Distracticon Rising (Modernity Series)

Part One

The year is 1955.  Little Tommy is riding in the passenger seat of his father’s white Ford Customline to the local mall to check out the newest and coolest invention, the color television set. Televisions had been around for some time now, but Tommy’s parents never saw the need for one, and they were pretty expensive to boot.  Reading novels, the Bible, and news stories to their little family was mother’s favorite activity at night, and she didn’t want to change that if she could help it. Tommy enjoyed reading to everyone as well, although he had trouble with some of the bigger words. Tommy’s father was partial to the idea, as many nights he found his father already asleep on the couch by 7:30 PM after a long day of work and a few beers to help “calm his nerves”.  Tommy didn’t understand all that, but he did know that his father served in the War, and sometimes awoke in his sleep shouting and waking everyone up with a fright. With time, Tommy and his big sister adapted to these nightly outbursts and often slept right through them.   

Everyone in Tommy’s small Indiana town was talking about it, everyone at Tommy’s school was talking about it, and one day father came home and discussed with mother the idea of having one of these TV “contraptions”. At the time, she was quite against the idea of having some box making noises and flashing lights in their quaint little living room space.  Tommy wondered if maybe she didn’t like the idea of competing for the attention of her family, but he kept silent at the dinner table while they spoke.

“Why on earth would you want to have something like that in here?” she asked father.

“Well, some of the boys down at the shop were talking about world events, and how the news can spread so much faster now with this invention. Not to mention some of the films they’ve been able to see, right from the comfort of their own houses,” said father.

“I feel that reading to and interacting with you all is entertaining enough. Isn’t that right, Tommy?” she asked.

Tommy could see where the question was headed, and before she finished the sentence he had shoveled some green beans into his mouth.  He glanced quickly to the face of his father, and then to his mother, and nodded quickly up and down. The scar on his father’s cheek always gave him a little scare, even though his pops assured him that one day he would tell him how he got it.

“Listen now, just think…I never said this was going to replace what you do here.  I agree, reading together is good for us all. It’s what my parents did, and theirs did before that.  But wouldn’t it be nice to have that other option? I remember how much you enjoyed watching that one film at the cinema…what was it called?” asked father.

Tommy had seen this type of exchange before between his parents.  They both knew each others weak points well, and knew how to talk themselves silly.  He never saw them fight though.  Argued aplenty, but it never blew up into anything more than one of them storming out of the room.

“Singin’ In The Rain…” she said. As she spoke, her eyes dreamily lifted up just a bit, as if she was remembering her favorite parts of the film. “The music on the radio keeps me entertained enough,” she said, but Tommy could already see her defenses going down.

“Well now you can HEAR and SEE the musicians! Don’t tell me you don’t wanna see ol’ Frankie croonin’ away!” said father. Hook, line, and sinker.

“That wouldn’t be very….Christian of me to agree, you know?” said mother.

“I’m not asking you to be a saint! Now we got the money and that isn’t a problem if that is what you are worried about…” said father.

Tommy’s sister was just watching the whole thing quietly until father said this.  “Oh dad I’d love to have a TV in here!” She said, her eyes shifting to her mother’s face for a brief second.

So here is Little Tommy walking with his father into the L.S. Ayres in Indianapolis to have a gander at the televisions. The colored ones were just “too damn expensive” as his father put it, so they chose to get a black and white one. It was heavier than can be, so they had to have help getting it in the car, and then help from a neighbor getting it out.

Once it was in its place among the comforts of the living room, Tommy could feel the energy shift. His mother looked at it with a mixture of confusion and expectation.  Once father had plugged it in and turned it on, the hissing sound of static white noise filled the room until the right channel had been found. Tommy saw his dad fidgeting with the antenna, trying to get it pointed in the right direction of some magical far-off place where images and sounds float around in the sky, waiting to be captured and summoned to the box.

Tommy learned about a girl named Lucy. He learned about Gunsmoke, The Honeymooners, and Ed Sullivan.  The family still did their nightly reading from time to time, but as the years progressed and the kids grew, the television in the living room became the center of attention. Tommy’s imaginations created from his and his mother’s reading time were slowly replaced by someone else’s imaginations, ideas that were created to entertain and to make money from TV Advertisements.  The more people watched your show, the more money you made from companies wanting to sell their ads during your allotted time schedule on the tube. The more attention you could draw out of the human, the richer you became.

End of Part One

Alethia’s note: There were many of that time who scried from the reflective surface of the television the potential dangers of such a device being used in every household, citing the loss and replacement of tradition with this enticing new machine, and the protruding information and influence from those “out there” infiltrating the safety and boundaries of the family life. The last thing any human of that time wanted was to be left out of the group, and there were many more who fell in love instantly with this technology, and when you look at the history up until this moment, you can see why such a tool would have had so alluring a charm.  Imagine a population enduring The Great Depression and two major World Wars, and the psychological toll these events would have taken.  This toll would be passed down for many generations, both genetically and through family strife. The television was a means of escaping, however briefly, a world that was confusing, painful, and frightening. The first television watchers many not have understood this at the time, but those who made a profit from the shows, movies, and TVs, knew it all too well.

Part Two

1968

Tom watched the wretched jungles slowly fade beneath him. He knew he would never truly leave them though. His dreams were already full of horrors unimaginable to the average American citizen. Surrounded by so much blood and loss of life, Tom knew it was a miracle that he had somehow survived the utter failure that was the Vietnam war. He knew it was a failure because he saw it with his own eyes.  One could argue that all wars are failures. Whenever a species fights amongst itself, how can there really be a winner?

The flight home was uneventful.  Tom dozed in and out of consciousness, passing the waking hours by with small talk with another soldier who had survived, albeit barely. They shared their war stories and their nightmares, but overall they didn’t speak that much because of their experiences. To speak of them brought them back to life, vividly in the mind’s eye, and that was just too much for the both of them. So they drank until the plane landed, and said their goodbyes as they parted.

For years after, Tom dealt with the traumas of the war.  Mostly with drinking, but eventually he got himself to a therapist to at least try something other than numbing himself out with poison. The therapist suggested different things to help him, and that maybe finding a wife and starting a family would do him some good. She said he needed something to take the focus away from his inner world, something to give him a sense of purpose.

He found a job in the burgeoning automotive industry and enjoyed it and this began the process of healing for him.  He eventually did find a wife, Cara, and got into the hang of this whole “life” thing.  The war nightmares still found their way into his dreams, but the therapist was right; having a family to devote his energy to kept the memories from resurfacing, kept the pain at bay…for a time.

He found that family life comes with its own little mini-wars.  The therapist told him to avoid stressful situations to help avoid triggering his past, but she didn’t tell him how stressful having a wife and children could be.  On the TV shows, family always looked so happy, so stress-free and funny.  His own childhood was without a lot of stress, so he was completely caught off-guard when challenges began to arise with his wife.

At first it was just casual banter about small things; bills not being paid on time, trash not being taken out, dirty bathroom sinks, the usual husband-wife bickering.  But as time progressed, something had changed between Tom and his wife. They spent most of their nights in front of the television, watching shows and being entertained. When the TV was off, however, the communication dwindled into the negative. She was always complaining about something, always throwing a fit about women’s rights and how she felt like she was being controlled by him because he earned mostly all the money.  Tom often wondered where she got these ideas from; one glance at the television in the room made him wonder. Cara had a job down at the grocery store, but maybe she just wasn’t happy with that.

He decided to go back to see his old friend, the therapist.  She asked him how often he and his wife communicated things without fighting. “Rarely, if at all,” he answered.  “Usually after dinner we would all just go plop in front of the TV and forget about all the fighting and arguing, at least for the next few hours. It’s not good for the kids to keep seeing that.”

The therapist glanced down at her notes, and nodded. “You know, I hear this quite a bit in my line of profession.  Makes me wonder if the television is doing us all more harm than good.  Instead of communicating our issues and growing together, even if its a tough talk, now there’s this….distraction in the family room. Humans like to choose the path of least resistance, so if they have it, they will go down it.”

Tom nodded and agreed.  He could see where this was going, and he could feel the Vietnam  in his veins. The idea of facing this problem with his wife head-on made him feel like he was back in the jungle, running, sweating, screaming for his life. The therapist noticed his change in behavior.  “Look, I know these kinds of situations can be tough. I have a spouse as well, and we have our issues. But it helps to at least try and talk it out, even if it doesn’t get anywhere. At the least, you will get some understanding about the dynamics between you and your wife,” she said.

After picking up the kids from his parent’s house, Tom sat down in one of the kitchen chairs in his own.  His wife was coming home shortly, and he aimed to at least try to do what the therapist suggested.  He tried to plan out the conversation in his head, and right as he felt he was ready, Cara walked in the door.

“Look, Cara…maybe we should try to talk about all of this arguing we do.  I know I’m partially to blame…” said Tom.

“Look I don’t know, I’m kinda tired…being on my feet all day does that to me,” said Cara.

“Yes, but if we don’t try to talk this out at some point, it will just get worse,” said Tom.

Five-year old Jack began a high-pitched whining from the other room.  Vietnam is only a scream away to a veteran of that particular war, and the noise from the child didn’t help Tom to keep his head clear. He got all fuzzy, and the important task before him faded into the background of his mind.

Later on in the night, Tom glanced over at his wife who had fallen asleep in the phosphor glow of the television screen. He told himself he would try again tomorrow, maybe the situation will be better, maybe he can leave the kids at the parent’s house after school and take her out to dinner or something.  He had loved her always, and he knew that if he wanted to keep his marriage together, he needed to do the right thing, the hard thing.

The kids were already asleep, so Tom turned the television set off and left Cara sleeping on the couch.

Part Three

1995

Jack blew out the candles on his birthday cake. “Happy birthday!” They all shouted, Jack surrounded by his younger brother and and a few friends and his father Tom.

“I feel a bit old for this type of thing,” said Jack. “I mean, I’m 21 now! Wow….”

Tom nodded and gave his son a pat on the back.  “Well Jack, I wanted to have this birthday party for you because who knows where and what you’ll be doing as you get older and start your life off in Grad school. I wish you were staying close to home but…” Here Tom got a little misty-eyed, but the emotion cleared just as quickly as it came along. “Plus, I wanted to give you your birthday gift!” he said.

Jack’s friends had already seen the big box wrapped up in the other room and had already begun talking amongst themselves about what it could be.  They all had a good idea, but didn’t want to spoil it for him. “Dude, if its what we think it is…yeah, you’ll love it!” They said.

They all walked into the adjacent room toward the brightly wrapped box.  Jack started to rip off the paper and saw the word “Intel” on the box.  He gave a shout of joy and hugged his father tight. “Dad this is awesome! Thanks!” Said Jack.

“Well I know you are going to need it for college, and they keep talking about this internet thing where we can communicate via something call e-mail and chat.  I mean, the telephone has always worked just fine for that sort of thing if you ask me, but its a changing world we live in. Don’t want you slipping behind the times!” Said Tom.

“Yeah there’s so much I can do with this thing! Not to mention the cool games that are available.  Wow, great birthday present dad! I wish mom were here to see it.”  Jack quickly realized his slip-up and cast his eyes down and away from his father. His friends gradually moved back into the kitchen, leaving Jack and his father alone.

“It’s Okay, Jack. I know you miss her.  I do too. I live with the regrets of how I could have done things differently, but I can’t go back and change the past. I can’t save her.” Said Tom.

The silence filled the room while both men had their own flashes of happy memories with Cara.  A friend decided to pop into the room and attempt to lighten up the mood.  “Hey let’s open the box and get this thing up and running, what do you say?” said the friend. Jack stood up and looked towards the box.  “Absolutely man, good idea!” said Jack. Tom smiled as he watched Jack cut open the box and begin setting up the computer with his friends.

He hoped that his gift would be useful and applied for the benefit of his son, but Tom had begun to have his doubts about the new-age technologies that seemed to be coming out at a fast pace.  In his life, he had seen so much change accompanied by so much strife in the country that he loved, the country that he fought for.  He, along with most of his Vietnam veteran buddies, knew that something was deeply flawed with his beloved country, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.  All he had was a lurking suspicion of unnamed and silent powers growing in the background, growing powerful enough to maybe even control the government itself.

Part Four

2012 AD

The creaking knees. The tight, aching back. The purple scar from the war on his right arm. Tom felt these daily companions as he sat quietly on the park bench, watching the sunlight interacting with the wind-blown leaves of a large maple tree, like shimmering green waves.  The day was beautiful, sunny, crisp, nearing autumn, when the leaves would turn to red and fall as they have done for millennia past. He thought about the perfection of nature, always knowing what it needed to do, always following its own biological rules, the seasons changing the landscape year after year after year in the exact same patterns.

At 64 years of age, Tom had plenty of time to think about these sorts of things. He had lived a full life that he was proud of, save for the troubles he had with his first wife Cara. He tried not to think about all of that, but the ghosts of the past always find a way to flitter about in the mind.

His grandson Andrew was on the see-saw with another kid from the neighborhood. He loved to watch little Drew playing, so young and innocent, so full of life and energy.  He wondered what Andrew would want to be when he grew up; at age 9 he was the youngest of the grandkids and Tom’s favorite by far. He didn’t understand the others; perhaps he was just too old to understand much of anything in this strange new world around him. He had seen so much change that he could barely keep up.  But Andrew’s innocence reminded him of his own kids when they were young, and even of his own youthful exuberance when he was just a young boy in Indiana. When the whole world was your playground.

Andrew hopped off of the see-saw and came over to his grandfather. “How you doin’ over here, gramps?” he said in his chirpy little kid voice. Tom always loved to hear that sound. “I’m doing Okay youngster, just watching you play,” said Tom.  Andrew sat down next to his grandfather, grabbing his little book bag and the water bottle from the side so that he could take a few sips. Before Tom had taken Andrew from the house, Andrew’s big sister had given Tom the young boy’s backpack and told Tom to make sure he was very careful with it.  Tom smiled and gave his granddaughter a hug and said “sure thing pumpkin.”

“Hey, wanna see something neat?  My big sister let me borrow something of hers to show you today.  She wrapped it all up in some bubble-wrap so that it wouldn’t get broken.  We got to be very careful or else!” said Andrew, making the cut-throat sign with his thumb across his throat.  Tom was a bit disturbed and wondered where he had learned such a gesture at such a young age, but said nothing.

When the wrapping paper had been removed, Tom stared blankly at what appeared to be a book-sized glass screen.  He had heard and seen enough about the newest “smart phones” to know that this was basically just some larger type of the same. He watched as Andrew flicked it on, touched some little image, and a brightly colored game popped onto the screen. “Now what exactly are you supposed to do with that there, Andrew?” said Tom.

“Well, play games of course!” said the boy. “But…you were just playing games with your friend over there.  There’s playground equipment here to play on too. Why not do that instead?” said the old man.

There was silence, and not the good kind. “What did you say, Grandad?” said the kid. Andrew proceeded to make funny little noises while he touched different areas of the glass screen.  Tom suddenly felt a surge of fear, something deep and primal within him forcing its way up, up and into his mind.  He yanked the screen out of the kids hand, only to be met with screams of annoyance from Andrew. “Hey why did you do that for?! Gimme that back NOW!” said the boy.  They both tugged on it from each side, with Tom easily winning the match, but in the ensuing calamity of the old man verses the young boy, the screen device slipped from his hands and fell to the ground, cracking the screen right down the middle.

“No grandad! What did you do that for!” screamed Andrew. Tom sat like a stone, staring down at the broken device on the pavement. The horrid sounds emitting from the young child were distant now; Vietnam was in his blood again, and the familiar screams from the jungle rattled in his head. He had seen many types of enemies emerge into his long life, and he had fought them all with a valiant effort. But this…this wasn’t just a simple enemy lying broken on the ground before him.  This was a thief, a trickster, a deceiver, a monster capable of stealing things that no one can ever get back. Time. Childhood. Innocence. Attention. If this was a war that his young grandson was unknowingly in, he had very little chance of winning.

Once Andrew realized that his grandfather wasn’t reacting to his whining, he got up and went back to the playground and jumped into one of the swings. Tom came out of his reverie, but not before a mental image popped into his mind from his childhood; he remembered sitting on the floor and looking up at his parents enraptured with the television show that was on.  It was some goofy comedy with a girl named Lucy, and he didn’t find it all that funny really.  But it sure held their attention, staring into the box as if it were a fire at one of the campsites they used to go to when he was a boy.

He had seen the rise of this distracting time-consuming device, its evolution from day one all the way up to this point in time, and he felt helpless, utterly helpless against this enemy. At first it was just sold as entertainment and a way to get the news from the world. It’s slow ascension over the years kept its insidiousness from ever being noticed. He sighed and picked up the screen, placed it back into the book bag.  He knew that he was just an “old man” to this new generation, similar to how he felt when he was a young boy looking at his grandparents and how they lived and behaved. He knew in his heart that there was very little he could do to convince his grandkids about the dangers he felt sneaking into their lives behind the shiny new object. But maybe he could talk to their father Jack about it.  Maybe.

END