Ultimate Smartphone
When Joanne Pitney told her employer that she would not be able to report to work on Friday, the owner of the real estate agency decided that, with most of his staff wanting the day off, he would declare an unofficial holiday and close the office.
"It's not as though I'll lose any business," he reasoned. "I don't expect too many people will have houses on their minds. After all, Friday's the big day."
Joanne normally slept until seven, but she was up at four. It was not difficult to rise at that hour since she slept fitfully the night before, like a child on Christmas Eve keyed up with anticipation of the big day. She did not waste time styling her hair or applying makeup. Anxious to be on her way, she quickly donned a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, brushed her teeth, ran a comb through her hair and dashed out the door.
She walked less than three blocks before encountering the end of the queue.
It's even longer than I thought it would be!
Her disappointment faded as she concentrated on what awaited her at the end of the long line. It might be ten hours before she made it through the doors of the store, but what would the time matter?
I'll have one by then!
"Happiness" cannot adequately describe the joy she would feel when the moment arrived. "Bliss" is a far more accurate description, or perhaps "ecstasy."
Joanne had been waiting for thirty minutes—already more than a hundred people had lined up behind her—when she saw an enterprising young man walking parallel to the queue, pulling a wooden cart behind him.
"Coffee," he cried, hawking his wares. "Get your hot coffee."
"I'll take one," Joanne called and patiently waited for the five people in front of her to be served.
"How do you take it?" he asked as he poured black coffee into a cardboard cup.
"Light with one sugar."
"That'll be five dollars."
Five dollars for one cup of coffee? Talk about price gouging! It's worse than Starbucks.
"You're going to miss your chance to get one just so you can make a few dollars selling coffee?"
"Are you kidding?" he laughingly countered. "Some of these people have been in line since before midnight last night. I've already cleared more than a thousand dollars. I'll probably make three or four times that before the day is over. I might come back around noon with sandwiches. Besides, I made a deal with one of the store's employees. If he puts one aside for me, I'll cut him in for five percent of my profit."
There's a young man who's going places, Joanne thought as she handed over the five-dollar bill.
By the time she made it through the doors of the Hermes Store, she had bought two more cups of coffee and a ham sandwich from the same vendor.
It was nearly four in the afternoon when she crossed the threshold into the Mecca of the latest technology and electronic gadgetry. Like many other consumers, her eyes widened in wonder as she scanned the tablets and computers on display.
I'm almost there! she realized, estimating there were roughly twenty to thirty people between the front door and the sales counter.
She endured another hour and a half of shifting her weight from one sore foot to the other and bending her aching back to ease the stiffness she felt. At least she did not suffer the pains of a full bladder after consuming three cups of coffee. The city had provided a sufficient number of portable toilets for the comfort of those waiting in line.
At precisely 5:38, Joanne stepped up to the counter.
"What color would you like?" the salesman asked.
"Blue."
"Let me see if we have any left."
"If not, I'll take pink or purple."
The salesman walked to the stockroom and returned momentarily with a box in hand.
"You're in luck. We still have a few blue models left."
"I'm surprised you have any stock at all, given the number of people here."
"Actually, we ran out around ten this morning and again at one. We've already had to have two truckloads sent over from our warehouse in Jersey. We'll probably need a few more before the store closes at midnight."
Considering how many people were still standing in line behind her, Joanne suspected the store would have to either turn customers away at midnight or remain open beyond the posted closing hour.
"Here it is!" the salesman announced, after opening the box and removing the unit. "The new Smart 100, the most advanced telecommunications tool known to man."
Joanne took it from his hands and pressed the power button. She felt tears come to her eyes as the familiar Hermes "Messenger of the Gods" logo appeared on the screen.
"If I can have your credit card, we can set you up with an account."
There was no question as to whether or not the customer wanted to purchase the item. That was already an established fact. Everyone—I repeat EVERYONE—wanted the new Smart 100 phone. Of the estimated three hundred and twenty million people living in the United States, over two hundred and fifty million lined up in stores from California to New York and in Hawaii and Alaska that Friday to buy one. Worldwide, there were millions more.
The salesman ran Joanne's credit card through the scanner and, since she had made sure to pay her existing balance beforehand, the sale was completed without a hitch.
"Next, in order to register you in our security system, I'll need you to press your right thumb here," the man instructed, producing a Hermes thumbprint detector. "And here, on your phone's touch screen. Good. Now, your phone is secure. Should you lose it or if someone tries to steal it, we can locate the phone anywhere on the planet."
"Even if it's turned off?"
The salesman chuckled and replied, "This is the Smart 100. It never shuts off."
"Not even if you forget to charge the batteries?"
"This little beauty doesn't run on batteries. It relies solely on green technology."
A solar-powered cell phone? Why hasn't anyone thought of this before?
"One last thing," the salesman said as he put the phone back in its box. "You need to sign the contract."
The customer did not question the provisions of the document. She did not even bother to read it. Few, if any, people ever did. Two-year contracts on cell phones were common, as were the terms of agreement people routinely signed when they shopped online. Eager to take her phone home and try out the new features, Joanne grabbed the salesman's stylus and electronically signed her name on the dotted line.
* * *
After briefly stopping at a fast-food restaurant for a burger, fries and Coke—the only thing she'd had to eat all day was the overpriced ham sandwich—Joanne hurried back to her apartment. She walked in the door, tossed her purse on the counter, sat down at the kitchen table and immediately opened the box.
The Smart 100 was a revolutionary product in communications, unlike any phone that came before it. It was so innovative that most people had no clue how to use it. Thankfully, Hermes provided a quick start guide. Following the printed instructions, she removed the earrings she had been wearing and inserted a pair of metal studs into the piercings of her ears, securing them in the back with screw-on fasteners. These small, unobtrusive components would basically perform the same function as Bluetooth headsets.
It's just like wearing posts.
When Joanne took the Smart 100 out of the box, the screen blinked on, and she felt a slight tingling sensation in her earlobes. According to the quick start guide, this was a normal occurrence and would soon pass.
Since there was no keyboard on the phone and no icons on the screen, she had no idea how to make a telephone call. How was she to put names and numbers into her contact list?
I want to call my mother and tell her about the phone.
No sooner had the idea come into her head than her mother's picture appeared on the screen. A few moments later, Joanne heard her mother's voice.
"Hi, honey, how are you?" Vera Pitney asked.
"Mom?" her daughter exclaimed with surprise. "I didn't even dial your number. I ... oh, never mind. Guess what? I got the new Smart 100."
"You mean you waited on that long line?"
"It was worth it! This phone is amazing! Listen to this," Joanne said, reading from a long list of features printed on the back of the box. "The Smart 100 can access a library of music, games, movies, books and images. I can surf the internet and take still photos and videos. And I won't have to waste my time looking up phone numbers, addresses or directions ever again."
"With Siri, neither do I," Vera argued.
"Siri? Really? Come on, Mom. Get with the times. The Smart 100 makes your old iPhone look like a string and a pair of plastic cups."
When there was no response from the other end of the line, Joanne continued extolling the virtues of Hermes's latest phone.
"It can maintain your bank accounts, pay your bills, make travel arrangements, renew your driver's license and registration, file your tax returns, etc. And, for health-conscious people, it provides accurate information on weight, heart rate, blood pressure and blood alcohol levels."
"I suppose that app could come in handy," Vera grudgingly admitted.
"There are no apps for the Smart 100. There's no need to pick and choose programs you want and then download them onto your phone. Everything is already included and ready to use."
"That phone must have cost you a fortune!"
"No, not at all. In fact, it costs fifty dollars less than Apple's newest phone."
"Well, maybe in a few weeks, once the lines have gone down, I'll go to the Hermes Store and buy one."
"You won't regret it."
* * *
As is the case with most modern electronic wonders, we rarely understand the technology behind them. Television, for instance, has been around for more than a century, yet how many people, even those who sit in front of their sets for hours on end, fully comprehend how they work? The same can be said of cell phones, especially the so-called "smartphones" that are capable of much more than mere verbal communication.
Joanne did not waste her time wondering how the Smart 100 knew who she wanted to talk to, what song she wanted to hear, what video she wanted to watch or what scene she wanted to photograph. She simply assumed that some computer genius in Silicon Valley had discovered a way to make it work. (Meanwhile, some poor soul barely earning a livable wage working in a Chinese factory that manufactures the phones was contemplating throwing himself out a window.)
For the next four weeks, Joanne was like a newlywed bride during her first month of marriage. Not even the odd tingling sensation in her earlobes, which still hadn't gone away, lessened her opinion of the Smart 100. However, as anyone who is currently or ever has been married knows, every honeymoon must come to an end. For Joanne Pitney, this metaphorical event occurred when she received her first monthly bill from Vista, her wireless service provider and a wholly owned subsidiary of Hermes, Inc. While she had expected an increase in her bill after switching from her previous phone to the Smart 100, she never dreamed it would be more than triple the cost.
There must be a mistake, she concluded when she saw how much she owed.
She immediately received a text message in response to her thought. Vista insisted no mistake had been made. Moments later, she received a confirmation from her phone that the bill had been paid, followed by a notice from her bank that her checking account was overdrawn and that money was going to be taken from her savings account.
A heart-wrenching realization struck her like the speeding train that routinely ran over Wile E. Coyote in the classic Road Runner cartoons: At this rate, I'll go through my savings in three months.
The following day, on her way home from work, she stopped by the Hermes Store. Unlike her last visit, there was no ridiculously long line winding its way through the city. On the contrary, there were only six customers and three employees. Joanne recognized one as the salesman who had waited on her when she purchased her phone.
"Hello. Can I help you?" he inquired.
"Yes. A month ago, I bought a Smart 100 here."
"As did three-quarters of the people in the city," the young man joked.
"I want to return it," Joanne explained sheepishly.
"I'm afraid that's impossible. You signed a contract."
"I know, and I'm perfectly willing to pay the early termination fee."
"The contract doesn't provide for early termination. It's ironclad. You can't get out of it.
"But I can't afford it. I had no idea that the service fees would be so high."
"It was all right there in the contract you signed."
"I didn't have time to read it all," she contended, not admitting that she hadn't read any of it.
"I'm sorry, but that's no excuse. You signed the contract."
"You're not listening to me. I don't have enough money in my checking account to cover the phone bill, and there's not much money in my savings account."
"Then the balance will be charged to your credit card."
"You don't understand, I don't want to go into debt over a ...."
"I'm afraid you're the one who doesn't understand. You bought the phone. You signed the contract. Now you must honor your obligation."
As Joanne walked out of the store, her eyes were drawn to a large television screen above the exit. The CNN newscaster announced that Hermes reported record-breaking profits for the month due mainly to the sale of the Smart 100 cell phone. She shook her head in disgust. In her opinion, the company's business tactics fell just short of armed robbery.
* * *
The next day at work, Joanne shared her financial woes with Burt Frawley, her supervisor. He came up with a surprisingly easy solution.
"You can come in on Saturdays for a few hours. I can use the help, and you'd be getting time and a half. And don't forget, your anniversary will be coming up in two months. You'll be due for a raise. Since you're dependable and hardworking, I'll talk to the owner and see if we can give it to you a month early."
Relief and gratitude swept over her.
"You're a lifesaver! If my other expenses don't radically increase, I just might be able to afford my phone service for the next two years. But once this contract is up, I'm getting rid of the Smart 100."
"I thought you loved that phone."
"I do. I'd love to drive a Ferrari, too, but I can't afford one. Let's face it. I really don't need half the features the phone offers. Besides," she admitted, "I don't like that tingling feeling in my earlobes. They say it will go away, but it hasn't yet."
Burt, who had Smart 100 studs in his own ears, sympathized.
"I read that some people are more sensitive to the transmission than others. Many users suffer from headaches, and a few get seizures."
"From earphones? My old earbuds never bothered me."
"The Smart 100 uses completely different technology than the old smartphones. The studs aren't simple microphones or speakers. They're basically little computers that use microchip technology to communicate directly with your brain."
"How can they do that?"
"Apparently, brainwaves aren't much different from electrical impulses. The computers in the studs are capable of digitizing those impulses so that the phone's processor can understand them."
"You mean the Smart 100 can read people's minds?"
"Basically, yes. That's how it knows what song you want to hear or what person you want to contact."
"I feel like I've just stepped into an episode of Doctor Who or The X-Files," Joanne said with a frown, wishing more than ever that she could terminate her contract with Vista.
* * *
Even though her rent went up by twenty-five dollars a month and the cost of gasoline rose by sixty cents a gallon, Joanne was able to get by for the next eleven months. Both her Christmas bonus and the money she received on her birthday went toward paying her living expenses rather than on something special, as it usually did. She was also able to save in other ways: she discontinued HBO, cut back on groceries and reduced her clothing budget.
"I have another year left on my Vista contract," she complained as she passed up the opportunity to go out to dinner with a group of friends.
Instead of veal parmesan at Luigi's, it was frozen ravioli with store-brand jar sauce.
If my rent goes up again, it'll be a can of Chef Boyardee next.
Despite her need to economize, life was not too bad for Joanne. Rather than go to the movie theater, she took advantage of the one-dollar video rentals at Redbox, and instead of spending more than ten dollars on a paperback novel, she borrowed books free of charge from the public library. The irony of the situation did not escape her. She was spending an exorbitant amount of money on a phone on which she could watch movies and read books, and yet she couldn't afford to do either one of those things.
On Saturday—three hundred and sixty-five days after she purchased her Smart 100 cell phone—Joanne worked a full day. After saying goodnight to Burt Frawley, she got into her car and drove to the library, where she checked out the latest Stephen King novel.
This ought to keep me busy for a couple of weeks, she mused as she thumbed through the eight-hundred-page book.
Once home, she put a frozen pizza in the microwave, filled up a glass of water from the tap—no bottled water on her budget—and sat down at her table to enjoy her book. She had read only four pages when she received a notice on her Smart 100 that her Vista bill was available for viewing. Ordinarily, she would not have interrupted her dinner to read the email, but it was followed by another announcement that her checking account was overdrawn.
What? I had more than enough money in there to pay my bills this month.
Fearing someone had hacked into her account, she put her novel and pizza aside and read the email. Nothing in Stephen King's fiendish imagination had ever frightened her as much as seeing her latest cell phone bill. The cost of wireless service had increased by more than fifty percent!
This HAS to be a mistake!
Another email arrived, informing her that, pursuant to the terms of the contract she had signed at the Hermes Store one year earlier, the monthly rate would increase on the anniversary date.
I've got to pay this amount for the next twelve months? There's no way I can afford it.
Joanne had sacrificed so many things in order to pay her phone bill, including new clothes, evenings out with her friends and her monthly visits home. All she had left was her car and her apartment. She briefly considered selling the car and walking to work, but she would not get much money selling a twelve-year-old Subaru—certainly not enough to pay for the increased cost of her phone service.
There must be some way I can get out of this mess! I know. I can cancel my credit card and change my bank account to a different bank. Maybe I can take out my money and stick it under my mattress where Vista can't get their hands on it.
Unfortunately, the Smart 100 read her mind and quickly blocked her actions.
It's like playing chess with a computer! I can't win. Unless ...."
A smile spread across her face as hope blossomed in her heart.
A computer can't win at chess if the plug is pulled.
Pressing the power button on the phone would not work. As the Hermes salesman had told her, once the Smart 100 was turned on, there was no turning it off. Undeterred, Joanne tried several methods to destroy the phone. First, she submerged it in a bucket of water. This had no effect since the casing was waterproof. Next, she took a hammer from her sink drawer and pounded it with all her strength, but the strong blows she rained down upon it failed to scratch the Smart 100's screen. Finally, she turned on the gas burner of her stove and put the phone directly on the flames. Miraculously, the extreme heat did not melt the casing.
This thing is indestructible!
It suddenly occurred to Joanne that the phone would not work without the studs. She reached her hands up to her right earlobe and attempted to remove the fastening at the back of the earring-like component. To no great surprise, it would not come off. Neither would the one on her left ear. For the next hour, she tried several ways to remove the studs, including covering the fastener with soap and then oil to lubricate it in hopes that it would screw off. After everything she did failed, she became desperate.
It was no longer a question of the money alone. The studs and the tingling feeling they created seemed repulsive to her. She thought it unnatural that they should be able to read her mind.
They're like alien creatures from an old science-fiction movie. I have to get them out!
As Joanne looked at the small piece of flesh beneath the stud, roughly half an inch in size, an image of the cooking shears in her kitchen drawer came to mind. Many times, she had used them to cut chicken, their blades severing skin, meat and bone with little effort. Undoubtedly, there would be pain and blood, but she would finally rid herself of the vile transmitters that had ruined her life for the past twelve months.
As her hand went to the drawer pull, she felt the tingling in her earlobe increase.
Don't do it!
The idea was not her own; it was a warning from the Smart 100.
"Screw you!" she shouted and took out the shears.
The discomfort in her ears became more severe when the Smart 100 sent electricity into the sensitive flesh, as though fighting for its life. The pain nothwithstanding, Joanne remained resolute.
Snip.
You'll be sorry for that.
The injured woman screamed in agony. Tears fell from her eyes, and blood dripped from her ear. One stud was finally free, but the second one remained in place. She was not sure if she could bring herself to cut again.
Meanwhile, the Smart 100 fought back, sending paralyzing electric impulses through her ear and into her brain. Nearly blinded by the excruciating pain, Joanne finally reached her limit. She tightened her grip on the cooking shears.
Snip.
She continued to feel pain, but it was confined to the area of her two earlobes. The assault on her brain had ceased the moment the second stud was removed.
Although she was no longer at the phone's mercy, Joanne wanted it out of her apartment. After bandaging her bleeding earlobes to the best of her ability, she put the Smart 100 and the bloody studs into a Ziploc bag and drove to the Third Street Bridge. After parking her car nearby, she walked to the center of the bridge and tossed the phone into the river, where it was taken away by the swiftly moving current.
It did not take long for Hermes to locate the phone using their security system. When a representative of the company tried to return it to Joanne, he noticed her mutilated earlobes.
"Go ahead and take my car and my savings. Take everything I have. Sue me if you want to," she cried defiantly. "But I don't want that thing anywhere near me."
After consulting with someone higher up in Hermes's chain of command, the representative decided that if Joanne agreed to keep quiet about her self-mutilation, the company would cancel her contract and refund the previous month's bill.
* * *
On a warm summer morning, Joanne Pitney rose at the usual hour of seven, and after a bowl of Cheerios and a cup of coffee, she got ready for work.
When she stepped outside, she saw a long line of people extending in both directions as far as she could see. All of them were facing the Hermes Store.
I almost forgot. Today's the day the Smart 200 comes out.
She recalled that fateful day five years earlier when she had stood on a similar line. There had been excitement in the air, as those in the queue eagerly awaited the opportunity to own the latest marvel in communications.
Knowing most of the businesses in the city, including the real estate office where she worked, would be closed for the day, she sat down on the stoop and watched the faces of the people as they slowly filed past her. There was not a single smile in the group. They might all have been extras in a movie about the zombie apocalypse. The only emotion she saw was in their eyes. Most looked panicked, some looked lost and others appeared bewildered. She noticed one thing the people waiting in line had in common. They all had Smart 100 studs in their earlobes, no doubt forcing them against their will to upgrade to the latest model.
Joanne smiled, realizing she was one of the extremely rare and lucky ones, for despite her scarred earlobes, she was free.
The phone may be smart, but I'm not so sure about the cat.
