First off, I’m proud to have such friends with imagination, intellect, creativity, diction and syntax. Secondly, I think Jason should send an application and portfolio to Popular Science magazine as a writer, editor, contributor, or even researcher. You know, he could be the guy who gets his jewels hooked up to several joules in the name of science.
Jason -“So this is painless right?”
Taser Development Representative – “Uh...Yeah…, ok now everyone else put on your protective goggles!”
Having the type of technology that does one’s work for him is nothing new. Why do you think Eli Whitney invented the cotton gin? Well, ok, the cotton gin did someone else’s work for him, so that those other people could get back out into the fields to break their backs while Mr. Whitney sat inside and read. But hey, if you’re the only one on the farm who can read, why break your back?
But technology taking away our burdens… yeah, I think I see where you’re going with this. Imagine the world of Bob;
Bob wakes up at 6:54am every morning. He walks into his bathroom and sits down on the throne. No, not the porcelain throne, but the new electromagnetic pulse, inverse gravity formation throne, the bathroom of the future. You see when Bob walks into his bathroom, the room is completely empty. Bob yawns, stretches his arms above his head, turns and sits down. Into thin air. The Gravithrone activates and forms an invisible chair before his rump strikes the tile, seating him comfortably on electric magnet pulsations. Several tiles open in the wall, and out comes mechanical arms to do the bidding of human hygiene in the 21st century. You see the year is 2030 and ever since Emperor Obama quadrupled the taxation of white people in his 3rd term, advances in what’s known as “Lazy Science” traveled fathoms beyond the Welfare and Abortion initiatives of his 2nd term. You see there was more money to be shared among the populace, and what better way to spend it than on the Dr. Fry inventions?
But back to Bob’s morning; Bob’s shave and shower are completed seamlessly, so he walks into his closet to choose an outfit. He pauses briefly at the closet door for the biometric lock to allow him access. His fingerprint, retinal scan, voice recognition, microchip scan, signature sample and blood sample analysis sometimes get repetitive, as this same lock is on every door in his house, including the refrigerator, but the way Bob figures, he’s got plenty of blood and you can’t be too safe.
Bob’s wardrobe choices are somewhat limited this morning. You see his neighbor’s lawn sprinkler is on, and Bob’s perimeter weather scanner thinks it is raining outside, so his closet automatically limits his choices to shorts, a tank top, a rain jacket and rain boots. If Bob tries to open the clothes vault he could get impaled and electrocuted by one of many booby-traps, so he lets the closet do its thing. Bob wears a suit everyday to work, except when his neighbor’s sprinklers are on, then he usually has to buy a suit on his way to work. This isn’t too hard though, because the Gravithrone keeps good measurements of Bob’s dimensions and uploads them to his iphone daily. If the iphone is placed into his plastic raincoat pocket, it automatically senses the closet’s error and sends an order to Brooks Brothers for a new suit, which should be tailored and ready in 20 minutes. Bob makes a mental note to sue his neighbor for impairing his lifestyle but then realizes why he gets so many new suits every spring. This is his fourth this month.
Bob grabs some breakfast on the way to the garage, pausing for a few more needle pricks from the biometric locks on the fridge and garage door. He savors his breakfast tablet and the flavor of eggs, sausage and pancakes reminds him of cafeteria food from college, but without all the grease and carcinogenic compounds that later put Aramark out of business. Yes, I said breakfast tablet, Willy Wonka IV is the Director of the FDA in 2030.
Despite the fact that Bob is wearing a raincoat and shorts to work, his day is about to get a little interesting. And it all started with a little harmless flirting at a bar the night before.
“You think I could get your number?” Bob asked, extending his phone with an inviting grin.
“Sure,”she replied. He looked healthy enough, and she really liked the suit he was wearing, it looked brand new. The conversation was entertaining and he seemed nice. Bob set his iPhone down on the bar in front of her and leaned back, his heart racing. The young brunette reached into her purse and pulled out her new iPhone, throwing him a sultry look. She gently set her phone on top of his, letting her hand linger for an extra moment, until finally letting go. For a brief second the two just stared into each others eyes, until the silence was broken by the sound of both phones buzzing.
“Oh!”, she gasped after being startled. Her phone buzzed so abruptly that it slid right off the other phone and fell to the floor.
Bob was a little embarrassed. “Wow, I’m..terribly sorry!”, he stuttered as he scrambled to pick her phone
“No, no, it was my fault!”
She quickly gathered her things and stood.
“I’m sorry, I have to go, but it was great meeting you”, she said as she slipped away into the crowded bar.
Bob looked down at his iPhone. The buzzing had stopped. He picked it up and began scrolling through the menu to the contacts. There she was, listed as her screen name. ‘Foxyldy10’. He clicked on view and began to scroll through the statistics. 34 years old, c-cup, hates cats, likes sushi.
Wow, he thought to himself, my kinda woman..
Ever since Gapple (the Google-Apple conglomerate) released wireless charging and peer to peer contact sharing in 2015, the bar scene developed a new type of social interaction. Some call it ‘cell-swap’, others call it ‘iSex’, but regardless of its name, a new form of intimacy emerged among strangers. Bob hadn’t gotten quite used to the rules of etiquette regarding iSex, but at least he wasn’t throwing his iPhone into a large bowl at parties like his old frat brothers were doing. Some of them would even walk past co-workers’ desks and place their phones on top of those of attractive females with a little slight of hand, a modern phone rape, one might say.
It wasn’t just a phone number and personal description being exchanged. A cell-swap included facebook profile, blogspot links, credit rating and medical records. Potential mates could check one another’s propensity for genetic disorders like sickle cell anemia, or down syndrome, even color-blindness! (However there are huge tax breaks if you child is color blind, and he’s guaranteed a college scholarship and a government job of his or her choice. It has to do with ending racial disparity, but I say it leads to more car accidents at stoplights). Gapple is even working with Gravithrone to make the drag and drop option that you see on Googlemaps available for the human body. Just imagine, you want to show someone how you look naked, give them a cell-swap and tell them to drop the little blue guy on your penis. Zoom in if you want to.
The only thing about cell-swap is it still hasn’t been perfected and you can very easily transmit viruses to one another. Its like an iSTD. In fact, the main thing that Gapple is having problems with is interfacing the Gravithrone without the viruses. In the early testing phase, participants who contracted an iSTD through their phones actually got a real STD the next time they sat on the Gravithrone in the bathroom. Trojan is working with Norton anti-virus to make an Iphone condom.
Well, back to Bob’s morning. Bob was on his way to work in his Honda Utero, which runs on fetuses of aborted babies. Newsweek called it the greenest car ever built. The vehicle drives itself so Bob can catch up on the Times, printed in e-ink. The 20 minute commute to the Brooks Brothers store was over in no time, and Bob only had to reach out the window to pick up the suit, it had already been charged to his credit card, thanks again to his phone. He decided he’ll get dressed in the office, since there’s no time to spare. A strange electric-chemical reaction from the latex-free raincoat and the e-ink newspaper causes a small explosion in the vehicle, and Bob is very mildly burned. This morning seems to be taking a strange turn, Bob thinks to himself. Oh well, at least I have free global healthcare…
Since there are no vehicles allowed in the city, Bob’s car parks itself at the subway stop. Bob walks away from his car and it locks itself. However when Bob’s train passes by below, his proximity key unlocks the vehicle and thieves take all of his Honda’s possessions. Bob’s phone seems to be acting funny. He usually gets advertisements for coffee and sports tailored to his exact preferences, but as he walks out of the subway stop he keeps getting pop-ups for gay porn and penis enhancing pills. He walks past a newsstand and the phone automatically scans every e-book and e-print, causing a virtual memory overload in the phone. Bob will spend an extra hour cleaning up the 500GB of unwanted junk files that his phone just accumulated on its own.
Work was uneventful until Bob found out that his 5 credit cards had been maxed out and his social security number now belonged to someone named Pedro Gonzales. Mr. Gonzales was now filing a lawsuit against Bob for identity theft, and Bob’s boss asked him to take the rest of the day off so he could think about how to clean up his act.
Bob couldn’t understand why this was happening. As he closed the door to his Honda he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. More pop-ups. Suddenly the car seat slammed Bob into the steering wheel, and the heat turned on full blast. The car lurched forward and peeled out of the parking garage, racing home at nearly 200 mph while blaring rap music through the 3,000 watt stereo. These aren’t my user settings, Bob was thinking, and where’s all my stuff?
Bob arrived home frazzled, dazed and sweaty and decided he needed a shower. He sat down in the Gravithrone for a nice rinse, when suddenly the tiles opened on the walls and mechanical arms shot out, grabbing all four appendages. Apparently the same virus that attacked his phone and car now had control of the Gravithrone. The door slammed shut, all the lights went dark and the silence caught Bob off-guard. Suddenly a blinding spotlight appeared from above, shining directly into Bob’s color-blind eyes. A deep voice boomed from the Dolby digital surround sound speakers that Bob had installed for movies and said, “BOB. WELCOME TO GUANTANAMO BATHROOM!”
Bob spent the next few days enduring waterboarding and light depravation amongst other psychological torture that his bathroom implemented with sadistic pleasure until Gapple security updates were downloaded by his phone, and the virus was quarantined. Will Bob ever get his credit rating repaired, or retrieve his SSN? Tune in next week to find out.
Jason -“So this is painless right?”
Taser Development Representative – “Uh...Yeah…, ok now everyone else put on your protective goggles!”
Having the type of technology that does one’s work for him is nothing new. Why do you think Eli Whitney invented the cotton gin? Well, ok, the cotton gin did someone else’s work for him, so that those other people could get back out into the fields to break their backs while Mr. Whitney sat inside and read. But hey, if you’re the only one on the farm who can read, why break your back?
But technology taking away our burdens… yeah, I think I see where you’re going with this. Imagine the world of Bob;
Bob wakes up at 6:54am every morning. He walks into his bathroom and sits down on the throne. No, not the porcelain throne, but the new electromagnetic pulse, inverse gravity formation throne, the bathroom of the future. You see when Bob walks into his bathroom, the room is completely empty. Bob yawns, stretches his arms above his head, turns and sits down. Into thin air. The Gravithrone activates and forms an invisible chair before his rump strikes the tile, seating him comfortably on electric magnet pulsations. Several tiles open in the wall, and out comes mechanical arms to do the bidding of human hygiene in the 21st century. You see the year is 2030 and ever since Emperor Obama quadrupled the taxation of white people in his 3rd term, advances in what’s known as “Lazy Science” traveled fathoms beyond the Welfare and Abortion initiatives of his 2nd term. You see there was more money to be shared among the populace, and what better way to spend it than on the Dr. Fry inventions?
But back to Bob’s morning; Bob’s shave and shower are completed seamlessly, so he walks into his closet to choose an outfit. He pauses briefly at the closet door for the biometric lock to allow him access. His fingerprint, retinal scan, voice recognition, microchip scan, signature sample and blood sample analysis sometimes get repetitive, as this same lock is on every door in his house, including the refrigerator, but the way Bob figures, he’s got plenty of blood and you can’t be too safe.
Bob’s wardrobe choices are somewhat limited this morning. You see his neighbor’s lawn sprinkler is on, and Bob’s perimeter weather scanner thinks it is raining outside, so his closet automatically limits his choices to shorts, a tank top, a rain jacket and rain boots. If Bob tries to open the clothes vault he could get impaled and electrocuted by one of many booby-traps, so he lets the closet do its thing. Bob wears a suit everyday to work, except when his neighbor’s sprinklers are on, then he usually has to buy a suit on his way to work. This isn’t too hard though, because the Gravithrone keeps good measurements of Bob’s dimensions and uploads them to his iphone daily. If the iphone is placed into his plastic raincoat pocket, it automatically senses the closet’s error and sends an order to Brooks Brothers for a new suit, which should be tailored and ready in 20 minutes. Bob makes a mental note to sue his neighbor for impairing his lifestyle but then realizes why he gets so many new suits every spring. This is his fourth this month.
Bob grabs some breakfast on the way to the garage, pausing for a few more needle pricks from the biometric locks on the fridge and garage door. He savors his breakfast tablet and the flavor of eggs, sausage and pancakes reminds him of cafeteria food from college, but without all the grease and carcinogenic compounds that later put Aramark out of business. Yes, I said breakfast tablet, Willy Wonka IV is the Director of the FDA in 2030.
Despite the fact that Bob is wearing a raincoat and shorts to work, his day is about to get a little interesting. And it all started with a little harmless flirting at a bar the night before.
“You think I could get your number?” Bob asked, extending his phone with an inviting grin.
“Sure,”she replied. He looked healthy enough, and she really liked the suit he was wearing, it looked brand new. The conversation was entertaining and he seemed nice. Bob set his iPhone down on the bar in front of her and leaned back, his heart racing. The young brunette reached into her purse and pulled out her new iPhone, throwing him a sultry look. She gently set her phone on top of his, letting her hand linger for an extra moment, until finally letting go. For a brief second the two just stared into each others eyes, until the silence was broken by the sound of both phones buzzing.
“Oh!”, she gasped after being startled. Her phone buzzed so abruptly that it slid right off the other phone and fell to the floor.
Bob was a little embarrassed. “Wow, I’m..terribly sorry!”, he stuttered as he scrambled to pick her phone
“No, no, it was my fault!”
She quickly gathered her things and stood.
“I’m sorry, I have to go, but it was great meeting you”, she said as she slipped away into the crowded bar.
Bob looked down at his iPhone. The buzzing had stopped. He picked it up and began scrolling through the menu to the contacts. There she was, listed as her screen name. ‘Foxyldy10’. He clicked on view and began to scroll through the statistics. 34 years old, c-cup, hates cats, likes sushi.
Wow, he thought to himself, my kinda woman..
Ever since Gapple (the Google-Apple conglomerate) released wireless charging and peer to peer contact sharing in 2015, the bar scene developed a new type of social interaction. Some call it ‘cell-swap’, others call it ‘iSex’, but regardless of its name, a new form of intimacy emerged among strangers. Bob hadn’t gotten quite used to the rules of etiquette regarding iSex, but at least he wasn’t throwing his iPhone into a large bowl at parties like his old frat brothers were doing. Some of them would even walk past co-workers’ desks and place their phones on top of those of attractive females with a little slight of hand, a modern phone rape, one might say.
It wasn’t just a phone number and personal description being exchanged. A cell-swap included facebook profile, blogspot links, credit rating and medical records. Potential mates could check one another’s propensity for genetic disorders like sickle cell anemia, or down syndrome, even color-blindness! (However there are huge tax breaks if you child is color blind, and he’s guaranteed a college scholarship and a government job of his or her choice. It has to do with ending racial disparity, but I say it leads to more car accidents at stoplights). Gapple is even working with Gravithrone to make the drag and drop option that you see on Googlemaps available for the human body. Just imagine, you want to show someone how you look naked, give them a cell-swap and tell them to drop the little blue guy on your penis. Zoom in if you want to.
The only thing about cell-swap is it still hasn’t been perfected and you can very easily transmit viruses to one another. Its like an iSTD. In fact, the main thing that Gapple is having problems with is interfacing the Gravithrone without the viruses. In the early testing phase, participants who contracted an iSTD through their phones actually got a real STD the next time they sat on the Gravithrone in the bathroom. Trojan is working with Norton anti-virus to make an Iphone condom.
Well, back to Bob’s morning. Bob was on his way to work in his Honda Utero, which runs on fetuses of aborted babies. Newsweek called it the greenest car ever built. The vehicle drives itself so Bob can catch up on the Times, printed in e-ink. The 20 minute commute to the Brooks Brothers store was over in no time, and Bob only had to reach out the window to pick up the suit, it had already been charged to his credit card, thanks again to his phone. He decided he’ll get dressed in the office, since there’s no time to spare. A strange electric-chemical reaction from the latex-free raincoat and the e-ink newspaper causes a small explosion in the vehicle, and Bob is very mildly burned. This morning seems to be taking a strange turn, Bob thinks to himself. Oh well, at least I have free global healthcare…
Since there are no vehicles allowed in the city, Bob’s car parks itself at the subway stop. Bob walks away from his car and it locks itself. However when Bob’s train passes by below, his proximity key unlocks the vehicle and thieves take all of his Honda’s possessions. Bob’s phone seems to be acting funny. He usually gets advertisements for coffee and sports tailored to his exact preferences, but as he walks out of the subway stop he keeps getting pop-ups for gay porn and penis enhancing pills. He walks past a newsstand and the phone automatically scans every e-book and e-print, causing a virtual memory overload in the phone. Bob will spend an extra hour cleaning up the 500GB of unwanted junk files that his phone just accumulated on its own.
Work was uneventful until Bob found out that his 5 credit cards had been maxed out and his social security number now belonged to someone named Pedro Gonzales. Mr. Gonzales was now filing a lawsuit against Bob for identity theft, and Bob’s boss asked him to take the rest of the day off so he could think about how to clean up his act.
Bob couldn’t understand why this was happening. As he closed the door to his Honda he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. More pop-ups. Suddenly the car seat slammed Bob into the steering wheel, and the heat turned on full blast. The car lurched forward and peeled out of the parking garage, racing home at nearly 200 mph while blaring rap music through the 3,000 watt stereo. These aren’t my user settings, Bob was thinking, and where’s all my stuff?
Bob arrived home frazzled, dazed and sweaty and decided he needed a shower. He sat down in the Gravithrone for a nice rinse, when suddenly the tiles opened on the walls and mechanical arms shot out, grabbing all four appendages. Apparently the same virus that attacked his phone and car now had control of the Gravithrone. The door slammed shut, all the lights went dark and the silence caught Bob off-guard. Suddenly a blinding spotlight appeared from above, shining directly into Bob’s color-blind eyes. A deep voice boomed from the Dolby digital surround sound speakers that Bob had installed for movies and said, “BOB. WELCOME TO GUANTANAMO BATHROOM!”
Bob spent the next few days enduring waterboarding and light depravation amongst other psychological torture that his bathroom implemented with sadistic pleasure until Gapple security updates were downloaded by his phone, and the virus was quarantined. Will Bob ever get his credit rating repaired, or retrieve his SSN? Tune in next week to find out.
i got to the part where he sits in thin air - thought "wow, this is way out there and WAY to long for me to read..."...can you put it on Sparknotes for me? thanks bud =D
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