Terrifying Visions of the Future!
Let me set the scene for you...
It's five o'clock in the morning; pale purplish-grey outside. Cool breeze coming in through the window. My girlfriend and I (plus our cat) are covered by a thin sheet that provides just enough warmth for these late summer months and we are, collectively, enjoying as deep and pleasant a sleep as possible without slipping into a coma. All is right with the world.
Then, this:
"Burglary! Burglary! Burglary!"
Like a baseball thrown through an exquisite stained glass window, I'm awoken. There's burglary afoot, apparently.
"This area is monitored by an automatic security system!"
What? Who's talking? Where am I? As these thoughts scramble through my brain, which is still wrapped in a flannel blanket of foggy sleep, a klaxon starts up, long and loud. It sounded something like this:
"WHOOPWHOOPWHOOPWHOOPWHOOP"
Then, again:
"Burglary! Burglary! Burglary! This area is monitored by an automatic security system! WHOOPWHOOPWHOOPWHOOP"
Maybe it was the shock of it all, or the tinny, canned-recording sound of the voice, or the siren's wail that seemed to come from everywhere at once, but for about twenty seconds I would have sworn up and down that I was living in a dystopian future where the governmental jackboot had long ago stomped the masses into obedient submission and that, presently, the trucks had come to round us all up for "cleansing." I realized, eventually, as I was searching for some anti-establishment literature and a crudely-fashioned contraband rifle to defend my family from the Thought Police, that I was merely in Brooklyn and that our society hadn't yet progressed to the point of a fascist dictatorship (though I suppose that depends on whom you ask).
What a relief! It's just an early-morning robbery attempt!
Eventually all the noise and ruckus quieted and I was able, after a bit, to get back to sleep. But I'll never forget my brush, however imagined, with the nightmarish future. I now know what's in store.
What I'm trying to say is that I'm John Conner. The Terminator should be here any day, for real.
It's five o'clock in the morning; pale purplish-grey outside. Cool breeze coming in through the window. My girlfriend and I (plus our cat) are covered by a thin sheet that provides just enough warmth for these late summer months and we are, collectively, enjoying as deep and pleasant a sleep as possible without slipping into a coma. All is right with the world.
Then, this:
"Burglary! Burglary! Burglary!"
Like a baseball thrown through an exquisite stained glass window, I'm awoken. There's burglary afoot, apparently.
"This area is monitored by an automatic security system!"
What? Who's talking? Where am I? As these thoughts scramble through my brain, which is still wrapped in a flannel blanket of foggy sleep, a klaxon starts up, long and loud. It sounded something like this:
"WHOOPWHOOPWHOOPWHOOPWHOOP"
Then, again:
"Burglary! Burglary! Burglary! This area is monitored by an automatic security system! WHOOPWHOOPWHOOPWHOOP"
Maybe it was the shock of it all, or the tinny, canned-recording sound of the voice, or the siren's wail that seemed to come from everywhere at once, but for about twenty seconds I would have sworn up and down that I was living in a dystopian future where the governmental jackboot had long ago stomped the masses into obedient submission and that, presently, the trucks had come to round us all up for "cleansing." I realized, eventually, as I was searching for some anti-establishment literature and a crudely-fashioned contraband rifle to defend my family from the Thought Police, that I was merely in Brooklyn and that our society hadn't yet progressed to the point of a fascist dictatorship (though I suppose that depends on whom you ask).
What a relief! It's just an early-morning robbery attempt!
Eventually all the noise and ruckus quieted and I was able, after a bit, to get back to sleep. But I'll never forget my brush, however imagined, with the nightmarish future. I now know what's in store.
What I'm trying to say is that I'm John Conner. The Terminator should be here any day, for real.
posted by Clinton at 9:43 AM
1 Comments:
It's even freakier when the recording sounds less like "Burglary! Burglary! Burglary! and more like an electronic recording of your name...I swear to god I woke up to "Emily! Emily! Emily!....Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!"
Freaky.
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