Paradoxically Yours...

Out of Line

'deadline' 4/3/17

"Smart 'phone?' Jeremy shook his cell phone vigorously. Doesn't matter how much I click and curse, he thought. "Dumb twerp of a thing has died... AGAIN!" He lifted it in front of his face, talking directly to nobody there on that black screen. "Can't you be smart enough to resuscitate yourself, or at least warn me you're planning to give up the ghost?"

"Simmer down now... there's a good chap. You're going to do yourself an injury, getting in a flap like that... " George reached across to pat the free hand of the frustrated younger man. A quick glance around the train carriage showed George no-one was taking notice - so involved they were in their own pieces of technology.

"Don't stress. Be brave, put it away in your pocket—" He interrupted himself to hold his hand up, traffic-cop-stop fashion, "... Trust me. When you get home, put the little blighter on to charge. And THEN... you read the manual." And George chortled. "You know the one - when in doubt... read the manual! Because it tells you all about settings and such. Then you Google something like 'Top 11 tips to save cell phone batteries' or similar. With your manual in hand, you'll work out what's chewing them batteries up so fast."

Before Jeremy could protest any further, George said, "Let me tell you a story from last century about how bad it was BEFORE cell-phones were even a glint in an inventor's eye." Ignoring the raised eyebrows and dropped jaw, George continued. "Old mate of mine, Kanute the dairyman, was setting up his dairy AND the electric milking machine. In the distance, a storm with great black, rolling clouds was developing... fast. Luckily, the cows were in the holding yard already. Kanute and his missus knew from past experience how easily their herd could stampede to the bottom of the farthest paddock at those first warning rumbles. Now they were secure in their concrete dairy yard with its heavy steel posts and rails. Just as well, considering what happened next..." and George paused dramatically.

"Kanute reached for the ON switch and... nothing happened. He clicked it 'on' and 'off' several times. Storms had taken power out before, but this one was still so distant. He swore and tried again; stomped around, filled some feeders and tried again, hoping against hope for the deep persistent throbbing of the motor that told him all was ready to go. Not this time either... nothing but that dull click. Kanute knew he had a LAST resort -the really old petrol motor. The monster that deafened the milker, terrified the cows into cowering in an impossibly tight bunch. And the choking fumes... and the thick cloud of smoke that hung in the dairy rafters." George paused to take a breath himself.

"Kanute chose to hurry home to phone the emergency number of his local power supplier on the only phone he had. You can only see it in museums now! A big old black one - the plastic before plastic - called bakelite. Great big receiver, kind of banana-shaped, connected by a curly cord to the phone. One end pressed against your ear and the other hung in front of your mouth. Big dial on the front of the phone, to choose your numbers. Trust me... that's how it was."

"Kanute picked up the receiver, began to dial the number, hesitated and luckily looked away to check it. That phone receiver exploded out of his hand with a deafening crack, a shooting flame, small cloud of smoke and the ugly smell of burnt bakelite. Seems a stray bolt of lightning, far ahead of the rest of the storm, had hit the telephone wire where it came into his house, snaking its way to the nearest outlet - Kanute's phone. Just moments before... or after, that receiver would've been against his ear. Would he have been deafened? Brain-damaged? Even survived at all? We'll never know." George couldn't resist a parting comment, as they stood up to disembark at their train stop.

"Now THAT, my young friend, is what you truly call a DEAD LINE!"