The Watch in the Sand: Part 13
June 20, 2036
An upgrade is released to the Boards, allowing Nanocules to record sensory input, rather than requiring an external phone or recording equipment. Hand-held devices are now unnecessary to completely utilize the Boards, as video recording is done through the users eyes, while audio recording is done through their ears.
Physical recording equipment begins to disappear. Professional cameramen begin to train themselves to keep their gaze steady without blinking for long periods of time, while sales of professional recording equipment drops sharply, as even the high end recording devices cannot compete with the perfect quality and ease of Nanocules. Indie film developers begin experimenting with this new recording medium, creating ‘Personals’ — stories filmed by the actors, and viewed in first person perspective.
March 9, 2037
The last documented case of SIDS is reported. Several studies conducted on medical information from local Banks reveal that in children under two there are rare instances during sleep when the lungs simply stopped working. If Nanocules are not present to start them breathing again, the child will never wake up. Experts claim it is similar to sleep apnea in adults, but far more deadly and insidious.
September 1, 2039
Governor Harrison recommends to the state legislature that Ohio becomes the first American state to begin manufacturing Nanocules designed to be distributed through the state’s water supply. The public is divided.
5:13 pm, December 3, 2044
Leigh (Leigh Parker, 20, Seattle Line-University, Junior year) stood up from her chair, flopped onto her bed, and stared at the ceiling, letting her brain relax. Her Classes were getting harder; it was already taking half the day to watch all the lectures, and the subjects were getting more and more intricate. She closed her eyes and accessed the Boards.
The GoneTo program ensured that people were constantly posting their destinations as soon as they set out. Leigh didn’t always know where she was going before she left, but her Board knew. Even now, she had a vague idea that she might like to talk to Mack (Mitchell Summers, 25, Masters degree in Nanocule Programming), but she hadn’t checked his Board yet to see where he was. GoneTo knew, however, and had already updated her Board to say “Heading to the Three Bean Coffee Shop. (3434 North Ave, Cincinnati OH, Today’s special: half price for Jumbo Spiced decaffeinated Latte-chino until 7:40 pm) Leigh didn’t like being told where to go and what to do like that — especially when she could have simply looked at Mack’s Board — it felt too aggressive, like the GoneTo board was desperately trying to be helpful without actually being useful. Besides, she hadn’t decided yet; there were several other things she could do instead. She decided she would rather stay on her bed, and browse the Boards aimlessly for a few minutes to shake off her classes.
After she updated her posts, commenting on her classes and how hard they were, she flicked back through the summary of her previous posts, aimlessly counting Pluses and Negs. Her posts were always covered with replies. Pluses and Negs spread their opinions over her life like jam on toast. Brief affirmations, trite rejections, or long manifestos on the World We Live In branched outwards from her seeds of thought, linking to other posts in an elaborate Mandelbrot set of content.
After reading and commenting on her friends’ Boards, Leigh connected to PostCenter. An old Board, PostCenter had been the first to adapt to the Sense Input upgrades to Nanocules. Instead of relying on external files, smartphones, or special glasses, PostCenter relied on the Nanocules floating through the public’s brains. Log into PostCenter, and you could upload a picture taken with your eyes, or a song recorded with your ears. Listen to someone else’s sounds, and you heard it as if you were there, or saw the picture exactly as the poster saw it. Each page that PostCenter had was devoted to a different sense, and in less than one week after its creation, PostCenter had become the trendiest place to upload images, sounds, videos, or anything else you wanted. Now, after three years, it had become a cornerstone of the Boards. Flipping through the various addresses, she dipped her brain into the flavors of the world.
PostCenter.eye was full of flowers — a refreshing change from the morning, when the conflict in Ethiopia bombarded the boards with images of brutal beatings and bloodied bodies, or pictures of slate police with clear shields, pepper spray, and face plates. Now, however, the harsh images of a populous in pain were wiped clean like chalk from a blackboard and replaced with the latest fad; a rainbow of flowers, blossoming trees, and bushes from all over the world. Many of the pictures were close ups, as a poster bent down, inches from the flower, to get the perfect image. A butterfly in China could be seen in New York before it had even taken flight.
PostCenter.ear had not yet moved on from the conflict, though a few posters were trying. Sounds of fire, screaming, name calling, and cries for backup covered the Board, mixed with kitten’s mewing, babies uttering first words, and family members laughing and telling jokes. Gunshots echoed inches from Leigh’s head, followed by a bawdy song from a crowded bar.
Leigh continued to browse PostCenter’s collection of senses, smelling flowers and tasting foods, before moving on to PostCenter.all. The comprehensive Board, PostCenter.all let Leigh, along with every other poster in the world, download all the senses of anyone who posted, like a video that included smell and touch. The Board gave anyone a momentary glimpse into another world. Hearing, seeing, and touching someone else’s uploaded moment in time. It still made some people nervous, and there was discussion about whether the Board was too invasive, even though it was voluntary. There were several rumors that a streaming-upload that could let you piggy-back someone else’s brain was in the works. Leigh didn’t worry about it; she just liked exploring other people, and being where they had been.
After enjoying five minutes of other people’s lives, she checked back with her own board. The Algorithm directed her to a friend’s post she would probably like. Cindy (Cynthia Platt, 17, Unemployed, living at 1220 South Blvd, Chicago IL) had just posted about a new program that was making the rounds on the Boards. AntiStagger was a balance aid for when large amounts of alcohol is detected in the bloodstream. Supposedly, the program could detect when the body was off-balance and shock the muscles to prevent someone from falling. Several Plusses said that when the program was active, you could walk around completely smashed, and never worry about trying to catch yourself — it made the whole experience of being drunk much more fun. Leigh saved the program for later, and decided that she didn’t want to stay inside all afternoon; she was, in fact, heading to Three Bean Coffee (3434 North Ave, Cincinnati OH, Today’s special: half price for Jumbo Spiced decaffeinated Latte-chino until 7:40 pm) after all.
When she entered the store, she walked up to the counter and picked up the hot coffee that was waiting for her. It was her favorite, just what she was in the mood for after a hard day of viewing lectures. She had said so in a post a few months ago, and the Algorithm had picked up on this fact and ordered ahead to make sure her drink was waiting for her when she walked in. The sensor above the counter sensed her Nanocules, and in a split second the coffee was paid for from her checking account. She glanced around for Mack, while her mind brushed PostCenter to see if anything had changed since she left her apartment.
One of her friends was talking about the Mindless Plus — a social phenomenon currently being discussed at length in some circles. People would read or view a post, and then Plus it whether they liked it or not, more as a polite social act, rather than an accurate representation of what they truly thought. Most everyone Leigh knew wanted Nanocules to scan the physiological response to what you saw or heard, Plussing and Negging things for you based on your gut response, bypassing your social instincts. A sub-conversation about etiquette was collecting a large number of participants, all complaining about the rudeness of speaking to someone when they are browsing the Boards.
A half hour later, after talking with Mack about nothing in particular, Leigh walked outside the Three Bean Coffee Shop (3434 North St, Cincinnati OH, Half price sale ended early because of overwhelming turnout), to find a taxi waiting for her — her Nanocules had contacted the local Taxi center and paid for a car to take her to her apartment, since she was feeling tired.
When she entered her room at 5:43, she suddenly began to feel horny. Checking her Board, she saw her BeauChecker program had increased her hormone levels after Dan’s Board (Dan Kern, 24, London Line-University Graduate, J.D.) had updated that his mood was ‘amorous,’ and he was heading to her place.
Hours later, after he left, her NanoDoc program notified her that she was low on fluids, and she should drink some water as soon as possible. Heading to the kitchen, she aimlessly flipped through her daily statistics to keep abreast of her health. According to the program, she had picked up three significant pathogens during the day. Two were already well known, and had been removed from her system, but the third was an odd viral mutation, and her Nanocules had quarantined it from the rest of her body. Sure enough, a brief exploration revealed a small hard lump in her armpit where the virus was being studied by her Nanocules in solitude.
Before she fell asleep at 11:30 exactly, she activated Nanalarm, an program that would stimulate her brain, waking her up in time to get to breakfast with her friend Carrie. She decided to set the alarm for seven o-clock, rather than have the program calculate the time for her.
And while she was asleep, her DreamCatcher program wrote out the dreams she was having, and saved them for her to read when she woke up.