After The Blood Has Stilled

It used to be easy, keeping track of the things that mattered. For many years Jason Mnemosyne boasted good-naturedly to his family and friends about never forgetting an appointment or a birthday. He remembers snorting mockingly when others admitted to needing a pesky calendar or, heavens forbid, a cell phone to help them remember. Oh how he laughed in the privacy of his own mind, never thinking that such a day would come his way. And yet it had.

           He first started to notice it a year after he retired, having led an adventurous and, some would say unorthodox, life of ruthless trickery, illegal dealings and violent avenues of business. The problem surfaced slowly, almost lazily, with the smallest of things, like him recalling the wrong interest rate he demanded for a very lenient and perfectly safe loan and struggling to form his cousin’s home phone number from memory. Jason put it down to his new-found inactivity stealing the sharpness of his wit, and resolved to take up solving crossword puzzles in the weekly newspaper as a way to stimulate his mind. He was certain that once he fully adapted to not being in the middle of the action, all would return to normal with little effort on his part. The former not-so-family friendly entrepreneur thus proceeded, for the next three and a half years, to stubbornly deny having a problem. So what if he bought teddy bears in a variety of colours because his granddaughter’s favourite seemed hell-bent to evade him? Or if his henchmen, apologies, associates had to hurry over to his house with a hastily acquired bouquet of roses after he happened upon his wife casually polishing her gun on a sunny and significant afternoon in may? This sort of absent-mindedness befalls everyone sometimes, it proves nothing.          

           Things finally came to a head when Jason had, for the third time in nine months, send his debt collectors to have a knee-straightening chat with some late payers about punctuality, to the wrong address. How was he to know that people who are desperate enough to risk their health for some cash would move around a lot? Nevertheless, his son decided that it is high time he received an aid to limit such events and brought him The Abomination.  Jason, very reasonably he might add, responded by chucking the plastic device across the room. Alas, the clever little fiend had clearly expected this outcome because he simply pulled out another identical phone from the front pocket of his trousers. A deep, searing rage filled his every thought upon witnessing the ungratefulness of his family. After toiling relentlessly for decades to provide them with the best the world had to offer his reward was this crass indignity, a careless mockery to remind him that he was, no longer, good enough. Jason had always suspected loyalty was a rare breed in this wretched era, but he had no idea it was, in truth, a long buried carcass. He briefly considered screaming his displeasure with all his might towards those unfortunate enough to be close, but refrained due to a single, depressing reason: there was no point. His worth had already been weighted and decided upon and he was found lacking, thus he bowed his head in grief and ordered his offspring out of the office. After his departure, The Abomination remained seated before him on the desk, calmly reflecting the room around it in its dark, demonic screen. It was mocking the impotence brought about by old age, he just knew it. What should he do with it? Attempting to dispose of it again would just make his son waste even more money on further foolish endeavors, so it was out of the question. Perhaps he should just ignore it, render it useless through indifference. With this final thought in mind, Jason exited the office and went straight home to recount his tale of woe to his wife and subsequently, complain about today’s youth. To his disappointment, but not surprise, he did not find a sympathetic ear awaiting him. The Abomination’s corruption seemed to spread even quicker than he anticipated.

              For a little over a week he managed to disregard the object’s repugnant existence and avoid, out of sheer hatred, to be left alone with it. Then, because his faithless son clearly loathes the possibility of his father being at peace with the world, he forced Jason to face his arch nemesis head on, with no chance of escape, by locking him in the office with The Abomination and refusing to release him until he at least gave it a go. He has never regretted bringing that boy home from the hospital more. Alas, bereft of all allies and with the grace of ignorance being firmly out of reach, the man approached the desk with small and hesitant steps, hoping against all hope that his child would see reason. Resigned to his grim fate, he grasped the phone and touched the screen with a trembling finger; it lit up instantly and displayed dozens of colorful little images that had no discernible pattern or logic that Jason could see. After roughly two hours of confused fumbling through the various applications and somewhat figuring out the right amount of pressure he should apply with his hand, the gentleman judged that he had earned his freedom and was just about to claim his prize when his eyes fell upon it: The Calendar. He was by no means the type of person who would trample on his own principles, but he could not find it in himself to resist the temptation of investigating this. What if it could help him with the problem that he absolutely did not have? He cautiously opened the app and was fully prepared to be proved right about the worthlessness of the modern technologies, even as a tiny, well-hidden and thoroughly repressed part of him was feeling hopeful at the potential solution. What he found served only to depress him even more, it was indeed useful. With this he could set a scheduled alarm for every important day, at any hour he wished, and even title it appropriately so that he would never mistake the occasion. He could spare himself the humiliation of barely having enough time to make a call or a visit on special events after hearing someone else mentioning it first. Never again would he accidentally disable the wrong person for life. The possibilities were endless. Jason paused on this last revelation and promptly realized that he had almost been seduced by the unholy charms of The Abomination. He was dangerously close to sacrificing his pride and long-defended stance on the issue for the promise of an easier, less stressful existence. That could not be allowed to stand, he was no weakling. Jason lived his entire life without needing a phone and he would be damned if he started to rely on one now. Let the young fools who didn’t manage to rub together two brain cells in order to think for themselves consort with this nonsense, he would not. Decision made, the less than legal magnate demanded to be released and proudly proclaimed retaining his initial opinion despite being exposed to temptation.

           Unfortunately, the complicated matter of The Abomination would not allow itself to be settled so easily. Not even a month after Jason rejected all attempts at introducing him to technology, a heavy blow was set to wreck his peaceful state of mind: he had forgotten the vow he made his granddaughter of attending her tea party along with the beloved stuffed animals. She was understandably devastated and called him in tears to ask why he didn’t come. He had no good answer for her merely that no one had reminded him, but he could not tell her that. The retired Mafioso panicked and almost slipped up and confessed about having gone golfing with his best friend, Jeff, when he was saved in the nick of time by a burst of divine inspiration. Jason reassured her that he had not missed their play date on purpose and that he had just been caught up in a short street-war with a rival gang. He then offered to make it up to her by allowing his granddaughter to chase around the local snitches with his hunting knife at the next family gathering, which seems to adequately pacify her. Afterwards he decided that things could not go on like this and that perhaps, using The Abomination just a tiny little bit was not such a bad thing. It was not a concession to the unrelenting passage of time, rather proof of his legendary adapting abilities. Yes, he was absolutely resorting to this by choice and desire instead of necessity.

           Jason would slowly but surely start to delve ever deeper into the fascinating world of smart phones and the internet one cat video and boomer meme at a time. He would then, ironically, claim that the elderly who refused to engage with the new devices were “stuck in the past” and “needed to get on with the times”. It is safe to say that Jason Mnemosyne was soon irrevocably, but never openly acknowledged, addicted to The Abomination.