I portend a scary future. Once upon a time, somebody somewhere invented the cell phone. It was a fabulous invention even though one needed a backpack to carry it. At first cell phones were strictly used for talking. In time, you could send text messages. Nowadays, you can check your e-mail, surf the net, take pictures, and even shoot video.
It is addictive. At first it is just a convenience. You say to yourself, “OK. I’m only gonna use this for emergencies. As in when I get a flat tire in the middle of the Central Arizona desert in August and run out of water.” Soon, emergencies evolve to such catastrophic events as calling your next door neighbor to see what time the game starts.
When you first acquire a cell phone, you tell yourself that you will “never use it while driving.” But as anyone knows who has been sideswiped by a cell phone-talking-while driving-SUV-owner, this is not the case. You join their ranks.
Soon it consumes you. All your free time at work is on the Motorola. There, in your little cubicle…always checking your e-mail, and surfing the net, and texting, and filming.
Never talking or speaking with others. Just you and the phone.
The years go by. Cell phones get smaller. Friends leave. You forget how to carry on a normal conversation with people. You take the night shift and refer to the cubicle as your ‘cave.’ All your time is busy for you and the magic phone. This little shiny thing you got for your birthday.
You love working nights. You shun the day. Become introverted. Anti-social. Buy nothing but fast food. Never eat food from an actual grocery store anymore. Too many people.
Soon, the sight and smell of McDonalds, Wendys, and Burger King disgusts you. All you can stand now is Long John Silvers…and fish. You love the taste of fish. Lovely little fish. Dainty little fish. Precious fishes.
“Never thirsty, ever drinking,
All in mail, never clinking.”
More years go by. The cell obsession continues. You haven’t seen a dentist in years. You don’t want to. You are a fish-eating carnivore now.
And you grow fangs.
The cold clammy nights in your cave cause your hair to fall out and make your eyes bigger. Big eyes that see well in the dark and pica 3 font. Now you are a nocturnal creature. It is just you and your Motorola. Your birthday present. It consumes you. Always fondling and caressing your little silver toy. Only now you forget that this magical toy once was designed for talking.
Since nobody calls you anymore you simply play games and surf the net. Friendless, you hold your precious cell in the palms of your grubby little hands and repeat your private mantra.
“Ring! Ring! Ring!”
But nobody calls. Not even VISA. (You are on the no call list).
It is a mystery why nobody calls. It is a riddle you cannot solve. This bothers you since you’ve become rather adept at solving riddles.
Yet Life goes on. You eat more fish…and weep.
The ring tones and its eerie blue light amuse you till you’re mad. It’s got a new name now. Yes, yes…it’s your birthday present. It’s “My Precious.” Gollum…Gollum.