porch — which include an old — fake, of course — gramps-like corpse in a dilapidated rocker. (He scares the trick or treat-ers). When I got downstairs — fleeing the zombies — Gramps stood up from the rocker — I kid you not — looked straight at me, rolled his fake corpse eyes, picked up his rocker and zombie-walked it back into the barn.
Crap. I ran into the kitchen to tell Mary and fess up about my new device and the enhanced experiences. Mary was in there — as she often is — working hard on a big feast. I barely noticed her though because right in the corner was a very real looking (I assume it was a hologram or something — it had to be) soot covered Scarlett, fist raised, saying over and over (God, make her stop!),
“As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again!”
I turned and ran back upstairs — poor Nate was in there, alone, with those game-zombies — but I needn’t have worried — without moving from his recliner he had expertly blown off their heads before they got near him with a flick of his Playstation10 controls — and resumed play.
Lately, on my nighttime runs — I wear my wonderful SnowstormMonocle!TM on all my runs and rides — I often see what I at first thought were deer all over the neighborhood. There are more and more lately — have you noticed? As I pass they look straight into the headlamp (there’s a SnowstormMonocle!TM headlamp app!) — heads cocked and eyes glowing in the dark — like, well, deer in headlights. My trusty device, though, scanned them early on and quickly alerted me to their real nature. They’re not deer at all — in fact — here’s where it starts to get odd — and you probably won’t believe me — they’re aliens disguised as deer (or at times even more cleverly as road kill — they do that too — so beware), and they’re everywhere — with numbers growing almost daily. Humorously — and knowingly — I smile to myself on those nighttime runs now — Ha! — it’s really an aliens in headlights look! You see how helpful this device can be.
A few weeks later — after many crazy enhanced experiences — Mary and I were asleep upstairs. By this time our Christmas decorations were up — holiday lights blazing, gifts snugly in place around the tree — a gentle snowfall lulled me into memories of past Christmases — simpler times — we were all together — Mary’s dear mom was still with us — we lost her this year — I like to remember those simpler days — sometimes with a little effort I can almost see them — a happier time, much happier.
Suddenly, we heard some bustling and noise downstairs. “What the…?!?”
I threw on a robe — I sleep with the device on now — and bolted downstairs. Good thing too — there were people around the tree mauling the Christmas presents. One looked sort of like Santa — the other his female sidekick. His red suit was worn, musty (was that a urine odor?) — and what’s with the Stevie Wonder-like dark glasses? And the way he held his head smiling upward in a rocking fashion? The sidekick was disheveled, hair crazy, tangled. I startled them, of course — and they ran for it — straight out the front door. Turns out their “sleigh” was a late model Pontiac — not a hybrid — and it was full of our gifts and other sundry stuff — including toilet paper and flatware — flatware? By this time, Mary was down the stairs too — she couldn’t see them — but she could see the idling Pontiac (wonder why?).
Mary made it to the car first. Santa — btw apparently he wasn’t blind after all as he took the front porch stairs three at a time — was sitting in the back — his helper in the driver’s seat. Mary — humoring me about my Santa and helper enhanced experience — pounded on the Pontiac yelling, “Why Santa? Why?”
Santa slumped low in the back mumbled to Ms. Claus, “Just go. Just go.”
We wouldn’t let them, though. We held our ground — talked and talked — until eventually kinder, saner heads prevailed. The vibe actually completely changed when Mary thought to invite us all back into the house for Nespresso’s and fudge. We talked and laughed about their attempted theft of our stuff until they got comfortable. Then when they were full and unguarded I decided to capture and save that precious loving togetherness Christmas moment — I wrapped them both tightly in colored cellophane tied with lovely colored ribbon and bows. Now, in the front yard we have the coolest — most life-like — Santa and Ms. Claus outdoor Christmas decorations you have ever seen. Just wait — you’ll definitely agree once you get your device. Promise.
