Looking back there seems to be a higher unseen hand balancing the Scale that makes something meaningful out of the day of madness with the young nerd running as the inverted invisible man! The millennial somewhat immature nerd of course cannot be concerned about whether it is a dream or a reality as he races on with Gracie, the Dronesville mascot dog. Here is his account of what happens next. It requires a further balancing of scale as he continues in the great Dronesville treasure hunting adventure. Read on…
AS I race on with the 1972 mothers with prams, I soon discover there is no longer anyone but me and the dog. I can hear the sound of rushing water. Gracie starts barking to show me the way. I reach down and wash my face. Then I look again, What? Water! I can see sparkling water! My physical vision has restored itself. Well, I might as well take a chillax* in the pool. The surrounding is scenic yet unreal because there is no pool or pond in Dronesville except that nasty pond where people rear baby terrapins for sale. Where is this? Is this inside the Hyper-loop lab? It is daytime but there is no one around. There are shrubs all around the pool.
A voice appears from nowhere. “Come up here!” What?! It sounds exactly like my boss the English lord! Then it repeats the command. What choice do I have? Zero. I look at Gracie and she nods as if she reads mind. I climb up and walk towards the voice through the parting shrubs which open to a building so low that you would not normally notice unless you are the same height as my dog. What is the boss doing inside this dog house? “Come in here!” He is indeed inside! He repeats his command a second time. What does one not do for the treasure hunting adventure? I sigh and crawl inside the dog house with Gracie. It is an entrance to a tunnel. Instead of going downward it ascends up to another building presumably well hidden and camouflaged outside and draws no notice from the normal Dronesville residents. It has a narrow hall and the boss is waiting, wearing a mask over his mouth again. As we move forward in silence I can sense this is a transitional space into either neutral or hostile territory. The boss is well equipped digitally as usual and knows when to move or halt as he listens to the instructions from messages received in his robotic head-gear.
I can now only wonder whether I am Johnny England again or an unnamed millennial digital hero in DIY virtual comics. “Stop mind wandering. Focus!” The boss warns in silence. O, I have forgotten that we are digitally wired (through the mind-reading robots we are wearing) to share thoughts. “But boss, now that we have the dog Gracie and the drone (which has appeared and is resting on Gracie’s back) back, we better get on with our real business, treasure hunting!” I think back. He replies, “That’s exactly what we are doing now! Stop murmuring! Start smelling!” Ouch, his thoughts are ever so loud!
I faithfully turn on my exceptionally sharp smelling faculty and start imagining a generous share of the bounty. I smell at each of the many doors we walk pass and shake my head. How do I differentiate between valuable treasures and old metal trash? Believe me, there is a significant difference detectable by the gifted smelling specialist.
Gracie suddenly races pass us and the boss decides to run after her. She gallops ahead as if pulled by an invisible force. I run too. They run I run. The drone is way ahead of everyone. The hall ends at a door. The drone hoovers near it and Gracie stops, turns to look at us, swings her head back to point at the door. She is pretty good at using her head to talk to us. Her head movement signifies that we are to open it, which is the boss’ responsibility, since he hoards and not shares all his high tech gadgets.
As the door opens a gush of cold wind comes through powerfully as if it’s a wilderness out there! We shiver. The boss halts after he walks one step forward and looks down. The drone swiftly disappears into the hole in the ground, followed by Gracie who jumps in without hesitation. The boss jumps. I jump. (To be continued)
* “chillax”: chill and relax