Soapbox

Get A Life

 So I’ve got this kid…and he decided that he needed to have a virtual pet. A friend at Cub Scout camp had one, and he was enthralled, like millions of other kids this summer. I had never heard of the things until then.
    There are virtual puppies and virtual kittens, but the particular kind he wanted was a Tomagatsu, which is a cyber alien. Now personally, I think the things are about as exciting as a stop watch and will soon go the way of pet rocks. I suspect that Tomagatsu is Japanese for "Laughing all the way to the bank". But he had $25 in birthday money from his grandma, so we told him that he could buy his own. Easier said than done, as it turned out.

    We traveled to 3 stores and called 3 more and succeeded only  in getting put on a waiting list for the next shipment. A few weeks later Stephen found, not a virtual alien, but a virtual dinosaur. For a child whose alter ego used to be a dinosaur, what could be better?
          Oh, the excitement in the Meisky household when the egg hatched and out popped a LCD blob that was supposed to be a baby dinosaur! Imagine Stephen’s thrill when he got to clean up his first virtual poop.  Updates on "Tommy’s" growth and development were shared with the neighbors and with cousins over the internet.
         Of course, as with any relationship, things weren’t always easy. Stephen had a distressing habit of putting the thing down and then forgetting where it was. Once his baby cousin hid it in a box of magic tricks. We could hear Tommy calling, like a tiny pager, for food or a clean-up or whatever it was he wanted, but we couldn’t tell where  in the room the sound was coming from. We spent 20 minutes like wildlife researchers tracking a tiger with a radio collar.  We were trying to triangulate on the signal, standing in different parts of the room and  pointing to the direction we thought the signal was coming from. ("I think it was over near the bathroom." "No, it sounded like it was near the computer.")

     And there were conflicts over cyber-care responsibilities. I asked Stephen if he had decided what he was going to do with Tommy when school starts, since he clearly can’t be taking time out of his math test to be putting a hat on his cybersaur because his display screen says he’s too hot. He suggested that since I’m home during the day, I could babysit.
          "Oh no!" I said. "I watch your cousin, I look after the dog and I even clean up after your sister’s turtle. I absolutely draw the line at cleaning up after your pet watch!" Stephen  gave me a look of horror and disbelief.
          "Mom, I can’t believe that you would let Tommy die! You know if he isn’t cared for properly, he’ll get sick and die. How could you do that?"  I forbore mentioning that the thing was a couple of silicon chips in a cheap plastic case and just walked out of the room.

           Well, as luck would have it, Tommy didn’t live to see the start of school. He fell victim to a tragic childhood accident when his father wasn’t watching him close enough. Tommy’s "Aunt" Katie accidently sprayed him with the hose, and after a day or two the moisture started corroding the contacts inside the case. He underwent 45 minutes of intense surgery by my husband, the Computer Doctor, and seemed to be making a good recovery. The next day he was caught in the crossfire of a neighborhood squirtgun war. Stephen rushed him home and Ted got the hairdryer to dry out the components. I was next door, and got a phone call over there.
       "Um, Trace, yeah… where did you get Tommy?" Ted asked me muffled voice that told me he was casting furtive glances over his shoulder to  be certain Stephen couldn’t overhear the conversation. "I had the case open and the phone rang and I bumped it off  the table when I got up to answer it…and it’s history now. So I"m going to try to buy him another one real fast."

        The truth came out when Ted couldn’t find the exact same virtual toy, but hey, "Dinky" looked like alot of fun, and Stephen said that he would do. Until 11:00 that night when he appeared at my bedside, clutching his new toy, and whispering that he just couldn’t stop thinking of Tommy and missing him.
    Oh, the urge to tell him what I thought of his wasting my night’s sleep was mighty strong! Gritting my teeth, I managed to say instead that I sympathized with his sadness and suggested that he occupy his mind by thinking of names for his new pet. I suggested a couple of silly ones and he was giggling to himself when he went back to bed.

          Since that day, Dinky has been a part of the family. Many’s the time I’ve put aside the ironing or stopped washing the dishes long enough to yell, "Stephen! Dinky wants you!" We watched together as Dinky "grew" arms and legs. One morning, Dinky sprouted wings, and none of his buttons seemed to work. We wondered if this is just what happens when a cyberpet is all grown up, or if he had a malfunction. I suggested waiting for a few minutes and trying again, but Stephen had his mind made up.
         "I’m going to erase him and start again." he announced.
    I could hardly believe my ears.
         "For crying out loud, son! For someone who was upset at my cruelty for refusing to babysit your toy, you’re mighty quick to perform euthenasia now. Give the little bugger a chance!"
         But the deed was already done. The screen now showed nothing but a little egg, rocking gently back and forth. Oh callow youth!

         Dinky II  is a few days old now, and has another two weeks to "live" until his owner goes off to school and Mom is faced with the moral dilemma of letting him starve or pulling the plug.
    Or, I suppose I could push a few buttons on the dumb thing…as long as no one is watching…