“Drones fly controlled by nothing more than people’s thoughts.” As I read this I begin to understand my former English teacher’s fear and resolution to protect herself against plausible intrusion of her privacy. She called me just now and asked, “Shall I invest in a drone of my own? I can even control it by thoughts! One day I could wear a brain-controlled interface device like I wear a watch, to interact with things around me!”
I gave her this warning I just read, “Once I know what the readings look like from your brain in a certain situation, I’ll be able to recognize you by that pattern again later on,” (a neuroscientist warns amid rise of computers that can read our minds.)
It is a frightening thought to manipulate and be manipulated by technology in the future world. Can any human avoid this invasion? I am pondering and hearing footsteps. Someone is at my front gate. No, not one person. It sounds like several people. What can they be doing? I mute my Mr. Bean and peep through the curtain at the French window. What a strange sight of grown men holding their mobiles, walking as dazed, gazing up and down, talking to themselves.
When I switch to BBC news, I read this on-screen: “Pokemon Go, a mobile game that has become a global phenomenon, has been released in the UK. It was already available in the US, Australia and Germany but some UK gamers found ways around the country restriction to get early access. The app lets players roam a map using their phone’s GPS location data and catch Pokemon to train and battle.”
Someone presses my door bell. Waving his mobile, he indicates he wants to enter my front yard which possibly is now infested wth creatures from virtual outer-space. I pretend I am not at home. My dog Gracie barks and jumps ferociously. But the man does not go away. He opens his mouth and says something. The commotion is deafening.
But like my former English teacher now being trained to teach German as second language, I too have my Plan-B. I duly put on my wig, floral skirt and fake gold-teeth and walk into the garden with a mop and a tin pail. I start speaking an unknown language in a falsetto. I wave my mop at him, reinforcing my lone brave dog. When he refuses to budge I pour the water on the ground and start banging the tin pail with the tin plate which is in Grace’s dog house. *
What happens now? You should see the poor man running down the street. Many others run behind him. What a sight. I treat Gracie with her favorite bacon snack, and me my favorite yam ice cream with coconut flavor.
*Explanatory notes: the disguised dressing is meant to give the message that I don’t know their language. The banging of stuff is to make loud metal noise which is an ancient oriental traditional practice during eclipse of the sun.