I was in the computer section of Borders, just idly leafing through various 1,000 page tomes. These were the next, and perhaps last, generation of actual paper-paged books. Hybrids. When you open the cover you were faced with not a title page, but a wafer-thin touchscreen. This included the title information of course, but also a directory of illustrations and graphics, a search window, and various choices of voices and talking heads who would read the book to you if you desired. Five points indented at the bottom of the screen page were the keyboard. you placed your fingers and thumb in the points and moved each digit left/right/up/down/in to choose letters and symbols.
Anyway. I overhear two housewife types discussing the need for a new website for their new child. (Yes, the child conceived between these two women.) I volunteer. One of them thanks me and says: "Oh! You have a jar!" I smile humbly. "Yes, I have a code jar. Where shall we do this?"
Next I am walking across a parking lot towards a McDonalds. I am wearing a full length black duster coat, and a faded brown cowboy hat. I have a single strap satchel across my back, and a gallon mason jar under my arm.
Inside the restaurant I spot the moms and their laptop at one of the tables. Their infant is lying on the table, playing with a ketchup packet. I tip my hat to the ladies and then remove the mason jar and set it on the table next to the child. The jar at first appears to be empty, but if you stare at it for a few seconds you can detect a faint swirling static. The jar is faintly opaque, but more with movement than substance. Every few seconds you can see a ricochet as a piece of HTML code lands flat on the side of the jar and sticks for a split second before bouncing away. The baby reaches out and touches the side of the jar, feeling the tiny hum that is generated from within. I take off my hat and coat, placing them on the empty fourth chair, and then place the satchel down on the table. I greet the moms.
Turning my attention to the computer I bring up a blank word document on the screen. I adjust the size so it only takes up half of the screen area and then I minimize it. Then I reach into my satchel and extract a plastic funnel. This fits into a socket on the top of the computer screen. I raise the mason jar and start unscrewing the lid. As I do I can sense the code inside slowing down and waiting - expectantly? - for its new home. I slowly pour the contents of the jar into the computer. There is almost nothing to see being transferred. Almost. But in the computer though there is now a chaotic whirwind of millions of scraps of HTML code flying all around a 3-D looking environment exploring its new surroundings at dizzying speeds. Imagine the contents of a fortune cookie factory in a cyclotron. There is a tiny, inifinitesimal sound, like a billion watch alarms a mile away. While the moms and their kid watch, fascinated, I return the funnel to the stachel and extract a black leather glove with a USB cord dangling from the wrist. I put on the glove and plug the cord into a socket on the side of the laptop. Now I have virtual tweezers on the screen, and I can chase the elusive code around the 'room'.
"Where do you start?" One of the women asks. I smile, but focus still on the screen. "You start with the slowest piece of code - the one that is connected to all of the rest." A few seconds go by and then I suddenly stab my gloved hand in a pincher motion. "Gotcha! Riding behind that Table weren't you? Trying to disguise yourself as an Image Source tag, weren't you?" I take the struggling scrap of characters and drag and drop it into the word document on the screen. The document now says: "search" with a blnking cursor next to it. I remove the virtual reality glove and type in "HTML". I slightly sharper beep is heard as the code scrap is sucked into the page. I place this at the top of the page, and then in turn type in "BODY", "HEAD", and "TITLE".
"Now," I say leaning back at looking at the Moms. "What shall we name it?"
Sometime later, judging from the pile of fast food trash on the table, I retreive the mason jar from its nest on my jacket on the empty seat. I spin the computer around and locate a hidden flip-up panel along the edge. Pushing the button a small black spigot smoothly slides out of the machine. ³Come on fellows, time to go home² I say. I hold the open jar under the spigot and then turn the handle. All of the remaining pieces of code pour out of the screen and back into the jar. I push the button again and the spigot folds up neatly back into the seam of the laptop.
One of the Moms is already hooked into the new website, jumping around from page to page, seeing the photos of her child, the funny captions, the links, the headlines and text, and everything else we added in. The other mom though is watching the open jar. ³What do we owe you?² She asks warily. I smile, reaching for my satchel. ³Nothing. I had a big meal, and your daughter there is off to a good start in this best of all possible worlds. That is payment enough.² She nods, pleased but also a little spooked. Then she gestures to the jar. ³What about - them? Donıt you need to buy more?² I shrug, placing a small tupperware container down next to the jar. ³Naah. Theyıre almost self-replicating. Theyıll have a copy and paste party after theyıve been fed.² She blanches. ³Fed? What does code - eat?²
I open the tupperware and extract a small cube of grey meat. ³Brain. Code will eat your brain, one little morsel at a time.² I drop the cube into the jar and then quickly close the lid tightly. The barely visible cloud of code begins spinning faster and faster, barely sensed, and faintly audible. I look back up into a look of horror on the her face. I smile reassuringly. ³Or a pigs brain. Theyıre pretty smart too.² She relaxes a bit, but not completely. I put on my duster and hat and then the satchel over my shoulder. Lastly I pick up the jar, the cube at the bottom growing fuzzy with the faintly blurry feeding frenzy. I nod at the one mom, who is holding the child and still staring strangely at me, and at the other, who is still locked into her daughters virtual world.
I exit the McDonalds feeling the eyes of the mom on the back of my neck, searching for the hidden spigot that we both know is there.
My newest website - which I am now going to take a break from - can be found HERE.Back to the land of Dreams.