Talk about information overload! Bob put down Dr. Optoglass’ notes. It was two in the morning.
Dr. Optoglass was right. Now Bob saw things he never noticed before – light, color, tonality, details, depth – it was like his eyes had suddenly developed superpowers.
What would Cathy Digital look like with his new eyes? Will she have the same charm? At two in the morning, after a brief toilet break, Bob decided he wanted to see Cathy – RIGHT NOW.
Except there was a problem – her town was a few miles away, and Bob didn’t have a car. He decided to use two other tools at his disposal – his legs.
Thus it came to pass that Analog Bob, son of Analog Paul the videographer, set out on foot on the main road lit by 10 lux, towards deadly Digitown. If all went according to plan, he’d profess his love, win a kiss from his duly beloved, and make the early morning bus back into bed before anyone from Wolfcrow woke up.
It took him three hours to reach Digitown, cold, hungry and scared. People were up and about. Or maybe they were just about – it didn’t seem like they had slept. Cars were zooming everywhere, faster than they would have during the day.
If Wolfcrow was laid back then Digitown was a modern city, with bunched up apartments, small cars and big neon billboards.
Bob followed the neatly placed signboards and worked his way to Cathy’s residence. His father had always told him: “Son, when in doubt, follow the analog workflow.” But your son’s into digital workflows now, thought Bob.
Thanks to Sampler this naive lover knew that a digital system was just an analog system in disguise. Battling strange looks and the occasional dog he found Cathy’s home and her terrifying bedroom window.
This is where the workflow stopped.
You see, there’s theory, and then there’s the third degree. All those who love to theorize do so to avoid the uncertainty of actually doing what they are thinking about.
“What the hell was I thinking?” Bob asked himself, knowing the question will just bounce around in his brain until it vanished – only to return again in the future when another blunder is born.
Bob’s immediate goal was to reach the first floor bedroom window. Like countless movies he’d seen, he imagined himself popping at her window and surprising her – either as a lover or as a serial killer – whichever her response would confirm.
He took the first step on a water pipe, and hauled himself up. With his second step he slipped and clanged his knee on the pipe, and fell. He let out a loud yelp.
The lights came on. What happened next is folklore – a story that people tell their grandchildren even today.