The photographic film companies must be ruing the day some enlightened spark figured out how to store camera images on hard disks. I mean floppy disks. Removable disks. Thumb drives? Whatever.
A truly stunning number of people with an even more astonishing array of cameras are constantly capturing digital images to memorable sticks every minute on The Island.
Why you would want to preserve a picture of Kitty eating a hoagie at the Subway, or capture (in eight megapixel clarity) a shot of Shuva sitting on the bench next to a bin at a bus stop is all a bit beyond me.
And while the locals are snapping shots from their digital cameras, phone cameras, and Dick Tracey watches, there are thousands of CCTs quietly humming, tracking and generally recording all the movements of the inhabitants and tourists milling about. Which Orwellian person is viewing the footage beamed from all the security cameras is a mystery. But if he’s a native of The Island, then I will wager that he is not a Big brother.
However it is not the electric eyes that keep the natives, tourists and one Hillbilly in check. You see, this is a cloudy but fine locale. (A bit like a Coopers, but a lot warmer.) Well, not that type of fine. Not fine like a "fine Coopers", or fine like "Demi Moore is fine".
No, these are the big fines. Fines like $500 for eating (or drinking) at a train station. Or $1,000 for smoking in an air-conditioned venue. Or $5,000 for pressing the dirty great big red call button on the train when it is not an emergency.
So knowing the amount of mischievous imp that’s packed into The Boy, I’m fairly certain that I will be parting with at least 20 Large across the next 2 years. Ah yes, the great love versus money debate. I think it was Lord Tennyson that said: “Tis better to have loved and lost, than paid for it and not liked it”. And a big Cheerio to my 10th grade English Lit teacher in West Virginia.
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