Friday, July 11, 2008

Just Another Crackpot

"Shhh!" He said, adjusting his hat - it looked like one of those ones you used to make out of newspaper, only it was tinfoil. "They're listening!"
"Who?" I asked, taking the nozzle out of the pump cradle, and sticking it into my car's gas-hole.
"The Government!"
"Really?" I inquired.
"Every single day. Electronically."
"Well," I began, "There certainly are a lot of electronics around." I watched the pump numbers race by at an astounding rate.
"That's why I've thrown 'em all away." He looked back and forth, and then peered suspiciously over the gas pump, creeping out a young woman using (one of the three absolutely free things you can still find in America) the station's dingy squeegee on her car windows. He dropped down in a crouch. "Reducing my digital footprint. I just use the post office for every communication."
"Ahh," I mumbled knowingly, "but the Post office has a device that scans envelope-glue for tongue DNA. That's not at all safe."
"Seriously?" He questioned.
"Sure! And what about a radio, you have one?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"It's electronic - probably surveilling you daily. If I were the government, I'd use clocks. They're everywhere! Crap!" I pointed accusingly at his wrist. "You've got a watch!"
"My God!" He said, crouching lower and rapidly unfastening the band around his wrist. He began worriedly scanning about for suspicious characters. His eyes fastened on an old woman getting off the bus, carrying too many shopping bags. "I never even thought of that."
"Sure," I continued, "Lotsa' stuff they probably use...youknow signals are coming out of my cell phone right now, they're probably listening to our conversation as we speak."
"Turn it off! Turn it off!" He cried.
I hated to admit it to myself, but I was enjoying this.
"What good would it do...this gas pump is sending signals going through you right now - it's probably already mapped your brain structure, and is comparing it with the NSA database."
"The gas pumps!" He exclaimed in horror.
"Yep. If not them...well, my ride's too old, but look at these cars here at the station." I nodded towards a new Honda, a Lexus, and a Jetta. "All of them got powerful computers on-board. Heck, probly most are linked to some sort of satellite - OnStar, GPS...why they already know you're exact location, triangulated within millimeters!"
"But on foot - surely I can evade them..." He hissed, trying to keep some logic of his paranoia in check. Meanwhile, I couldn't believe I had already pumped more than forty bucks worth of gas.
"Oh sure..." I began again, Except there are sensors under the street to control the traffic lights - which of course, detect you passing - and relay it to the grid. Oh, and don't ever use the crosswalk activation buttons!"
"Why?!?" He cowered down a little more, which appeared to me to be previously impossible.
"Fingerprint analyzers! And don't even get me started on those things that open the doors for you at the grocery stores!"
"I never even thought of them," his eyes peered up at me in horror. "What," he asked with trepidation, "do they do?"
"Thought-scanners!" I spoke menacingly. "Just make sure you clear your mind of all thoughts before you go through one. Even the slightest idea like, 'I want oranges' will allow them to follow your neurons deep into your memory cells, connecting it with all your impressions about oranges, which in all likelihood will connect up with memories about other fruits, which in turn will lead them to all your memories connected to everything associated with fruit. It goes on and on until they know everything you've ever thought...or they just get bored."
The pump handle automatically clicked, telling me I had filled my tank. I could barely believe it was near fifty bucks. I stuck the nozzle back in its holder, and put the cap on my tank.
"What can we do?" He wondered in a defeated tone.
"Nothin'" I replied, getting into my car. "It's all about volume."
"What do you mean?"
"There's three-hundred million people in America, there's no way anyone can make sense of that much data. And take off that stupid hat, if they're watching you there's no use in looking like a crackpot, as for me, I'd rather look like a model and make 'em want to look-and-be, more like me!"
I shot him a crazy smile, fired up my ride, and drove off slowly. I watched him in the mirror as he stood up straight with a sense of regained dignity and pride. He took off his tinfoil hat, crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the gas-station trashcan, and walked off resolutely facing his omniscient surveillance. My cell rang.
"Yellow!" I spoke happily into the speaker.
"Target acquired!" A happy voice said back to me. "Oh, another tinfoil case at 322 Beasly Ave. howabout getting over there pronto!"
"Okey-doke." I said. "Amazing how a tinfoil hat scrambles our billion dollar junk, huh?"
"Yep." The voice on the other end said. "Crazy how easy you get people to take 'em off."
"Hah! I just tell 'em the truth! Good thing there ain't a company like Starter making tinfoil-lined baseball caps, huh?"
The voice on the other end got serious for a minute.
"Let's not go giving anyone any ideas. Besides, this isn't a secure line."

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