The Computer Call

So last night as we're sitting down to a healthy dinner of chili dogs and Star Trek, we get a call from some guy with a Farsi accent telling me that he is calling about my computer. Now, these people have called before, but in my initial interrogation, they eventually hung up because the answers they gave made absolutely no sense. This time, I kept the guy on the line longer to try and figure out the purpose of his call.

Spoiler: I never did.

Anyway, he said he was calling about my computer, and I asked the most natural question that any geek should have in such a situation: which one? Well, without missing a beat, he said that they had detected that my Windows or Apple Mac computer had unsolicited programs accessing the internet and these programs were not viruses and could not be detected by regular virus software. I asked how, he said he had already told me that. I told him he hadn't, and he insisted that he could show me if I accessed my computer. I told him I would not give him access to my computer, and he said he would walk me through it to show me one of these programs.

Still curious as to what he is selling (I suspect some kind of registry cleaner or spyware/malware cleaner deal), I go ahead and proceed to my nearest computer and ask him to proceed. He asks if I'm the primary user of my computer. I tell him some of them. He paused at this answer, apparently, uncertain as to how to move on, but finally, he went ahead with his spiel. He then asks if I know where the keyboard is. I have to admit that I was completely thrown by the question. I was like, "What about the keyboard?" He asks again if I can find it. I just say yes, thinking he could not have possibly just asked me that.

Then, he asks me to find the C-T-R-L button in the lower left hand corner of the keyboard. I had to take a moment to inform him that he could speed up a bit here since I'm not a first grader, and am, in fact, a rather savvy user/programmer/sometimes hacker. I can keep up. He acknowledges and then asks me if I can find the little banner key that looks like the Windows symbol. I inform him that I'm well aware of what the Windows key is.

He asks me to hold that key down. I wait patiently for the next step, since there is no reason to just hold that key down without pressing some other key. He is guiding me to a Windows speed key combo, and I was not going to just plug that in without knowing what it is. He asks if I'm holding the key down. I ask him what the next keypress is. He asks if I can find the R button. I confirm that he is asking me to pull up the Run dialog box. I use the darn thing all the time.

Thrown by my phraseology, I guess, he mumbled out something I didn't fully understand. Still playing along, I opened the Run box and wait. He asks me if I see the box that says Run on it. I tell him that I can. He asks if I can see the white space in that box. I confirm that I can, and assure him one more time that I can keep up if he would cut to the chase.

Undaunted by my insistence to speed up, he asks if there is anything in that white box. I tell him that yes, there is the last thing that I typed in that box. It was, in fact, the IP address of a network drive in my house that I used to copy some stuff around, though I didn't go into that with him. He told me to press the backspace button to clear that box out. Little did he know that since the info in there is actually highlights when you open the run box, you can usually just start typing, but you know, whatever.

He had, so far, spent five minutes telling me how to pull up the Run dialog box using what was, no doubt, a page of step-by-step instructions in front of him. He finally got to the meat of his instructions. What to type in that precious box. He said to press E as in echo. I press nothing and wait for whatever he wants me to spell out. He asks if I have an E in that box. I ask him what he wants me to type in the box. He says E as in echo. I say ok.

He moves on to V as in Victor. I assure him, once again, that I can keep up and note, and I actually said "for QA purposes," that he was going irritatingly slow when I've repeatedly told him to move it along. He was unmoved and said to put in E as in echo again. He confirmed "E as in echo, V as in Victor, E as in echo." I confirmed, "Are you asking me to pull up the Event Viewer?" and I quickly typed in eventvwr.

About this time, the Queen was telling me not to do anything they told me to, and I assured her I had it under control, and was still just playing along. However, I glanced at the time, and noted that a) my chili dogs are getting cold and b) I was running out of time for Star Trek since they wanted to watch that Toy Story Halloween special at 7.

I told him I had the event viewer open, and asked very directly what I'm looking for. He asked what I see on my screen. I told him there are lots of things on my screen. What does he want me to look for? He asked if I saw event viewer local. I told him yes, and he asked me to list the items below that. I told him no, and asked what the point of this was. He said he was showing me the programs running. I told him that at this point I was kind of annoyed by how slow he was going and that I really didn't have time for this right now.

And I hung up.

I am still curious as to what he was going for, who he was calling from, and what he was selling since he was basically posing as a technical person calling in response to a message sent from one of my computers. This concerned me, and I really wanted to find out who they were to confirm whether they actually did get something from one of my computers or not. Perhaps they'll call again, and I'll torture them then.

A Social Experiment

The best part about having an anonymous blog is the ability to write about things around me, and no one knows I'm the perpetrator of such things. In this instance, the Queen decided to make me do something in my office that I would, under every other circumstance, never do or participate in. At her workplace, she got this "Boo" thing for Halloween, and was instructed to pass it on, as it were. She decided that I should place one in my workplace too to see what happens. I initially balked at the idea since I just work at work, and don't care about "spirit" nonsense. My motivation is the 2 week paycheck and that's all I need.

However, after some thought, being the progenitor of the action, I figured it would be amusing to see how it plays out, so I gave considerable thought to who I should give this little seed to in order to have the best chance of it taking off. Since I get there very early in the morning, I can pretty much choose who I want. I made my selection of someone I think will actually do it, and has the added bonus of being within earshot (but not eyeshot) of my cubical. I don't normally associate with this person at all - not in the same department or running circles or anything. Hence, the chances that I will be a suspect (besides the fact that I never participate in anything) is so ridiculously low, it's almost amusing.

I made the delivery, and the person arrived about 45 minutes later. They talked to the person in the cube next to them (which I knew they would, since they converse often) who, of course, took no credit for the placement of the item. They pondered who might, but weren't certain since they had no idea when it arrived.

They returned to the topic maybe an hour later, again, kind of wondering where it came from and what the purpose was. Now, the item is little more than a cup of candy, but it has a note that says to do the same for someone else and place it without getting caught. Not only is the conversation amusing, but the overall experiment will be fascinating to track.

We seeded this with one item and instructions to keep it going. How far will it go? Will it take off at all? Will I actually get one myself at some point? What will be the overall results of breaking up the monotony with one random element from what amounts to a random source? They suggested it might be a "spirit thing," and that's not a bad idea, after all, but we all know that I would never be on a spirit committee (insert shudder here).

As the day went on, I gathered from the tone of voice I heard and such that this person was actually a little freaked out by the existence of this random element, and declared they had no idea what to do with it (despite the fact that it contained instructions to "Boo" someone else). They asked people on the spirit committee continuing to declare she didn't know what to do, and of course, they weren't aware of it.

What this means is that my clever choice was probably the worst one I could have made. Rather than the leader I took this person for, they appear to be a total follower unable to make an independent decision. It may not go anywhere. Oh well. I will simply sit back and watch to see how and if it unfolds at all.

Flint Ridge

So in the spirit of recalling memories, I have one from the distant past. Well, really, this is more of an overview because this place was a sort of family tradition for years that just stopped at some point. I'm talking about a place on Highway 412 in Oklahoma called Flint Ridge.

It is my understanding that my parents managed to get in on the ground level in this place when it first came into being, and as property owners, we went up there over the summer and camped out, hiked on trails, and cooked over an open fire. They had pools, mini-golf, canoeing (which I did not like at the time), paddleboats, horseback riding, and I'm sure some other stuff that I don't recall. I recall it being fun to go. We looked forward to it.

Thinking about it now, I don't really know any of the details because it is a parents' job to keep the world fun for the child and disguise whatever else goes into life for a time. As such, I do not know if there were any costs or anything else associated with doing anything, but I don't think there was since I figure I would have heard of something over the several years when we went.

I also don't know why we stopped going. My knee jerk reaction is to say it was the birth of my sister, but I can quickly disprove that since I have a photo of us there in my Facebook albums when she was two and I was fourteen. Hence, the only logical explanation is that something within the family situation changed to disallow our going there. I ponder the time period following the last time I can confirm we went, and I don't have any idea.

As I picture the mini-golf course in my head and smile at the memory, I recall some conversation my parents had over Flint Ridge and something changing there. Perhaps they raised the rates or started charging for the services that were included for all those years. It happens, especially when a place gets big enough. Whatever it was, it was significant.

But many summers of my youth were spent there doing outdoorsy things.

What do I recall the most at this time? Something stupid, naturally. That would be canoeing down the Illinois River, but not the calm, easy ride that one might think of when one might ponder a canoe trip. Oh, heck no.

I recall being very young and screaming every time the canoe hit the rock bed of the river. I recall being scared out of my wits during the entire ride as my parents deftly navigated every obstacle the river offered from that low level where the canoe had to be dragged over those rocks to ensuring they got around tree branches in the water to making sure the canoe did not capsize at underwater obstacles we bumped into. At every turn, my poor parents had to deal with two frantic, screaming children who thought for sure they were going to die at any moment - life jackets or not. Unlike the time where Sassy Pants screaming bloody murder at the carnival rides but loved every moment, we were very happy when the multi-hour canoe ride was over and we were not interested in doing it again.

Of course they made us do it again the next year, but we still hated it.

In retrospect, it was probably fun, and I wish I had tried to enjoy it more, but little kids don't understand those sorts of things. The canoe was made of a heavy metal, was very buoyant and stable, and there was no chance of it being punctured or tipping over, so every fear was completely unfounded. That doesn't even include two loving people who would sacrifice themselves for the pair of screaming brats.

I occasionally think of Flint Ridge, and even asked about it once. I don't recall what my mother said about it though. I get so distracted sometimes. But it was a memory and experience that made me who I am.

Lost to Time

I was talking to the Queen last night, and we delved into some philosophical territory. If you ever give a thought to life and what it means to you and creation, you may eventually come to the sobering revelation that much of what you do on this planet will be completely forgotten, not only by everyone you know, but by you as well. Every day, we seem to trudge forward hoping to make a difference, but when you take two steps back, what sort of difference are we hoping to make? What sort of impact are we hoping for by taking the left road instead of the right one?

I remember seeing a graphic once showing an eventual timeline of the universe from the theoretical big bang to the theoretical burning out and death of everything. It's the sort of thing that brings up the existential question of "If nothing existed, what would there be?" This timeline started with the average person's lifespan and "zoomed out" little by little through periods of earth history to the history of the solar system to the lifespan of the sun and on out, all the while focusing on the period we just came from. It made our lifespan a speck on a universal scale.

Where does that leave us? Even if you ponder known history, our lives are very tiny. How many people have walked the earth? How many lives were lived from birth to death in obscurity? Most of them, actually. The number of truly "famous" people is extremely small. And of the really famous people, how much of their lives are lost? How many are reduced to a series of dates? We can find out dates for Abraham Lincoln on when he was born, died, got married, had children, some of his work, etc., but we do not know much about his childhood beyond what might be anecdotal. We don't know much about his day to day life, even as a president. Sure, major engagements might be recorded, but not the little things. What did he and his wife like to talk about? What was their fondest memory, I wonder? Is there any truth to Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter? You see, that movie plays into the fundamental truth that there are gaps in history. It's the same sort of thing that Assassin's Creed III does with the revolutionary war. We know when the major stuff happened, but we can't know the conversations and who went in and out. Maybe there was a freelance assassin named Connor who helped out. Who knows?

While that comes off as ridiculous, that's just famous people. How about the next person that walks past you? How about the person who sits next to you at work? How about the person you might consider your best friend? How much do you know about them? How much do they know about you? Next to nothing is probably fairly close to the truth. You might say, "Well they know this and that," but they also only know what you tell them. Did you cover your childhood in detail? Did you tell them all about your weekend in every detail (ok, so probably)?

Even people who are open tend not to tell of everything. Even if you know it all, that's just you. What happens to their story when they're gone? How much do you know about your parents? Grandparents? Great-grandparents? I imagine the list kept getting shorter. Personally, the extent of what I know about my great-grandparents are their names, birth and death dates, and the dates they got married (for some of them). That's it.

It's as sad as a tombstone. I read once that the most important part of a tombstone isn't the dates that tell birth and death, but the dash that connects them. That dash contains so many experiences and no matter who it is, so much life, that it isn't fair that someone's entire existence is reduced to a dash.

Sometimes, I think when I walk in a crowd of people that attached to every face I see is a story. An entire life story from beginning to the present day just as full and complete as my own. I know that every person who walks past me is walking there for a purpose that they know. They left some place to show up where I saw them for a reason known to them, and once they are done, they will leave and go somewhere else. I may or may not ever see them again.

Billions of stories. Billions of them are lost every day, and we don't even realize it. But really, what could anyone do with all of that? We try to tell our stories to our children, and I dare say, if our children react the way we did upon hearing those stories, they will remember them just as well as we remembered our parents' stories. Those who fail to learn the lessons of the past are doomed to repeat them, and I can't help but wonder how many times we've repeated the same mistakes.

Maybe you are one of the few who, like me, have not only created a blog, but have kept up with it by writing down the various things that happen while supplying the occasional story of the past. Swell, but you know that blogger.com isn't forever. Someday, the site will die, and the data will be forever lost, and the stories forever gone.

Then there's the more sobering reality: who reads it anyway? If you're like me, then you probably find that the stats on your site consist of maybe two or three hits a day. It's probably one or two consistent readers, if you're lucky, and some accidental hits.

What does this add up to? It means that all the things that you weigh in your life as so significant are just little things that make up a big picture. They are things that pass and something else will take its place eventually. We are on this rock for a limited time in the larger scale of things, and eventually, we will pass on leaving the rock to someone else. They will eventually forget us. Some may last longer than others, but even those who last will only be a name. People know of Edgar Allen Poe, who never thought he'd be remembered, but he is little more than a name.

As for what comes next, none of us can confirm it. I believe in the Christian ideals where faith in God and Jesus promises an eternal life, but my human brain cannot comprehend something like "eternity." Remember that scale I mentioned. Eternity would be that whole thing and then some. I can't comprehend a hundred years. I have no hope of understanding eternity until I get there.

Point is that while we're here, we have to make the most of what we have to work with. We have our own company to keep, and our families to tend. Life is a miracle, and should always be treated as such.