A Storyteller in Modern Times

Homer O’Hara loved to tell stories. He had a wealth of them, accumulated over a period of 80 years lived in interesting times.

He hoped to get the opportunity to tell a few to his 8-year-old great-grandson, Brandon. Kids are suckers for a good story...right?

Well, maybe, but so far, no success. Every time he had been asked to babysit Brandon (well, Brandon’s parents used the term “sit,” leaving the baby part out) Homer had failed to engage the boy. There was nothing he could do to pull Brandon away from his ubiquitous computer-based Multimedia Entertainment Center.

But then one night Homer had a stroke of luck. During a “sitting” session, a sudden power outage blackened the entire city. The apartment’s living room went dark. There they were, just he and the kid, alone in a quiet apartment 31 floors above the streets, with the only light coming from the half moon shining through the living room’s row of floor-to-ceiling windows. Homer had a captive audience who was just sitting there in the dimness getting more bored by the second.

"So, hows about I tell you a story?" Homer said, rubbing his hands together the way a hungry person does just before digging into the grub.

"A story! Great!" Brandon replied. “I can’t wait. But where’s your equipment?”

“No equipment needed, other than my tonsils,” said Homer. “And I’ve lubricated them with a little scotch I stole from your Dad’s stash.”

“Will your story have a quadraphonic soundtrack?"

"No…oo. Sorry," Homer answered.

"But how can do you have realistic sound effects without surround sound?"

"Ah...well, I usually don't do sound effects, but when I do, I just use my mouth."

Homer quickly tried to launch into his story: "Once upon..."

"You mean you rely solely on narration?"

"Ah, yeah, that's right. Now, as I was saying -- once upon a time..."

"Will this story use holographic projections?"

"No, 'fraid not."

"Three-D graphics then?"

"Ah, no."

"Animation?"

"Ah...none of that, Brandon. It's a story. It’s all oral. I talk and you listen. That’s how it works. And they always start like this: Once upon a time, there was..."

“Will it employ gaming? Simulation?"

"No, son, it's just a story."

"What kind of interaction will it have? What kind of user control?

“Son, all those things require electricity, and as you can see, we ain’t got none.”

"Sure we do, Gramps,” Brandon said, “I’ll just go get my Portable Handheld in my bedroom. And I’ve got lots of extra batteries for it.”

Brandon flicked on the LED penlight on his key chain and scampered off to his bedroom.

And so Homer’s story was over before it began.

Homer walked over to the windows and looked out on the blacked-out city. The half moon hung low in the sky and backlit the buildings, giving the whole scene an ethereal glow, as if freedom from electricity had magically transformed the ordinarily grim, grimey, crime-filled city.

Brandon re-entered the room, already absorbed in a multimedia “story” being played on his Portable Media Machine.

“Hey, kid, come here and look at how beautiful the city is in the moonlight,” said Homer.

The boy was absorbed and ignored him.

Homer looked out at the electricity-free cityscape and thought: There are a million stories in the naked city, but I’ll never get a chance to tell them.

Then he turned and looked at his great-grandson, whose face was illuminated by the light emitting from the portable screen he held in his hands, and Homer thought: Worse, yet, the poor kid will never be free enough to listen.