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How I became a serial killer in later life

 

Harriet Ewe recalls a sad tale of life with a cyberpet

 

I know I am a little late with the trend. But I’ve always wanted a dog, and now I’ve got one. Well, virtually…

 

 

 

Computer pets come in all shapes and sizes, and like all other pets, they are an onerous responsibility and not just for Christmas. To be kept alive, they have to be fed, washed, exercised and medicated. Above all, they have to be loved. I had not realised the amount of time and attention Spot-the-dog (his generic name) would require until I installed him on my PC.  

 

According to their manufacturers, 3D pets have their own unique characters and personal destinies, though as far as I can tell, all computer pets are the same and have about as much identity as a frozen pea.

 

I have to confess, the consolations of a virtual dog are few. He might not have doggy breath, leave hairs on your furnishings and emasculate the postman, but he still barks, whines and scratches with all the vigour of a psoriasis ward. And like all of us, he has bodily functions which, while odourless, are far from silent. As he swivels round in the throes of agony and ecstasy, Spot-the-dog produces a fanfare of sounds worthy of an over-enthusiastic brass band.  

 

Accidents frequently happen. These are, however, quickly remedied. With the click of a button, a mop appears on the screen and deletes the offence. I have never tried clearing up a dog’s mess with a mop, but it can’t be a simple operation.

 

On other occasions, a more pressing situation develops. Ominous spots appear on my pet’s tongue. He is ill and in need of immediate medical attention. Clucking and clicking, I manage to access the bathroom and to produce a bottle of unappetising green medicine from the cabinet. I try to force it down Spot’s throat, but he refuses to stay still. Consumed with maternal angst, I click and click. Spot’s image is starting to disintegrate and decrease in size. Before my horrified eyes, he disappears altogether.

 

This is my first murder. I have blood on my hands. ‘Out, damned spot. Out, I say…No, no, I didn’t mean it.’  Two days later, I have turned into a serial killer as one cyberpet gives way to another.

 

Not even in the world of the simulacrum can we rise above death and disease. I decide to end my interactions with Spot and his progeny before I am accused of genocide. And besides, I have come to the conclusion that virtual reality is just as elusive, random and frustrating as the real thing. It might promise us control and the lack of existential doubt, but in no way does it deliver them.  Plus ca change, plus c’est la meme chose.

 

 

You can also take a look at previous personal views by Harriet Ewe:

 

Personal view 1 - Hobbies                 
Personal view 2 - Shopping
Personal view 3 - Moths
Personal view 4 - cholesterol
Personal view 5 - Haemorrhoids 

Personal view 6 - The big lie

 

    


 

laterlife interest

The above article is part of the features section of laterlife.com called laterlife interest. laterlife interest contains a variety of articles of interest for visitors to laterlife.com written by a number of experienced and new journalists.

It includes both one off articles and also regular columns of a more specialist nature such as healthwise, reports from the REACH files, and a beauty section called looking good in later life.

Also don't forget to take a look at our regular IT question and answer section called YoucandoIT by IT trainer and author Jackie Sherman.

To view the latest articles and indexes to previous articles click on laterlife interest here or above.  To search for articles about a certain topic, use the site search feature below.

 

 


 

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