Richtel - Devils Plaything

DEVILS

PLAYTHING

MATT

RICHTEL

For My Grandparents

Pillars

The number of people suffering acute memory loss is doubling every twenty years.

Shipments of computer memory are doubling every two years.

Are these two statistics related?

More than you dare imagine.

Contents

TRANSCRIPT FROM THE HUMAN MEMORY CRUSADE.
JANUARY 17, 2010

Human Memory Crusade:

Thank you.

We appreciate your participation in our effort to record this nations incredible history.

We hope the brief instruction you have received has been helpful to you. As you have learned, your task is simple. Just read the questions and answer into the microphone. Well take care of recording and storing your stories for your children, grandchildren and generations to come.

When you have finished answering a question, please hit the enter key.

If you are having trouble remembering something, dont worry. Just say: I cant remember. You may also skip a question by hitting the enter key.

Even though I am a computer, I have an artificial brain. I have been programmed to listen for key words and use them to have a conversation with you. Think of me as your friend.

In the corner of the screen, you can see your image in a box. This is captured by a small camera on the top of the computer monitor. If your image is not in the middle of the box, please move slightly to the left or the right so that your image is in the middle.

Let us begin.

ARE YOU A RETURNING PARTICIPANT?

This is not my first time.

SORRY, WE DID NOT UNDERSTAND YOUR ANSWER. ARE YOU A RETURNING PARTICIPANT? YES, OR NO?

Yes.

THANK YOU. WHAT IS YOUR NAME? IF POSSIBLE, PLEASE INCLUDE YOUR MIDDLE NAME.

Lane Eliza Idle. I go by Lane. Lane Idle.

THANK YOU. WHAT IS YOUR BIRTHDATE AND PASSWORD?

WE WILL KEEP CONFIDENTIAL ALL PERSONAL IDENTIFIERS. WE NEED THIS INFORMATION TO FIND YOUR FILE IN OUR DATABASE.

My birthday is June 17, 1924. My password is... What is it with computers and passwords?

IM SORRY. WE DIDNT UNDERSTAND YOUR ANSWER.

Pigeon. My password is pigeon.

THANK YOU. PLEASE WAIT WHILE WE FIND YOUR FILE.

LANE IDLE, WE HAVE FOUND YOUR FILE IN OUR SYSTEM. WE WILL CONTINUE WHERE YOU LEFT OFF. YOU ARE 85 YEARS OLD?

Between us, I still tell everyone Im 77.

DID YOU SAY YOU ARE 77 YEARS OLD?

No, Im joking. You dont do too well with humor.

WHEN YOU WERE YOUNGER YOU LIVED IN DENVER. IS THAT CORRECT?

Yes.

WHEN WE LAST SPOKE, YOU SAID YOUR HUSBAND DROVE A CHEVROLET. IS THAT CORRECT?

I dont remember. Im having a lot more trouble remembering things.

DID YOU SAY THAT YOU DONT REMEMBER THAT YOUR HUSBAND DROVE A CHEVROLET?

Yes.

NO PROBLEM. WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONTINUE WITH YOUR STORY OF YOUR CHILDHOOD IN DENVER?

Im not used to talking at a computer. Or to a computer. Im not sure which is the best preposition. I used to be an English teacher, I think I told you that. In college, I wrote my thesis about Huckleberry Finn. I think he was misunderstood. Everyone thinks hes so adventurous. He was. But I think of him as more of a true American. You know... always looking for something better. He had a short attention span, like they talk about on all the talk shows on the radio and television. I... Ive lost my place. What was I talking about?

ARE YOU FINISHED?

ARE YOU STILL THERE? WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONTINUE WITH YOUR STORY?

(Laughter) Youre very persistent. You remind me of my brother, Leonard. He was so curious, and once he got hold of an idea he just wouldnt let go of it. (Pause) Well, anyway. Denver. I really havent started telling that story. Denver was so green and quiet then, before the world got paved over with concrete and everyone started carrying around those silly phones. But its not really a story about Denver. Its about war. Bad things that happen during war, or because of it, maybe. Or maybe war was just an excuse. To be honest, Im not sure that I want to tell the story after all. I know this is silly, but, well, Im wondering if I can trust you. Can I really expect a bunch of wires and plastic and Lord knows what else to process my information or keep it private if I say so?

I THINK YOUVE ASKED WHETHER THE INFORMATION YOU SHARE WITH ME IS PRIVATE. IS THAT CORRECT?

Yes. That is correct.

OUR RECORDS INDICATE THAT YOU HAVE SIGNED RECORDS RELEASING THIS INFORMATION ONLY UPON YOUR PASSING. AT THAT POINT, IT WILL BECOME AVAILABLE AS PART OF A RECORD OF MEMORIES AND LIFE STORIES THAT WILL HELP FUTURE GENERATIONS UNDERSTAND THE 20TH CENTURY AND PEOPLE WHO LIVED THROUGH IT.

Does that mean that this information will be secret until I die?

THIS INFORMATION WILL REMAIN SECRET UNTIL YOUR PASSING.

Good. May I say something?

DID YOU ASK IF YOU CAN SAY SOMETHING? IF SO, YOU ARE FREE TO SAY ANYTHING YOU WANT.

You have to keep my secrets until I die.

ARE YOU STILL THERE?

Please.

ARE YOU FINISHED? DO YOU WISH TO CONTINUE?

People will get hurt. A lot of people. People I care about. I dont want anyone to get hurt, especially my grandson, Nathaniel. I dont want to be too dramatic about it, but I guess youd say my story is a little dangerous. My grandson is... well, hes a little bit like Huck Finn. He could go off and do something crazy. Just like his grandmother.

M y big toe is exposed and my companion lost in the world beyond.

I look down and see my digit poking through the strained fabric at the top of my black canvas high-tops. They are worn thin by an opposition to shopping that borders on the pathological and by a paltry freelance journalists income that of late has put shoe upgrades out of reach.

Other than my aerated toe, Golden Gate Park is warm, incongruously so given the descending darkness. But such is late October in San Francisco, where the seasons are as offbeat and contrarian as the residents.

Grandma Lane, should I get a new pair of shoes, or just really thick socks and hope for the quick onset of global warming?

I smile at her but see shes looking off into the distance.

Nathaniel, did we see that man earlier?

Its a not unexpected non sequitur. My grandmother has dementia. For her, dusk is literal and proverbialher memory heading quickly into that good night. A month ago, I found her trying to iron her bed linens with a box of Kleenex.

She holds tightly to my hand. I feel aging skin pulled loosely over skeleton.

What man, Grandma?

That one. She points with her free hand over my shoulder.

Her continuity surprises me. I turn to look. In the fading light, I see a figure disappear into a thick patch of trees half a football field away.

Danger, she says.

Its okay, Lane. Its nothing.

She stops and looks at me.

Lets go home, she says quietly.

Shes right. Its time to get her back to Magnolia Manor. Weve spent the day together for Take Your Grandparents to Work Day. It consisted mostly of a long lunch, a trip to her dentists office, where she refused to get out of the car, and of her watching me interview a pharmaceutical-industry executive on the phone for a magazine story Im writing. Then pistachio ice cream. A day in the life of a medical journalist is boring but filled with snacks.

Our walk in the park is a last indulgence with my old friend who does double duty as my fathers mother. She loves the park, and walking here. Forty years ago, she moved to Northern California from Denver and, in her more lucid days, she used to say that Golden Gate Parks majesty was sufficient proof that pioneers were right to cross the country in covered wagons. I would point out that there was no Golden Gate Park at the time. And she would respond that shed thought I was smart enough to take her meaning, and then wait a beat and smile.