"You're travelling through another dimension, a dimension
not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous
land whose boundaries are that of imagination - Next stop, the
Twilight Zone..."
We're speeding down the highway at 80 mph, our sons asleep in the back seat, our goal to reach Austin before 7:30 a.m. It is now 2:00 a.m. Our yuppie lives have crossed only once before, when our sons played together on my husband's baseball team last year. Tonight we are thrown together as parents of two regional science fair winners on their way to the State competition. We talk softly in the dark about kids and schools and jobs. He is head of a software systems design department in a Fortune 500 company. I mention that I own a few speculative technical stocks.
"I know," he says, with a smile, which in retrospect I now see as tinged with a touch of anticipatory glee.
"You know?" I say, puzzled.
His smile broadens. "Yes-you're pretty active on Silicon Investor----Rambi."
There is a pause as I observe with fascination my two worlds collide in silent, deadly impact. It surprises me that there is no huge explosion, no flash of light, no mushroom cloud, despite the distinct impression that I am whirling in a vortex between reality and fantasy. A horrible thought emerges from the swirling chaos that has become my mind.
"You're not John Galt, are you?" I finally whisper, my voice shaking.
"No-just a lurker," I sense that he is enjoying my extreme and obvious discomfort. I glance down at my jeans and turtleneck--no Uzi, no long, flowing tresses, certainly no thong, not even a stray Gummi bear. I can feel the heat in my cheeks and am grateful for the dark. Is there something clever I can say? I've already missed my chance to indignantly protest that someone must be impersonating me online or to ask in wide-eyed innocence, "Why, whatever is a Silicon?"..I opt for an attempt at sounding blase and a little bored, managing a light laugh and a dismissive gesture. How much does he know?
"Oh, yes--Silicon Investor-it is fun once in a while to check out the threads, maybe post a message or two."
He is merciless. "1,180 posts?"
Another pause.
"This is really embarrassing," I finally mutter. I wonder if he's thinking that I'm a woman with a serious addiction problem, perhaps an unbalanced personality. I slump down in my seat.
"I've got a great stock for you," he says. I glance at him suspiciously. "It's a lot better than VVUS." This isn't happening. "It's Zonagen-it's gonna be big-probably the next Microsoft." Is this for real? "If I had my laptop, we could have a lot of fun tonight. I know some great sites."
I'm not sure whether to laugh or throw myself out of the car. I glance at him again. He's really smiling now, but it's a nice smile.
"You're not going to humiliate me with this?" I say, hope dawning that I won't be driven from my home in shame.
"No-your secret is safe with me," he says reassuringly.
"Oh, thank you, thank you! I am so grateful"
Another pause as I muse over my narrow escape. Perhaps I should quit, change my name, stop writing fluff. "You know," I muse. "This will make a great post..." |
