I doubt it very much. 🙂 Seems like a waste of food. I suppose it’s always possible, if I was angry enough (or had some other reason).
That was the latest WordPress ‘post a week 2011’ prompt, if you were wondering.
It makes me wonder though… there are so many things I wouldn’t normally dream of doing, that other people have done or do regularly! Impulsively, as children, or without even thinking. I’m a goody two-shoes, maybe, but I don’t know why that’s such a bad thing…
I haven’t been on the computer a lot lately; it seemed so dark and cold at the back of this room. For several days I didn’t even turn the computers on.
Suddenly thought of science fiction shows… Star Trek, Stargate or Babylon 5. People sitting in dark shadows with glowing computer screens. Communicating with each other, or doing painstaking research. A lot of the light on my face and hands is from this screen… spooky, strange. Anything could happen… somebody invisible could be swooping around the room! Maybe my messages are being intercepted by some starship full of aliens. And with a whoosh, a portal will open in the wall, and when I look through, there’s a raging snow storm in another world.
Instead, it’s just shadowy and gloomy, and I type in the glow of
Excuse me, I’m not kidding. I got that far, and there was a ‘boing’ and a thud, and cold air… somebody standing behind my chair. I twisted round, and it was Mum, scowling crossly and holding a notepad. (I didn’t hear her come in because, no hearing aids!) I felt stupid about this message I was typing, so I chivvied her out into the hall saying I didn’t have a pen (I didn’t. They disappear). But I found a pen in my bedroom, the one I write my personal journal with at night.
The ‘alien’ wrote down: “Fancy having a gigantic desk and no pencil! If you are up early tomorrow we can go to Morrisons.”
I can’t wait.
Something I keep wishing we had is an automatic treatment unit in every house. I probably read about something like this in Ringworld by Larry Niven. Every morning you could step inside, and it would scan for irregularities and make any adjustments necessary. Cracked tooth? Repaired without pain or extraction. Furry arteries? Sweetly cleared. A tumour just starting to form? Safely zapped in seconds.
No need to worry your family with these mundane details – they’re carrying out similar checks and changes on themselves.
Broken bone? Beautifully straightened and set without pain. Poor hearing? Tuned to perfect pitch! Failing kidneys? Repaired, as good as new!
No need to go to hospital, sit for hours in waiting rooms and have tests… only for the doctors to say they don’t know what’s wrong with you, or they do know what’s wrong with you and can’t fix it, or they thought they knew what was wrong with you but got it wrong.
A treatment unit in the corner of your own bedroom would be lovely from an agoraphobic point of view especially – not having to go out to the GP, optician or dentist. Fewer people milling about in buses and on the roads (not having to go out to be treated). And just think – no more valuable land given over to grim hospital buildings and sprawling, expensive car parks. No more people catching superbugs they wouldn’t have caught if they hadn’t gone near those places.
I suppose it would be worrying if the technology really was that good, then one day you stepped inside your treatment unit and it said “sorry for any inconvenience, but you cannot be repaired.”
Imagine a society which has evolved beyond our current laws and adds the option of self-euthanasia. “You cannot be repaired. Your heart will self-destruct in 66 hours, unless you choose self-euthanasia.”
Panicking, you click on Y, and it says “are you sure?”
Some weeks later, it is realized that your treatment unit had a bug and wasn’t working properly. The engineers responsible are being sued to the hilt, but that’s no comfort for your grieving family and friends.
That sounds more like real life…. unfortunately.
I met a gigantic worm a few days ago, thumping determinedly across the path in the hot sunshine. This creature was the General Woundwort of worms, as big as a small snake, and it wriggled so fast I believed it would make it into the grass at the other side of the path in minutes. It seemed to know where it was going. But people and dogs are even faster, and the next person round the corner (or a crow from the tree) might be less friendly to invertebrates than I am.
Therefore I moved it into the grass. How it fought! It lashed and squirmed angrily. Once in the grass, it lay coiled and raised its sharp snout, weaving warily, as though tasting our presence in the air. Thundercloud was so amazed she strained towards it, her ears pricked and paws scrabbling. I didn’t let her near it, but what a fighter that worm was – amongst its fellows it must have a name like Leafbane or Rootcleaver.
Battlestar Galactica is enjoyable so far, though it suffers from deliberate camera wobble – very annoying. It distracted me from something Apollo said at a key moment – it zoomed in on his face in three short, sharp bursts, and then he said…? I couldn’t remember.
One of those moments I hate: when I’m putting the top back on a screw-top jar or bottle, and it spins out of my hand and clatters onto the floor – inner side down.
Contradictions? When I was a child I thought (as children do) that everything was good or bad, black or white, and I didn’t realize people could change their minds and thrash about in grey areas. It seemed to me my mother was very contradictory and it confused me. Now of course, I’m just the same. Anyway, the other day I picked out a pair of minty green summer slacks, and she said “yes, that’s nice.” Then she said “no wait – they’re too short for you.”
A little surprised, as I tend not to worry much about the length of these things, I put them back and kept browsing. Mum approached with another minty green garment from the same range, except that this was a three-quarter length pair – summer crop.
“There – THESE will look nice on you,” she said.
I laughed at her – “you tell me the last ones are too short, then bring me a pair that’s even shorter!”
“Yes, I know, but I prefer these to full-length trousers which aren’t long enough.”
Just now I was watching something about water shortage (on Tonight with Trevor McDonald). When the grim thing was over, I got up and went into the kitchen and suddenly noticed… rain on the window! I rushed over and opened the door, and it had been coming down in sheets for a wee while, judging by the level of dampness. The smell of the wet earth rose up around me, and cool drops splashed on my face.
I finished Orion last night, and this morning started a fresh Ben Bova paperback: Star Watchman. So far it’s very readable.
I’m trying to weed books out of the bookcases in the sitting room. I need space for the books that don’t have homes yet, and I’ll only let them go after I’ve read them. So emptying the bookcases is somewhat slow, as I spend much of my time on the computer, walking dogs, editing, watching TV, washing cat bedding, peeling potatoes, writing snaky things in my journal, drowsing on the sofa… anyway, there’s a small gap in one bookcase now that I’ve removed two of the Ben Bovas. Exciting!
I better not tell all my homeless books, otherwise they’ll tear each other in the mad stampede to fill the gap. Makes me think of the sheer number of humans beings and the lack of good jobs and housing… and the hoops people have to jump through to get either.
My cat Sharky has a new game. I began it by teasing him one day and now he initiates it. He goes up on the window sill behind the red curtain and starts dabbing me through the folds. I jab him back, in different places, and he tries to catch my fingers with paws and teeth. He must see my shadow as he’s so good at it. It’s odd when I feel a ring of teeth close on my fingers… but they don’t bite! My cat L. used to be much more ferocious – if you played one of these games with him and he caught you, you needed antiseptic cream and a plaster. I don’t think he did it to be cruel – he played rough.
His mother is just the same.