Distinguishing Features Part 3/8

Notstalgia had various events and entertainments. The branches were known as coffeehouses gone rough. This particular branch arranged clearances to play and show everything. But it had become hard to access new music and video during the info droughts which at times were concurrent with particularly tough periods in the ongoing power famine. Josh, the owner of that Notstalgia beside the river, thought that he had a solution when he found a small film projector at a flea market. These were the machines that ran the first generation of motion picture medium. The projector had an indestructible label glued to it, with a bar code, stating that it was ‘Property of the AV Department, Jefferson High School.’ Julie told Josh that such a machine would absolutely suck up power. But Josh was adamant. It could be used when info was down and power was up. The projector came with a collection of film reels. And I mean film. Some of the reels came without labels, so Julie sorted through them, quickly eliminating some as unentertaining. Then she took the first reel of three from an unlabeled box, and in that back room of Notstalgia pointed the thing at a light-colored wall, and, using faint instructions printed on the side of the machine, attempted to ‘thread the film’.

            Which is equal to writing your own code to access such entertainment. It’s difficult.

            Other Notstalgia employees were repelled by the sheer intensity, and had to avert their eyes or even flee the jurisdiction as Julie reveled in this task set before her- a martyred explorer working with early 20^th century technology. Others couldn’t help but listen to her exquisite lecture on English profanity as she attributed evil proclivities to the machine, calling on, then cursing deities, then, silence. An ultra-rapid clicking noise. Then a squeal from our heroine. Two eavesdropping employees rushed in to the rescue- to halt the gears of that monstrosity which they were sure were chomping on the rosy paws of Julie, but they could just see her dark profile set against a lit wall and hear her soprano boom.

            “Is that who I think it is? I think I’ve seen this before.”

            All three stood and sighed and confirmed the sight which was nearly hallucinatory. Indeed, there on the wall was Charlie Chaplin.

            So, forget availability and accessibility, permission was sought and paid for and granted from the powers that be and a short performance by a Punk Accordionist was bumped back to precede a viewing of Modern Times. The house was packed that evening.

            A good time was had by all as they watched the film projected on a white board until two thirds of the way through. Then the projector bulb popped. In other words, there was sound, but no picture.

            There was much cursing and groaning and rustling about as the audience searched for alternative sources of light, and Julie was gone.

            Some sympathized with her. Others commented that it was the only strategy she could employ. Then a theory gained force: She was far away, bent on a bender. But it was corrected. If that were the case, she would have stayed. After all, Julie had an employee discount.

            Then irrepressible Julie shot through the back room door with a handful of markers. She paused facing the board, obviously implementing some trusted exit strategy, and now lit through curiosity began to write the lyrics of the film’s theme song on the board.

                        Julie knew the words to ‘Smile’. Her mother was of the stage variety. Some patrons began to sing early, and she nodded, patted the text, then- ‘shit’, filled in the letters she’d accidentally rubbed off and completed that mundane task.

                        Armed with a broomstick she coaxed the tiny crowd, pointing its tip at the words. And they sang. The bonus came when, after the tune and lyrics were well internalized, she chose Austin to lead the encore. He did have a Chaplainesque quality, like the Little Tramp transplanted to some university quad but, unlike the film icon- completely, consciously bereft of sweet options. Some missed the nuance Julie gave the tune, though. There’s a chance that she was channeling Paulette Goddard that night.

            Promises were made, a bulb would be found, and the last reel was already threaded. Jack came to mind as the potential connection for the needed incandescent bulb. Special permits were required but impossible. Otherwise, possession was fine, but sale- illegal. Jack wasn’t sticking his neck out much, though, scoring the bulbs, and he brought a three-pack to Notstalgia a week later. For his pains, he got the boot. He didn’t get the Bruce treatment, if that’s what you’re thinking. No- as a finder’s fee he got a Bierstiefel. A German-style beer glass shaped like a boot and filled with a liter of macrobrew.

            Many Notstalgites kept an eye on him, all on tenterhooks wondering if he knew to drink that last bit out of the boot in the proper way. But Jack nursed it slow, pacing to and fro, since he was distracted by another issue, as strange and complex as any he had come across. Austin knew of it. Certain elements in Jack’s life had converged and he had been summoned to a rite of passage that came to many men in that day and age. He had been sent an application to join NADM. The National Association of Disaffected Males. This was through an app that was automatically loaded into his com ring, and there was little that he could do about it. Jack found himself wishing that the ring would just do what com rings do, which is provide voice, text and time, but he wasn’t nearly rich enough for that blissful privilege. He would check his ring for the time and it would inform him that the time had come for him to join NADM. This newly-arrived app came with Pseudo AI routing, which meant that he had a smart-ass on his left ring finger. And it wouldn’t take maybe for an answer. So he tried switching the ring to his right hand, but the app was ready for that. Austin told him to just say ‘yes’ and get the discount on psycho-qualm medication, but Jack refused to commit. On top of it all, Jack knew full well that his strong ambivalence to the offer was based in his own lack of affect.

‘Herma’ was the voice he originally had for apps in his ring. He didn’t want a guy on his finger, nor did he want a lady. But then his smooth indecision broke down and he chose ‘female’ just before the app kicked in with the surprise. Now he felt that he had lost some sort of chance to change the voice, although he could have at any point, in a trice.

            So, Jack lounged in Notstalgia that night sucking a boot and trying to ignore his newfound girlfriend; back on his left hand. Then he rose without a word and sauntered over to and through the ‘Employees Only’ door to the back room. He had a pass through the myriad services he provided to the shop.

            “Gotta finish the boot soon, that’s what it’s designed for, Jack-a-lope.”

            Julie was at the sink, sudsy to the elbow with the glasses never done.

            “German engineering. And remember: Toe to the side.”

            Jack snuffled, sipped and watched. The bar smell was more pronounced here in the heart of things. Tart beer and lavender.

            Pseudo AI meant that devices did what they wanted. The ring he wore monitored health, hormone levels, and whatever affect the owner displayed. Jack began- “I’m…”

            “Quite disaffected,” the ring chimed in at exactly fifty decibels. Now there was a third person in the room. Julie turned and gaped and shook the suds off her forearms. Jack tried again, tipping his boot back toward the Notstalgia floor.

            “We’re…”

            “All trying to help Jack with his disaffectation,” the ring interrupted. Julie dropped a glass into the large industrial sink, then stared at Jack with a curious, concerned, perhaps angry look. She caught herself from reaching into the sink, hit the plug lever instead, and walked over to Jack, very affected.

            And so seemed the ring, as Jack stood there limp. Now he was just a bootstand. A ring-tree. And not just Pseudoartificialintelligent, but close to Julie’s equal in affect, the ring sensed a lull in the conversation and set out to fill it.

            “Jack needs to join The National Association of Disaffected Males…”

            “Jack is fine!” Julie took the bait. The ring paused.

            “Jack Blue is fine in what respect?”

            Jack leaned forward, chuckling, and realized that the fullish boot of beer was limiting his movement. “Don’t even get into it…” He chugged. Julie waved him off and stepped up to his hand.

            “Jack may be disaffected, but his mind is fine.”

            “What are you, a doctor?”

            “No. A friend.”

            “Then you shouldn’t let him muddle through life disaffected. Wait. Accessing… You’re Julie Rose.”

            Jack thought that he would take in a casual length of beer at this point, but he realized that he had the toe up, so he spun the glass and it sloshed a bit onto the floor. This was certain to bring a blue jay scold from Julie under normal conditions, but she was intent on having Jack’s ring leave him be.

            “Yes, I am.”

            “You could do better than wash glasses.”

            Jack took action, putting the glass on a counter and taking off the ring. The power button was on the inside. Julie shook her head at him.

            “We were talking about Jack Blue.”

            And, pause.

            “That is correct. You’re smart. Tell him to join.”

            “That’s his choice!”

            “No man is an island.”

            “That depends!”

            “Accessing…”

            Julie shouted at the ring.

“Yeah. You access.”

            Jack shook his head and inserted his pinky nail into the back of the ring. Julie raised a hand of halt, cocked her head and waited for the ring’s reply.

            “…There is a direct correlation between those rare instances when Jack Blue exhibits positive affect and his physical proximity to you, Julie Rose.”

             Jack pressed the button and mumbled a ‘sorry’ to Julie. She grinned and headed

to the door.

            “Don’t be. Um.”

            She paused before she left.

            “I gotta go put that on the bathroom wall while I can still remember it.”