In Which We Learn That Mrs. Claus Is Our Eventual
Overlord
“Jasper!”
“Ma’am?”
“This
year’s Toy Guide, bring it to me.”
“Here you
go, ma’am. We think you’ll be pleased.”
“Don’t tell
me what to think.”
“No,
ma’am.”
“Jasper!”
“Ma’am?”
“What is
this? This, right here, at the bottom of the third page. Did I approve this?
Show me where, exactly, I approved Baby Bluetooth, Jasper.”
“Well, you
see, ma’am, your husband thought—“
“Did I pluck
that man out of a church in Turkey and immortalize him so he could think for
me? “
“No,
ma’am.”
“Does he
think that seventeen centuries at my side guarantees him immunity to my wrath?”
“I
shouldn’t think so, ma’am.”
“What
happened the first time I let him have his way?”
(Indecipherable)
“What
happened, Jasper, when I let Mr. Claus have his way?”
“Automatons,
ma’am.”
“Exactly!
Automatons! A whole slew of ingenious little clockwork and steamwork creatures,
clicking and turning their way uselessly down the centuries. They made the
Earthlings laugh in delight. Laugh! I told him the Earthlings weren’t ready for
advanced mechanicals; did he listen, or did he sneak them into the production
line? Their human brains weren’t there yet. Now people consider them quaint,
instead of a chilling prophetic vision. Quaint!”
“Yes,
ma’am.”
“Get rid of
the Baby Bluetooth.”
“Right
away, ma’am.”
“Ten years
from now, maybe. Seven, if we push it. Not now.”
“Of course,
ma’am.”
“I was very
clear about this. We started with Lincoln logs, tinker toys. Blocks. It took
them decades to adapt to modern block technology. It’s only been a hundred
years since we introduced the Erector Set; can we expect them to be turning
themselves into our willing robot slaves already?”
“No,
ma’am.”
“Did he
learn nothing from the robot dog situation? For a decade now the toyshops have
been shelving little robot pets, and what do we find in every street in every
town? Do we find any actual robot pets?”
“No,
ma’am.”
“Speak
clearly, Jasper! That’s right we don’t. We find actual flesh and blood pets.
Pets by the ton. And what are children lining up to ask mall Santas for? Their
very own iFido? No. Puppies. The
children want puppies, Jasper.”
“It’s
disgusting, ma’am.”
“Damn right
it’s disgusting. I told Jolly Old Saint Idiot it was too early for pet robot
toys, and I let him override me – it was a moment of weakness which won’t
happen again – and now we’ve had to introduce plastic pet pounds and amp up the
toy horse game just to recalibrate.”
(Mumble.)
“What’s
that?”
“Nothing,
ma’am. I was just saying that the tablet computer initiative is on track.”
“Only
because I have to keep reigning Nick in like he’s Blitzen. Tablets for
toddlers, sure, and pretend spy watches with big wrist screens, that’s all
going great. You rarely see a Kindergartener choose a pencil over a stylus
anymore, and even the Waldorf kids can use voice recognition technology. But
here it is, not even 2015, and what did Nick suggest?”
“Um, was it
an arm to attach an iPad to a crib and a free mobile app with an integrated
camera that networks to the parent’s smart phone so she can set whatever sounds
and visual stimulation most engage or soothe her infant and she can, from the
comfort of her sofa, both watch her baby sleep and also run the EyeTracker to
determine if her child’s engagement with a series of increasingly sophisticated
learning tools shows that he or she is developing on an above average level and
compares his or her results with those of other babies in the neighborhood? And
can generate graphs that are automatically uploaded to the top preschool
programs in a fifteen mile radius?”
“Jasper…”
“Page
twenty-three, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am. Consider it gone, ma’am.”
“It’s not
that I don’t want the Earthlings to
filter their every experience through technology, Jasper. Of course I do; you
know as well as I do what my end game is here. I want to know each and every
one’s innate abilities and how those abilities most benefit me. Give me another generation and they’ll be
microchipped at birth, and from there it’s a few short decades ‘till they’re dedicating
their lives in service to me.”
“Yes,
ma’am.”
“But it’s a
matter of subtlety.”
“Of course,
ma’am.”
“Without
subtlety, they won’t become my willing slaves, Jasper. They’ll think robot pets
are toys instead of the first wave of the invasion. They’ll think of technology
as optional. An occasional benefit, instead of essential to every move they
make. And we don’t want that, do we, Jasper?”
“No,
ma’am.”
“Because
why, Jasper?”
“Automatons,
ma’am.”
“That’s right, Jasper. Automatons.”
“That’s right, Jasper. Automatons.”
