By: Judy Forney
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I was frightened. Terrified, actually. My husband said it was a fluke.
“Judy, it’s just your wacky current.”
“My what?”
“You know, your personal electromagnetic vibes. It’s not like they’re strong enough to drop planes from the sky…”
“Or foul up a beach side cop’s radar gun…”
“Right, but they’re obviously strong enough to mess with anything around here that runs on electricity. Aren’t you always telling me the microwave beeps at you mindlessly? The computer is just another small household appliance. Somehow, you’ve piggybacked onto some stranger’s internet search.”
But I knew my hubby was wrong. Something much more sinister was going on. You see, when I’d lifted my laptop’s lid, powered up, and logged on, I discovered someone, or something, had the ability to read my mind! I was afraid for my very soul. Or at least I feared for a stress-free shopping experience online.
The afternoon had begun, innocently enough, with a pair of sneakers. I’m a shoe nut. Yeah, I know it’s a cliché, but I’m a girl that can’t get enough canvas and leather to wrap her feet in. I figure that’s O.K., though. I’m not a particularly predictable person, so what’s the harm in adhering to one little stereotype? I’ve bought a ton of toe tappers from Shoes.com. I wear a size 7 medium, except in tennis shoes, which I need in a 7 narrow. Anyway, I’d logged on to the shoe site and was trying to decide between two pair. I figured the good folks at Shoes.com recognized me and knew my sizes and that’s why slipper suggestions were popping up on the screen as I shopped. I didn’t mind that, but then the thing happened, and I was scared!
You see, I’d jumped over to check an online auction, and there, scrolling across my screen, was a gallery of pictures…all of them tennis shoes in size 7 narrow! O.K., I told myself, breathe. I mean I have bought and sold on Ebay. But that had been toy robots, tiki mugs, and movie junk. Not shoes. How had the site known sneakers where on my mind? The only answer, of course, was that it had scanned my thoughts and sucked them from my brain!
“But honey, look…it knew what I was thinking about!”
“Seriously Judy, it’s just a coincidence.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. I’d understand scrolling wind up toys or Orchid of Hawaii mugs, but not sneakers. The computer wants me to want tennis shoes!”
“Well that’s a novel way to convince yourself you need another pair…”
“Very funny, dear.”
I IM’d a friend and told her of my terror. She wasn’t any help. She agreed, mostly, with my other half. She called it my chi, or chow or something, interacting with the world around me. Whatever. I reminded her that I hadn’t had any chow around the stupid machine since the night of the Great Chardonnay Flood of the Keyboard Region. No, I frantically typed to her, evil was emanating from each and every one of my screen’s fifteen inches. Why wouldn’t she believe me? She answered that maybe I should surf over to a different site…or better yet, give the wine another try. “Just sip slowly,” was the last message I received from her.
Well, I figured, what could surfing hurt? I brought Amazon.com up on my screen. Right under the menu bar, there was a message for me. The site had “suggestions.” The computer thought it knew what I wanted! With a trembling hand I reached for my mouse and clicked on the missive.
“Honey…”
“Gawd, those things are ugly. Why’d anyone want to stroll around town with plastic egg crates on their feet? Tell me you’re sticking with the sneakers.”
“It’s not about the shoes. I want the computer to vacate my head! I’m terrified to take the volume off ‘mute.’ I just know the thing will start talking to me. You know, like Hal, from ’2001 Space Odyssey’? Or that mainframe that caused Matthew Broderick all that trouble in ‘War Games’?”
“Calm down. I don’t really think we have a world crisis situation here. I bet it’s like, ‘National Buy a Pair of Pumps Day’ or something…”
“Oh, please, like I wouldn’t have already decked the shoe tree for that holiday…”
“Well, I still say it’s either a weird coincidence or your freaky vibe has gotten some wires crossed somewhere. I think your friend was right, though. You do need a glass of wine.”
“Maybe…”
“I’ll get us both one.”
“K. I’m going back and ordering the tennis shoes.”
“Are you sure you dare?”
“Ha, ha, dear.”
I heard an answering chuckle, but it wasn’t an exactly human sound. Of course neither was the echoing beep-beep-beep coming from our microwave…
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