No Geek Rapture for Me_I'm Old School

by Jonelle Renald

  Which ended the dream. If it was a dream.

  When her cell phone chimed the alarm an hour later, Mia woke up able to remember every second of that disturbing dream. Even two days later, she could still recall every moment, every word, every feeling in the so-called dream. None of it faded from memory the way dreams usually do. Thinking about it immediately afterward, and ever since that time, the dream had been very strange, very un-dream-like. It felt more like a memory. Not like a dream. The circumstances in it had been concrete, no shifting of circumstances or place in the way that dream scenes behave, no irrational or physically impossible things taking place in it. The details, which were very specific, remained firmly in her memory, and none of the impressions had faded over time. And the specifics were so unique — she had never had a dream that took place with eyes tightly shut, the whole thing happening in a state in total darkness. Complete, utter darkness. She’d never even heard of a person who wasn’t already blind dreaming they couldn’t see anything for an entire dream. Also unusual was the way the dream had ended. She just blacked out and stopped dreaming in the blink of an eye. Well, “blacked out” would fit if her eyes been open, but in the darkness of having eyes shut, it was like she had suddenly lost consciousness and stopped dreaming.

  It was entirely disturbing how real, how like the experience of something that had actually happened this dream felt — even though she was sure no one had been in her house during the night. Home invasion circumstances seemed like a practical impossibility. She didn’t really think Skip and Ralph had gotten into her house that night/early morning. But she was having an emotional reaction after the fact like it had actually happened. There wasn’t anywhere where she felt safe or secure any more.

  In other disturbing news, she also had discovered that her computer at home was able to come on by itself. One night around midnight, trying to avoid sleep, she went downstairs to her study, planning to spend some time online. But when she got there, the computer was already on, the monitor glowing in the darkened room. She stopped in the doorway. What was this? Did automated updates to the operating system occur in the middle of the night? She said out loud, “This is too weird,” pressed down the power button until the computer switched off, and then went to read a book in the living room instead. The next day she ran a check on the hard drive, but the security software didn’t find any problems or viruses. Nothing was wrong. Just one more weird thing.

  And dimes. For weeks now, Mia had been finding dimes everywhere — at work, at her home. Dimes showing up on her desk in her cubicle, on the floor mat in her car, in the corner of her bathroom nearly every single day. If this was normal, why hadn’t she ever noticed them before? Maybe she was just tuned in to it now, remarking now on something so ordinary that previously it never used to register, something that before never even mattered enough to get her attention. People drop coins out of their purse or pockets all the time. But had she ever dropped so many coins before? Almost every day? She wasn’t doing anything differently, but for whatever reason, dimes were now showing up even in places where she wouldn’t bring money. Like in the bathroom. Or the kitchen. But maybe they had fallen out of her pocket even though she didn’t normally put change in her pockets. She couldn’t remember finding random coins like this previously, never this many strewn around coins. She checked in the zippered coin compartment of her billfold — mostly quarters and pennies, with just a few nickels and dimes. But no quarters or pennies ever ended up on the floor, just dimes. Only dimes. She began to loathe finding them, because each one reminded her that she was worried about invasions into her privacy, so she began throwing them away. The relief at doing something to protest the violation of her peace of mind was worth more than any small frugality.

  How could the discovery of a dime feel like an invasion of her privacy when it might have been something she had dropped herself? It was just a dime, so why did it feel like something more? This mental state was so upsetting. She made a decision — she wasn’t going to think about dimes anymore. She was imagining problems. Nothing was wrong, not really. And she chided herself for allowing something so trivial to cause such an upset. “Stop it! Stop thinking about people trespassing in your house and cubicle at work. What’s wrong with you!” But in spite of this determination, everything continued to feel odd, everything out of her control.

  The paranoia Mia was feeling was unwelcome, and it would not go away even though she worked at dispelling it. No matter how often she told herself there was no reason for her strange sense of being violated, the paranoia wouldn’t disappear. This stubborn notion that was so subjective yet persistent, based on mere suspicions, nothing tangible to offer as proof to herself or anyone else. Yet it wouldn’t go away. She didn’t know how to share the burden of what she was feeling because she knew what they would say. “You’ve lost your mind — not dimes!” In fact, she herself had a difficult time accepting that her assumption “somebody is doing something to me” was accurate. Her conclusion did not appear to be rational or even possible, and she refused to trust her own perceptions. Maybe it was simply her unhappiness with work manifesting in strange ways.

  To try to get a second (and more logical) perspective on her experiences, to start to figure out what was really happening, she tried calling Ellen Frazier, her good friend and roommate from college. But as she expected — it was what she thought she wanted — Ellen threw the cold water of rationality onto Mia’s notions right away, stating positively that there was nothing to these experiences, absolutely nothing.

  “Mia, you’ve told me about your suspicions and odd feelings. But I’ve not heard one bit of proof of anything strange happening to you, not one single bit. Nothing is happening to you. People aren’t plotting against you behind your back. In the normal routine of your life, you’ve allowed a few unusual dreams and your vivid imagination to run away with your feelings, get out of control. That’s all it is. Nothing to it.”

  But as she listened to this cold rationality, Mia realized Ellen’s assurances were based on the assumption, the bias, that normal is the only reality. And these reassurances that “everything is normal, everything is fine” weren’t at all what she wanted to hear. It surprised her, but she didn’t want to be talked out of her feelings. As the conversation progressed, Mia discovered that what she really wanted was to be believed.

  Ellen said, “You don’t seriously think that these people from work are dropping dimes around your cubicle, or that they get into your house in the middle of the night to pressure you, spy on you, and leave behind a few coins, do you?”

  Mia replied, “No. Maybe. No, I’m not saying that. I’m trying to say that my entire life feels like it has been invaded. That I’m not making it up. However and whenever it happened, these dreams feel like memories and not dreams. Like I’m remembering something that I don’t remember when I’m awake.”

  With that final attempt, she stopped talking about her troubles and moved on to another topic. She realized she had to give up trying to move Ellen off her repetition of “Everything is normal. You had a dream or two, dropped a few coins. What else could it be? Strange things don’t happen to people.” Mia could see that the phrases she was repeating had already been less than convincing, so why say them all over again?

  The conversation with Ellen didn’t have the result she had hoped for, but talking it out had been a good thing in one way. Mia realized there weren’t words in the English language capable of expressing how tangible, how exactly like reality this latest dream had been. Something real — not made up, not imagined. It felt so much like it had actually happened to her, and it felt that way no matter who didn’t believe her. Experiencing her determination to not be talked out of believing the dream (which she hadn’t expected) became a message to Mia. It forced her to face that deep down, she herself was convinced that this latest dream of being in the dark was the memory of an actual event. In spite of trying to talk herself out of
believing in it, in spite of someone she trusted trying to explain it away, she wouldn’t give up her conviction that something was happening to her. The only thing left to do was to admit it to herself. She needed to stop ignoring her own perceptions. Something strange had happened, was happening, to her. When or how, she had no idea. That it had happened exactly as she dreamed it she still had some doubts, but obviously she wasn’t willing to be persuaded it was nothing but imagination. She didn’t know exactly what was going on, but it was something, not nothing.

  Talking to Ellen had clarified a second thing for Mia — or at least it exposed the source of her confusion. She was stuck between two opposing ideas and couldn’t let go of either one, even though she knew and acknowledged that both concepts couldn’t both be true at the same time. Two mindsets were in conflict, but they both existed because they provided Mia with a way to cope with the strange episodes that were causing her mind to jump the rails. She could take mental refuge in one or the other when her mind was overwhelmed with the question, “What is happening to me?” The two mindsets were:

  MINDSET #1: The world is a normal and rational place. The problems Dr. Mia Marwitz is experiencing are the by-product of a toxic environment that exists in the iCon corporate workplace where persistent pressure is applied to force everyone to conform to the corporate culture and corporate way of thinking.

  MINDSET #2: The world appears to be a normal and rational place, but that is an illusion. Somebody (or somebodies, possibly the Kewl Kidz

  club at iCon) was working in secret, invading her privacy and consciousness to the extent that Dr. Mia Marwitz is no longer in control of her own mind and body. The invasions are real.

  Her challenge was that the two mindsets couldn’t both operate at the same time. In order to clarify her world, the one had to push the other out of the way. She could see the effects of the struggle between them and realized each one was trying to become the dominant worldview in her thinking. Each took a turn stepping forward, forcing the other one into the shadows. But neither one was powerful enough to make the other one completely disappear, neither was convincing enough to reign supreme in her mind.

  The majority of the time, she was trying to live as if MINDSET #1 was true while ignoring MINDSET #2 because this perspective made daily life (and sanity) easier. But dreams, events, or the actions of people at work would turn up that didn’t fit into this worldview. When MINDSET #1 was inadequate to offer an explanation, MINDSET #2 would shout, “See! I am right!” and take over her thinking for a time. But it was too difficult to keep up with MINDSET #2 and maintain a normal routine. If she truly believed in the second worldview, she would give notice at iCon and leave ASAP. But where was the solid proof that iCon was the source of her trouble? If she herself was the trouble, her problems would follow her no matter where she went. Leaving a good paying job in haste with so little proof to back up her suspicions made no sense. So instead of disrupting everything and leaving her job, she would decide to put MINDSET #1 back in place, and for a time it would provide a stolid comfort. This way of thinking would rule her mind until the next weird thing happened — then MINDSET #2 would re-emerge. The confusing reversals between these opposing poles in Mia’s mental orientation, the continual wobbling back and forth was impossible to deal with, but she did her best to cope and get through her days with a minimum of distress. All while trying to postpone sleep for as long as possible.

  As the days continued to tick by at work, the Kewl Kidz continued their campaign to charm her. Killing her with kindness, everyone in Communications started complimenting her whenever they came by her cubicle to chat, compliments that were extremely awkward and forced.

  — “I really like (look frantically around her cubicle) — your purse. It’s so cute!” (The same purse she’d had used almost daily for weeks.)

  — “I love the lunch you ordered today. Who would think of that a combination like that? So gourmet.” (She’d had a grilled cheese sandwich with tomato soup.)

  They also started asking her opinion on everything. Did they think she wanted to take charge of their decisions?

  — “I’m thinking about buying a new car. Or maybe leasing. What would you suggest?”

  — “See in this magazine? I saw them last time I was shopping. Chicago. The Loop. The sweetest stilettos, four inch heels, leopard print. Do you like them? What do you think? Should I drive back to Chicago and get them?”

  — “It’s getting warmer now. A really short hair cut would be good for summer. Should I go for it?”

  — “You’re such a great reader, Mia. Maybe I will follow your example and read a book this weekend. What would you recommend?”

  They started bringing her along as a member of the daily lunch trek to the iCon café to gather food for lunch and then haul it all back to the Communications conference room. Walking through the wide hallways in the HQ, conversation was awkward and strained. She knew something was up because they had stopped talking about the daily trials and tribulations of their favorite media celebrities, stopped making fun of people, stopped telling who was being an idiot and what they had done or said, stopped describing the effects of drinking too much of what kind of alcohol with what set of friends. For which she was grateful. But how would they know, and why would they care, how much those things had always annoyed her? She had never told them. There had to be a bigger reason behind a change like this. What explained the sudden change in their conversation? Nothing she could think of. It was just one more weird thing to add to the list of things that weren’t adding up.

  One day when Mia was eating lunch around the large conference room table with the Kewl Kidz, they started talking about privacy and snooping. Gretchen said, “Did you know that thousands of people have drones now? Not the military — regular people.”

  “Yes, I did know that!” Andie said. “My brother got one last Christmas. These new drones come with cameras, microphones.”

  Mia nodded in agreement. “I saw where a man was arrested for shooting down a drone hovering over his backyard, videotaping his teenage daughter. That doesn’t seem right. A person should be able to expect privacy on their own property.”

  “Well, I’m glad that there is a new tool for gathering intelligence so that we can be safe and secure from any and all terrorist attacks,” Benton said.

  “I have an idea that Big Brother is even happier about being able to monitor and then control the population,” Mia said.

  “Mia,” Skip said. “Listen. I want you to understand something. There’s no such thing as Big Brother. It would be much too expensive to implement a program to monitor every single individual person. It takes such a significant investment in labor and human assets that spying just can’t be done anymore. So it doesn’t make sense to believe that any one particular person is being watched. Groups, populations can be monitored, but not individuals. Just doesn’t happen.”

  Directed specifically at her, Skip’s little speech made no sense at all in the context of a twenty-first century world. They had just talked about how easy it would be to monitor someone by going to a big box store and buying a drone! Big Brother was everywhere now, and even regular citizens could hire him to do a job for them. Who knew what sneakier tech the government would have! The monitoring had started decades ago, back in the twentieth century when phone calls had been scanned, federal agencies searching for words people said that warned they were a potential security hazard. More recently, for corporate data-mining purposes, unsuspecting owners of big screen televisions had their conversations monitored, everything said in their vicinity recorded and uploaded — without the consent (or knowledge) of the owner. And artificial intelligence was being used to process all the personal data gathered. Why would Skip even attempt to convince her to believe there was no such thing as personal surveillance in the twenty-first century, an obviously absurd and false idea? Why was he trying to influence what she thou
ght about the subject?

  She had never told anyone in her department that she thought she was being spied on. Why bring it up now unless she already was the target of intense scrutiny, and Skip didn’t want her to suspect it, never even think about it as a possibility. That might make sense to explain his comments. As if he could control what she thought by making offhanded comments. All his attempts at misdirection did nothing to re-assure her mind that it was just her imagination that her privacy was being violated. If anything, by addressing her directly, MINDSET #2 was about to start running amok, shouting “See? They’re admitting they check up on you! They really are spying on you.”

  Trying to see what Skip was up to, Mia parried his attack and tried a bit of strategy by hiding her skepticism and pretending to go along in case more information might be offered later. “Hmm. Interesting perspective. I had never heard it presented that way before.”

  Then the Kewl Kidz changed the topic of conversation to the practice of purchasing and collecting art.

  Skip said, “I think it’s a sign of becoming an adult. Take down that rock band poster you had hanging up with tacky blue adhesive, go to an art fair, and buy something painted on canvas and mounted in a custom frame.”

  “That’s so true!” Gretchen said. “It took me six months to find a painting that matched the color of the sofa in my living room. But totally worth the effort. It completes the room now that I have it, adds so much to the decor.”

  “I’ve started buying art glass,” Andie said. “Such beautiful colors and shapes.”

  “Oh yes, the pieces in your collection are so stunning, so beautiful!” Stacie said. “I really love what you’ve collected so far. And beyond the beauty, the art you choose to display tells a story about the person you are. Maybe not as directly as that old band poster, but the art you collect tells a story about the real you.”