Connected

Connected[TELLING]

By Mordecai J Banda

A man was on a date with a woman. He asked her what she wanted to eat impatiently, because she is taking her time. She delayed, and when he asked her again, she explained that her delay was because she was running the question through an electronic implant in her brain, a Nexam, that is apparently wide spread in this era. She took a long time to finally decide which meal is appropriate for the occasion, and when finally she told the waiter the choice, The waiter delayed, and when the man impatiently asked him why, the waiter told him that he was deciding the best route to the kitchen and the best way to ask for a tip.

After some time after the date, the man is walking home and he engages in a monologue about how much he hates the world as it is. He says that everything is done through computer, and comments on a few things he noticed at how impersonal the Nexam device is. The man is on the way home, and on the way he takes the metro. He notices some more things on how everyone is affected by Nexam. He arrives at his street, and does some more monologue. He phrases some questions in frustration and comments that rather than speeding up and enhancing connection between people, Nexam causes delays and makes everything dull and senseless. When he finally arrives at home, he ends the story with a mechanical signature, hypocritically showing that he in fact embraces technology.

WORD COUNT: 255

Connected[SHOWING]

By Mordecai J Banda

“Please… Give me time to think.”

“I just asked you what you are going to have.”
My date looked distracted, as she held up one finger against her temple and looked at me with a frown. A beautiful one,

“You’ve got to understand… I have to choose the perfect choice.”

“Why? Why can’t you just do it, it’s not as if the world would-”

My date sighed explosively, “I thought it would be interesting to date someone who doesn’t use a Nexam, but this is getting tedious.”
That is apparently an acceptable thing to say on a date. I leaned forward and smiled slightly, “I’m still handsome, though.”
She shot me another distracted glance, “Fairly… I checked. You rank a 74.39 percent.”

I guess I shouldn’t be offended, but it’s never good to hear the hard cold facts run through complex calculations. The damn Nexam, and its capabilities. Everyone has one nowadays.

My date finally brought her hand away from her temple, and smiled sweet, luscious lips at me, “Okay, I’ll have today’s second special, Lasagne Extravaganza.”

I sighed in relief, and said to the nearby hovering waiter, “You heard her. Today’s number two special. I’ll have a pepperoni pizza.”
The waiter and my date looked disapproving, I said sternly, “I don’t care about calories, okay?”

The waiter nodded, and took a step away, then paused. He just stood there, holding the notepad against his waistcoat and looking in the air. I waited a whole minute before finally clearing my throat,

“You mind getting our orders?” I asked.

The waiter looked at me blankly. I repeated the question in a controlled voice, “Could you please get our orders?”

The waiter snapped out of it, “Sorry, sir, I was conferring on the fastest route to the kitchen. And how I could ask for a tip without seeming too impolite.”


The date was over, I had walked out in the middle of it when she started discussing the most appropriate topics for a first date.

“You know, when I was a girl, I loved picking my nose a lot.”

I had choked slightly on my drink, “Why would you tell me that?”

She had frowned in confusion, “This dating service says-”

“Are you interested in me as a person, or are you going to run everything through that damn machine?”

In response to that she had looked hurt and confused, and I had had hopes about finally talking sense, when she had put her finger against her temple…

Now I was out squelching over a rubber matted sidewalk, just an insignificant guy in the flurry of snow and activity, but I was in my own world. A world that didn’t need a damn computer chip giving me the best results.
I mean, how amazing is Nexam anyway? Give a greeting to a stranger, and he’s already running the numbers on whether your trustworthy or not. Take an interview, and they’re running numbers based on your voice fluctuations and online data. In that way, we’re connected. They’re motto says. I know one thing for sure, there was no way in heck I’m getting any inch of computer stuck in my brain, it just won’t happen.
During my thoughts I arrived on the rubbery steps down into the metro station. I descended these, and I brushed past people. Most were in groups, and yet most were silent. They were running numbers, or having an online chat. That happened. I had seen a preaching service done like that once. The smiling multitutude had swayed to silent digital songs. I fled that one.

After descending the steps, I waited for the train. It rolled in after a few seconds, and I walked in, followed by a small throng of people. The doors hissed closed, and it started off. However, I remained standing to make sure I would be off as soon as it stopped.
Relative silence was broken by the sound of a child started wailing. I looked at the toddler, who was crying in his mother’s arms. The mother looked blank, holding the boy loosely, then she glanced at me mournfully, “I don’t know where to find the right information. Where do I get help for this? Where?”

“Why don’t you try singing him something, or rocking him?” I suggested softly. The woman looked blank, then smiled tiredly, “These Nexams, they’re for your generation. Thank you.”
She rocked the baby to sleep with Silent Night. The train rattled on, then a speaker announced,

“We are arriving at Lloyd Street and 44th. Lloyd Street and 44th. That was my stop. I stepped closer to the door as the train gradually slowed to a halt. The sliding pillars and figures of people outside the view glass stopped as well, and the people clambered in as the doors hissed open. I struggled through the mass and onto the cold rubber matted floor of the metro, then I headed up the rubber steps. Someone tapped me on my shoulder. I turned to see that it was the woman, she smiled, “I forgot to ask, what link did you use?”

“I didn’t use a link. I don’t have one.” At her sympathetic face I added, “Nexams are useless.”
She looked shocked, I walked away as the baby began crying again. She had held him loosely again, forgetting her own family, to consult the computer in her brain, just like all the damn mothers depending on that thing.

I reached the top of the stairs, and looked around. Lloyd and 44th is good in the way that it stays antiquated. I like the fact that there are some trees here, a little park, and a good, old style chapel. People here are no different, though. They have Nexam. All of them do. I hate it. I hate all this technology. Why should socializing be on some plane somewhere, in short, disspationate strings of omgs and lol’s? Why should the best possible choice be the only choice? Why should percentiles determine my handsomeness?

I sighed and looked down at the rubber sidewalk. Technology. It’s supposed to make everything simple, faster, more connected, but in truth we’ve got a wider chasm for all the trouble. Ironically, lately all I’ve been seeing are delays from people consulting the damn things. Everything they speak has been verified by some amount of people or whatever, and is not a private, original thought. Everything I hear nowadays is dull… Sensless.

I crossed the street when it was clear enough to do so, as they’re no robots to help. I then walked up the steps of my rented house. I opened the door, and walked in.

E-Log#0032.Manses.Frank.0935HRS/05/05/13


WORD COUNT: 1,114