Lou Milner - Magic Specs

Magic Specs

(The Optimist)

by Lou Milner

Reata was a conundrum: one of those annoyingly optimistic people who always looked on the bright side of life, except when she was feeling low, in which case, she was more of a pessimist. But those times were rare. Even though life was usually pretty good, and she herself was often heard uttering the dreaded words "Cheer up, all will work out in the end, yuh?" she absolutely hated happy endings. In fact, Reata hated happy endings so much that even if she'd had a stupendous day culminating in a seat at the movies, if the movie had a happy ending, she'd be in a foul mood till bedtime. "Life's not like that," she'd moan.

One day, after viewing a typically insipid movie, Reata went out for a coffee with her very good friend Wal, a divorcee who lived in a dilapidated trailer with her three small children and ex-mother-in-law. Not surprisingly, Wal was partial to, and waiting for, her very own happy ending. The movie they'd gone to see on this particular evening was All's Well That Ends Well, a cliché-riddled piece of tripe to be sure. However, despite the twaddle, both women seemed to enjoy themselves. Wal was pleased because Helena, the commoner, finally got Bertram, the count of Rousillon, to marry her. And Reata was pleased because Count Bertram had been tricked and was now stuck with Helena the commoner forever.

At any rate, whilst dissecting the film afterward, Wal noticed a guy across the restaurant staring at her. She said to Reata, "Don't look, but see that guy over by the wall with the red jacket and the curly brown hair? I think he's staring at me."

Reata obediently did not look. "Are you sure he's staring at you, not me?"

"Pretty sure," said Wal. "What am I going to do?"

"Do you think he knows we're talking about him?" asked Reata.

"Am I being obvious?" said Wal, covering her mouth in her hand and looking nonchalantly out the window into the blackness.

"Who is he? Do you know him?" asked Reata.

"He does look kinda familiar… oh-oh, he's not alone, a woman just came out of the washroom and sat down with him."

"Is he still looking at you?" asked Reata.

"No, he's looking at her," said Wal.

"Hmmm, you know, " speculated Reata, who lives for, and loves, computers, "it's too bad someone didn't inwent a microchip that you could implant under your skin. It would send a kind of signal, yuh, to let the man know you're awailable."

"Right! Because you know, I'm thinking 'there's an interesting-looking guy,' and I'm looking at him and he's looking at me, and just when I'm working up the courage to go over there, a woman shows up. Probably his wife. And he's probably got more kids than I do waiting at home for Papa. Or maybe she's not his wife and he's screwing around on her. I bet that's it."

Reata, not paying any attention to her friend, was still fixated on the microchip idea.

"But if he had a chip and you had a chip, yuh, then you'd both know where the dip was."

"Yeah, but I don't want to be dipping around with a guy who's already married and has eight kids. Too gooey. ...wait a minute, I recognize the skull and crossbones on his jacket. That's my pharmacist and her husband. No wonder he looked familiar. Incidentally, they do have eight kids."

That night Reata went to bed excited about the microchip implant. She couldn't shake it from her mind. She tossed and turned, and finally got out of bed and sat down at her keyboard. Her mind was filled with what if, what if, what if, yuh. If this, then that, yuh. Etc. If she could write a program that would perfectly match indiwiduals, perhaps her own reasonably-adequate life would have a sappy ending, too, and hers would be another sickening case of life imitating art. Perhaps she would meet a computer programmer who is an excellent cook, wery outdoorsy, self-sufficient, and has at least half a head of hair, yuh?

Would the microchip fly? She would talk to her friend Taylor. True, he was from a different platform--Unix, while she was SQL server--but he still might have something to contribute. Coincidentally, or not, Taylor had already been kicking this idea around with his pal Stan. Clearly, molecules were colliding, and something big was about to happen.

Taylor was aghast. He and his buddy would have to move quickly. If Reata were thinking similar thoughts, who knows how many others were plotting micro-matchmaking. He told her straight: Anything requiring surgery, no matter how minor, was, in his mind, not a good idea. Fortunately, Taylor and his buddy Stan were on top of it. Their plan would require no surgery whatsoever, and if she wanted to be involved, she could develop the database. Reata thought, yuh, wery exciting.

Soon the three of them were eating and sleeping micro-matching. Their plan was simple: dewelop a set of questions; get people to answer the questions. Then, based on the answers, people with similar sensibilities would know instantly whether a match was, literally, in sight. Each person would wear a pair of magic glasses. When someone else with harmonizing program responses, also wearing the magic glasses, was in the area-- walking down the street, sitting on a bus, inspecting rutabagas in the produce aisle--both sets of glasses would "react." If the glasses looked too normal and there was any doubt about the quality of the spectacles, each person would look at the other and say, "are you 'reacting'?" or something equally as charismatic. Wa-boom. Game over.

Sounded simple, but during the test period, the three of them kept booming into each other and excusing themselves. Clearly, while Stan, Taylor, and Reata had similar interests, intelligence level, and receptivity, there was something missing. Time for a pro.

Dr. P. le Pro came up with an infallible set of questions that would direct respondents to their ideal mates. Immediately, questionnaires were sent and returned, and magic glasses were worn by interested individuals aged 18 to 80 and living within 100 kilometres of one another. Soon people were wa-booming all over the place, and in record time!

Reata met and married Seafood Sam, who hadn't a clue about computers, but who cooked a mean halibut, yuh, and wore a fascinating salmon-skin bracelet.

Taylor is currently dating a lovely woman named Gene who shapes, colors, and designs dentures. And Stan is back with his talented and adorable wife Aloha, who is scheduled to appear on Wheel of Fortune early in the new year.

Oh yuh, Reata's friend Wal is still looking for a happy ending, which should please Reata, but it doesn't. Go figure.

Author's note: If wa-booming is of interest to you, and you are able to achieve boomosity with or without the aid of magic specs, please contact the writer with true tales of your own for possible future weblication, waboom@loumilner.com.