A Simple Shopping Trip
Category: Just Plain Silly... Tech...
Posted Tuesday, March 30, 2004 at 04:56 PM [GMT-6]

Well, let's see what's in today's Wall Street Journal. Oh, here's an interesting article...something about using technology to customize the grocery shopping experience.

Hmmm...boy, that seems to have all sorts of implications. <yawn> Who knows how that technology might evolve? <bigger yawn>

[cue dream sequence; cue music; cue visual transition. dream state loaded...and action]

As I enter the local MegaHyperMart, I grab the closest shopping cart and hang the "BuyPal" monitor from my left ear. Upon contact with my skin, a neural link is made and I'm in communication with the BuyPal operating system, aka GEMIniCrickET. A soothing androgynous voice greets me.

"Hello, Jack. I'm Lane, and I'll be your BuyPal today."

"Hey, Lane; 'sup, dude?" I've found it's best to take the casual approach with these neural personalities; it's just too weird, otherwise. Like, the fact that s/he already knows my name.

We begin in the produce section, where I reach for some navel oranges in one of those red mesh bags. A metal grate slides up silently from a hidden compartment and blocks my grasp.

"Sorry, Jack; I've checked your Affiliate Records in my database and find that you are a member of the Sierra Club. You do realize, don't you, that the mesh bag surrounding those oranges was knit by non-union Bulgarian widows brought via underground railroad to Ecuador for the sole purpose of exploiting the rain forest. I'm afraid we'll have to pass on these oranges."

Rats. I love navel oranges. It gets worse, as every other fruit I try to add to my cart has some attribute deemed unacceptable by my BuyPal.

"Listen, what can I have?"

"Well, Jack, I recommend these persimmons, picked by TxDOT crews from free range trees growing in the right-of-way on the highway between Gainesville and Muenster."

"But, I don't like; persimmons...and these are really gross, anyway."

"Sorry, Jack, but we must take our commitments seriously, mustn't we?"

Mumbling to myself, I proceed to the bakery, where I intend to salve my wounds with a heapin' helpin' of carbs. Just as I'm about to enter, lights begin to flash and a steel gate appears to block my way.

"Oh, Jack...you know you're doing Atkins."

"Come on; cut me some slack, will you?" There's a skinny guy beside me with a shopping cart that's also being blocked due to my carb-craving; he glares at me until I back away enough to allow the gate to disappear. I know better than to try to follow him in.

OK, I didn't want any bread anyway. I head toward the frozen food section; I'm running short on Blue Bell. I turn the corner of the "frozen novelty" aisle and reach for the handle of the glass door behind which the Blue Bell cartons are displayed. I immediately feel the most amazingly painful sensation as a stiff jolt of voltage jumps from the handle to my hand. The room darkens a bit as I contemplate the possibility of fainting right then and there.

"Jack, I recorded your current weight and body mass index as you passed through the entrance sensors, and, frankly, you don't need any Blue Bell for a while."

As my vision clears, I hear a series of metallic clanks going down the aisle, which I recognize as display cases being locked. However, one stays unlocked and is mysteriously illuminated by a golden spotlight. I take that as a cue that I can partake of its contents. Staggering to it, I find that it holds a wide variety of non-fat, calorie- and sugar-free ToFutti, and I pass.

Moving on, I register a muffled shriek of to my left. It seems that a young woman attempting to buy a carton of Virginia Slims has just been informed by her BuyPal that she is pregnant. No smokes today, young lady. And, in a strangely symmetrical tableau, across the aisle from her, a protective grate has just descended over the entire section of "family planning products." Another Roman Catholic is stymied by the PapalEdict patch recently programmed into GEMIniCrickET.

Well, I think to myself, if there's nothing I can eat then I'd better at least buy some vitamins. I try to grab a bottle of Centrum multis and — wouldn't you know it — another freakin' alarm goes off.

"What now?!"

"Jack, I know your driver's license says you're 49, but I've accessed your Life Records in my database and see that your birth certificate puts you at 51. Shame on you for fooling the DPS; I've notified them accordingly. But, in any event, it's Centrum Silver for you, my friend."

This is all giving me a headache. I try to grab a bottle of aspirin and...you guessed it.

"Jack, I note that you are a graduate of Texas A&M. Please allow me to direct you to the bottles without the child-proof cap."

I sigh, and shake my head, feeling utterly defeated. I decide to call it a day, and head for the exit with my old-age vitamins and easy-to-open aspirin.

On my way, I notice some guy trying to hit on a young woman in the medication aisle. She's beginning to respond favorably to him, when suddenly a mechanical arm appears right in front of the guy, holding the biggest container of Preparation H I've ever seen. Another arm appears simultaneously from the other side of the aisle, holding a huge tube of anti-fungal cream. The woman's eyes widen and she whirls her cart around, beating a quick retreat. The guy is left standing there with a horrified look on his face. The mechanical arms slowly retract, still clutching their embarrassing ointments.

"What in Sam Hill was that all about?" I queried Lane.

"Just a minute; let me check. OK; I'm back. Take a look for yourself..." With that, GEMIniCrickET patched a visual into my neuralnet and I saw the rejected man put his hand into his pants pocket and slip his wedding ring back onto his finger. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

As I exited, the system having already tallied my purchase and debited my bank account, I noticed a man being led away by police in handcuffs. "OK, what was that all about?"

"Him? He's a registered pedophile. His BuyPal caught him putting candy and balloons into his shopping cart, and alerted the authorities."

"So, you...all of you...prevented a crime before it happened? Man, that reminds me of a movie I once saw..."

"Jack, you have a nice day. It was a pleasure helping you shop. Please place the monitor and cart back into their proper storage positions. Come again, soon."

[cut dream sequence; cut music; cue visual transition. live state loaded...and action]

<snort>Ummm...wow, what a bizarre dream! I've got to stop mixing canned tamales with mango slices. It was so real; for a while there, I thought I was actually...wait a minute...where am I? Why am I on the floor, looking at ice cream? What the... aaaaaiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!