The Coming of a New Age…Part Two

I felt guilt as I read the instructions and began to bring the computer up and explore the software that had been installed. This computer had much more than I even suspected from the other work instruments I had dealt with; programs I knew nothing about.1

There were perhaps a dozen of us, at one level or another who had grown to know each other over the years. All boys, now young men who shared a small history of growing up together. The issue of trust had never arisen before as we had no secrets from each other; our lives were all about the same, an open book read and shared by all.2

Now, with my computer, it was different. I held back the information from the others and felt shame that I could not be open and honest. I do not know who among my friends left the note in a text during a mid day meal; but there it was: 'Your first task is to transfer the contents of your journals to a computer file. When you have completed that, type the address at the end of this note on a search engine and follow instructions.'3

I didn't even give a second thought about it being someone I knew who passed the note. Our whole lifestyle was separation from others. We walked always a certain distance from the person ahead and behind, and always on opposite sides of a corridor or hallway; we were not permitted to ever be close enough to touch another person other than an approved friend. But who...which one was it? What did it mean?4

It meant that at least one other 'friend' knew I had a computer; perhaps had one also, but still...what did it all mean?5

The living space I shared was sufficient without crowding had it not been for the box upon box of journals that had accumulated since I first began recording my thoughts and those of my friends. I was at first dismayed at the scope of work before me; to read and type and file the hundreds, thousands of pages I had filled.6

Then it became a challenge which changed into a passion and as I read of my first attempts, the early years of my life; the things I recorded that seem to make little sense at the time, began to display a pattern of sorts over time that sometimes gelled into meaning and then became confused again.7

I discovered something else as I gave every minute to the project. Before, if, for some reason, I had to change my schedule, even the hours at recreation, it meant forms in triplicate to explain the deviation. Now, however, with advance notice to a section supervisor, I could occasionally miss attending everything but work space and training sessions.8

It was amazing and so simple as I began to discover the pattern within my journals. The time of day, guided by the twenty-four hour clock on the wall in the room, was recorded at the beginning and end of each entry. The entries were always at least a page, sometimes several, but each was marked within a time period; that of a 'day' of my life.9

Certain foods and sweets were served on the same day, several days apart and the work and study periods divided themselves into regular patterns of seven days and finally into a longer period of time. I had a flash and read ahead and saw and learned that the longer period of time also repeated as if by magic.10

Why was I not taught this? It became so much easier to remember and recall events of the past having the periods of time broken into manageable portions instead of existing as an unending path into the past. There was so much I did not understand or even begin to comprehend.11

I taught myself to manipulate the keyboard without looking and I could almost double the rate of reading and placing the words into a computer file. I explored the file management procedures and learned to identify and separate similar words and phrases in different entries and catalog the information into data files that were always on call; what a marvelous instrument this is!12

Now that I could keep track of the time, the days and weeks and months seemed to hurry by and in no time a year had passed, then three more months and finally the last journals, very short, of the past few days were finished and I sat blinking before the uncaring monitor screen.13

I almost panicked as I searched for the note that had instructed me to create the files and the final notations that directed me to the next step.14

I slowly and carefully typed in the combination of numbers and letters and punctuation marks, paused and breathlessly depressed the 'enter' key and listened as the computer whirred and pictures and symbols flashed. The entire process took only a minute or so and then a message reading: 'files transferred successfully', blinked repeatedly on the screen.15

Then, a heart beat later, the most amazing thing happened. A smaller window appeared in the middle of the monitor screen and a message appeared: 'Hello, are you there?'16

I scooted my chair back and stood, staring at the machine. It was talking to me?17

After a moment, the window blinked and another message was added: 'Well, are you there or not? It sure took you long enough to finish that crummy file!'18

I gasped and blinked and stared and then sat again and scooted up to the keyboard. 'I am here. Are you the machine? Why are you talking to me?'19

A strange yellow smiling face appeared in the message window: 'Silly boy! I am not a machine, I am a person - a girl person at that. Would you like to hear my voice?'20

It was too much for me to believe. Talking to another person, even to room-mates, except for terse questions was not tolerated. I had never held a conversation in private and seldom talked with others except to exchange needed information.21

I cautiously typed: 'I don't think I am allowed to talk with anyone...'22

Immediately came the answer: 'Heh, heh, silly boy; things have changed and you are supposed to talk with others now, there is much you must learn, many questions you must ask.'23

I typed 'okay', three times before I spelled it right and pressed 'enter'.24

I could almost hear her giggle in the: 'tee hee...' she typed. 'Find the box that says speaker, headset and microphone if you want to hear my voice; I will be back in a minute or so...'25

I had to rummage through the confused mass of journals and boxes and into the depths of the single closet before I found the proper box and installed the equipment. She was back, teasing me for my slowness long before I plopped into the chair again and stared at the screen.26

'I am all set up; now what?'27

'Put the headphones on, place the microphone before your lips and move the cursor to the top of the window where it says '"voice communications."'28

I mumbled as I followed her instructions when I suddenly heard a light feminine giggle. 'My name is Gayle, who are you?'29