The Eighth Page

Queen of the Robots

The other day I was in the PACC, and I realized that I am technologically challenged. The first hint of my incompetence was when I realized I forgot my ID card. Thinking that I was indeed a cunning little fox, I took a piece of cardboard and held it up to the bleepy thing. I waited, and waited, and waited, all the while thinking that this was a lot like that blind date on which my roommate once tried to set me up. Finally, the work duty kid sitting at the desk looked up from her Computer 650 books and asked if I needed help. “Yeah, my ID isn’t scanning,” I said nonchalantly. She looked at me and then at my sad little piece of cardboard and then back at me. Then she said, “Just go.” As I walked away, high-fiving myself for thinking of such a good plan, I think I heard her mumble something about “those damn artsyfartsy kids who take up so much bandwidth with their Kazaa…” but she was probably talking about some other Kazaa obsessive. I then sat down at a computer. I successfully checked my e-mail. My “inbox” wasn’t “empty,” as it usually is! I looked around to see if anyone, particularly that stupid girl I had fooled with my good old ID- made-of-cardboard trick, had seen how technologically skilled I was. Then I realized that I had just taken someone else’s computer, and it was their e-mail and not mine. When I sat down at my own computer, the buttons intimidated me, and I ran away crying. What I needed was a technology makeover. My immediate reaction – to go on TV – failed. Unfortunately, no reality TV show features Internet-confounded folk such as I. I called up everyone I knew. Then, as if my life couldn’t get any worse, I had the horrifying realization that the reason my calls never went through was because I have been dialing calculators my whole life. At this point, I would like to send out a touching, Features-style shout-out to everyone who can identify with the problems I’ve mentioned in this article. Yo, my ill bruthas and sistas, we gotsta join up and fight this oppressive technobattle, ya heard? We gotsta educate ourselves and master this technology ish. Holla. I know, I know. I know what you’re thinking, because I am psychic. This technology stuff is confusing, and Techmasters are just out of my league parietalwise, after they stopped returning my calls to come turn on my hairdryer. I thought along those lines too. Then I had an idea that I can honestly say is in the top three ideas I have ever had in my life (numbers one and two being the Constitution and that phallic symbol outside the library, respectively). My idea is this: Andover should create a new cluster, tearing down old Abbot Campus in a huge women-bashing ceremony and constructing a large, spherical building. In the edifice, there would be technology clinics for kids like us. We’d all trek down there and enter this miraculous superworld. To make us feel more at ease in our new environment of technology, all clinic session would be taught by really friendly robots. Eventually, this would become the hippest, most happening locale, because the robots would be so nice and be able to play Nelly from their navels. Students, faculty, and staff would come together in perfect harmony with the aid of these robots in this magical sphere of technology. I propose we call this new, magnificent development PA’s very first Robodome.