The Age of Amy: Behind the Fun Zone

by BRUCE EDWARDS

  The source was a live, hilltop camera that overlooked Shankstonville. My eyes widened, astonished by its clarity. The vivid colors were spectacular: the green of the hills, the golden valley, the pink, blossoming trees—all of it in 3D.

  Experiencing Jimmie Vision for the first time was a little frightening, but the more I got used to it, the more I liked it.

  “What did I tell you?” said Jimmie. “A perfect start to a perfect day.”

  “Okay. You’ve impressed me. What do we do next?”

  “First things first. Please read the Terms of Service, then say ‘I Agree’ if you accept them.”

  The legal agreement scrolled up so fast that I couldn’t read it, not that I was going to, anyway. Who ever does?

  “I agree,” I said.

  After a quick musical fanfare, Jimmie announced:

  “Congratulations, Amy. Your Jimmie was successfully activated. For your convenience, I have installed the default settings.”

  A list of options with check boxes came into view:

  Who can contact me:

  (X) Friends.

  (X) Followers.

  (X) Friends of followers.

  Notify me when:

  (X) Somebody likes me.

  (X) Somebody leaves a comment.

  (X) Somebody has a birthday.

  Your friends may:

  (X) Tag your photos.

  (X) Share your posts.

  (X) Link to your Jimmie.

  Then there were the ones that made no sense at all:

  Your profanity filter is set to:

  (X) Schoolyard.

  “Is there anything you would like to change?” asked Jimmie.

  “For starters,” I said, “how about turning off that blasted alarm clock?”

  “Done! To re-enable it, just say ‘wake me up,’ with the date and time you wish. Anything else?”

  The choices I was asked to make were so numerous that it would take hours to go through them all.

  “Let’s leave the settings as they are for now,” I said, “and see how it goes.”

  “Very sensible.”

  Then I smiled and said, “Thank you, Jimmie,” as if I was speaking to a real person.

  A Jimmie can have that effect on you. You feel a sort of kinship towards it, as if it was a member of your family. The tone of its voice is tender and trusting. Comforting, in a way. Always there for you. Even though I knew the sound was synthesized and the language pre-programmed, it touched my emotions in a way I didn’t expect.

  I reached for the ceiling to stretch out the rest of my sleepiness. It was time to meet the morning, and begin my first day as a Jimmiehead.

  So far, I had no complaints, but the true cost of the free device was about to show itself. While brushing my teeth in the bathroom mirror, something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. A tiny ad crawled across the bottom of my vision. It read:

  Bright Light Toothpaste: Makes teeth so bright you can read by them!

  The intrusion was so subtle that I hardly noticed it, but I saw it just the same—and wasn’t that the whole point?

  For every activity you engage in, Jimmie generates an equally relevant commercial. Tying your shoelaces calls up ads for sports footwear. Opening your refrigerator produces ads for breakfast cereal. Starting your car generates ads for auto insurance.

  The skies glowed bright orange, as the sun set over Shankstonville. I had arranged to meet Zac at my high school, where the Fun Zone busses collected its passengers.

  I survived my first full day as a Jimmiehead, but hadn’t yet seen the Fun Zone commercial that was brainwashing the youth of Shankstonville. Maybe I hadn’t thought about it hard enough. I closed my eyes and recalled my day on the lake with Fred, and how I imagined the grandeur that place once had.

  That did it!

  An orchestral introduction filled my ears. Then a happy chorus of background voices sang:

  “Imagine!

  Believe!

  Dream!”

  A faint object appeared in the distance. It then zoomed toward me like a speeding train, finally revealing itself as a little winged fairy. She smiled at me while floating and bobbing in her little turquoise tights. A jeweled tiara rested on top of her flowing, aqua hair.

  It giggled, and in a dainty voice said, “Are you ready, Amy?”

  Then the Bluish Fairy reached under her tutu and produced a magic wand. A tap on my forehead, and I was standing under the entryway arch to the Fun Zone. It was a beautiful, starry night. The vintage park was ablaze in lights—stately and magnificent, in all its bygone glory.

  The little blue sprite then faced me and winked. “There it is, Amy. The Fun Zone: where dreams come true!”

  A tingling sensation drummed the bottom of my feet, then I sprang upward. The pavement below me fell away, as if I was ascending in an invisible elevator. Floating high above the arch, a carpet of lights invited me to come and play.

  I stretched out my arms and caught the wind. An instant later I was flying, like a night bird soaring on a warm summer breeze.

  I glided smoothly over the colorful midway tents, then raced alongside the roller coaster cars on their speedy, downhill descent. That blissful smell of saw dust and buttered popcorn followed me everywhere I went.

  The people below smiled up at me. A train engineer saluted me with a blast of his steam whistle. The calliope player nodded as I waltzed to the tunes puffing out of his organ pipes. Smiling children waved from atop the Ferris wheel:

  “Hi, Amy!”

  Just for fun, I folded back my arms and dove toward the lake, like a test pilot. Then I leveled off at the last second and skimmed over the surface, dipping my fingertips in the cool water.

  After jetting up to a dizzying height, I flipped over onto my back and gazed up at the moon. I tucked my hands under my head, lounging on a bed of clouds, covered by a blanket of stars.

  What a night! I had never felt such happiness, such tranquility, such contentment. There were no burdens to bear and no issues to resolve. I felt the warmth of an inner peace I would have never thought possible.

  Then the little Bluish Fairy zoomed into the foreground. “How do you like it?”

  “It’s wonderful,” I said. “I never dreamed the Fun Zone could be so beautiful.”

  “Dreams are our stock-in-trade. What are your dreams, Amy?”

  I thought for a second. “I want Fred to like me.”

  “But, he already likes you.”

  “No, I mean really like me! I want him to see me for who I am, not for who he wants me to be. I know I’m different, but why does everybody have to treat me that way. I want people to respect me like they would anyone else. Oops! I think I just made two wishes. Am I allowed more than one?”

  “As many as you like.”

  “In that case, how about adding air conditioning to my car?”

  While thinking up more dreams for my wishlist, I heard a far-off voice calling to me, like someone shouting from the end of a long tunnel.

  “AMY!”

  “Would ending war and poverty be asking too much?” I asked my fairy friend.

  The distant voice got closer.

  “AMY, WHAT’S THE MATTER?”

  “I’d also kinda like to be the 2nd-ever woman president.”

  I now felt someone shaking me.

  “SNAP OUT OF IT!”

  The fairy sprinkled my head with fairy dust, then whispered in my ear, “Remember, Amy, dreams come true at the Fun Zone.”

  Then she whirled her magic wand.

  Poof!

  “Wake up, Amy!” yelled Zac, shaking me by my shoulders.

  I blinked myself back to reality and looked around. I was in the same spot I had been standing before handing my brain over to my Jimmie.

  “Are you alright?” asked Zac. “I’ve been trying to bring you out of your Jimmie coma for the last five minutes.”

  “Zac! You should have seen it. It was amazing!”

  “Seen what?”
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  I gazed up at the sky, wearing a melancholy grin. “The most beautiful place I’ve ever been to.”

  “The Fun Zone?”

  “Yes. I was there!”

  “You didn’t go anywhere. You’ve been right here the whole time.”

  “You’re wrong! It was real. It was a clear, moonlit evening. I floated up in the air, then soared over the lights like an eagle.”

  Zac grabbed my head with both hands and redirected my gaze into his eyes.

  “Listen to yourself, Amy! Don’t you see what’s happening? Your Jimmie sucked you in with its lies, to get you to run off to the Fun Zone, just like it did to all the others.”

  My playful haze faded as the truth of his words sank in.

  “I feel so foolish,” I said.

  “It’s okay. Now you know the power we’re up against. Jimmies can trick you into doing whatever they want, even by filling your head with a lot of phony dreams.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair, on the off chance there was some fairy dust in it. There wasn’t. A tear fell from my eye, and I thought to myself, but a wonderful dream it was.

  A line of yellow Fun Buses were parked in the bus circle. On the curb stood hundreds of kids waiting to board them.

  Zac and I snuck to the back of the line. Everything was going according to plan, until I saw something we hadn’t anticipated. A green light above the bus entrance flashed as each passenger crossed the threshold, verifying the Jimmies in their heads.

  “Do you see that?” I whispered to Zac. “The minute you step foot on that bus they’ll know you’re not a Jimmiehead.

  “Maybe you were right,” said Zac. “I should have stayed home. I’m going to screw up the whole mission.”

  “Stop that!” I said. “You’re coming with me, even if I have to tie you to the back of the bus.”

  That idea actually wasn’t so crazy. Each bus had an emergency exit window in the back.

  “I have it,” I said. “Here’s what we’ll do. You jump out of line and keep out of sight. After I get on the bus, you run to the back of it. I’ll unlock the emergency exit and pull you inside through the rear window.”

  “You think it’ll work?” asked Zac.

  “I’m sure it will. All you have to do is follow orders.”

  Zac smiled and saluted me like a dutiful soldier. “Good luck, general.”

  I returned his salute. “And to you, sir. See you at the rendezvous point.”

  The green light flashed as I climbed onto the bus. I quickly moved to the back and looked out the rear window. Zac was in position. I turned the red handle and swung open the escape hatch.

  “C’mon, Zac!” I said, reaching down to him. “No one’s looking.”

  Zac stretched his arms up toward me, but his short stature left his hands just out of my reach.

  The bus engine started.

  “Put your foot on the bumper,” I shouted, over the roar of the motor.

  Zac got one foot up and pushed off, gaining the height he needed to grab on to the window frame.

  The bus started to move, with Zac dangling helplessly below me.

  I grabbed his arms and pulled with all my might. Zac maneuvered his elbows over the edge. One final tug from me and we collapsed onto the back seat.

  Just then a boy in the next seat turned around and narrowed his eyes at us.

  “Hey!” he shouted. “You’re smuggling someone onto the bus, aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m not,” I said. “He’s just realizing his first dream. He always wanted to sneak onto a bus without the driver seeing him.”

  The boy smiled. “Cool!”

  As expected, the winding trek up the hill was a boisterous one. The passengers wreaked as much havoc as they possibly could. They bounced on their seats like they were trampolines. One boy found a fire extinguisher and sprayed everyone he could before it ran dry. A girl tried to start a sing-a-long of “The Wheels On The Bus Go Round,” but was mercilessly shouted down. Oddly, a rousing chorus of “99 Bottles of Beer,” was acceptable.

  “Why is everyone acting so crazy,” I asked Zac. “Are their Jimmies doing this?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Zac. “Jimmies implant themselves in the temporal lobe of the brain. Aggressive behavior is caused by reduced serotonin activity in the prefrontal cortex.”

  “Is that so?” I said. “Tell me, Mr. Wizard, how long have you been a brainiac?”

  “I’ve always been smart. I think I inherited it from my biological parents. Besides, I wouldn’t be a proper nerd if I wasn’t.”

  “You don’t happen to have superpowers, too, do you? We could really use that right about now.”

  “Don’t be silly. You need an overdose of radiation, or be a pointy-eared space alien for that. Check your comic books.”

  Our bus slowed as we approached the Fun Zone gate. Each bus ahead of us was allowed through without stopping. But as we got there, our bus came to an abrupt halt.

  The front door whooshed open, and in stepped that creepy security guard.

  He briefly observed the chaotic scene, then shouted, “Shut up, you mangy maggots!”

  The ruckus ceased at once. Everyone took their seats and folded their hands in their laps, like little angels. The guard slowly marched up the aisle, his combat boots rocking the bus with each step. He inspected every seat as he went.

  Zac and I ducked down.

  “Who is this guy?” whispered Zac.

  “Someone you don’t want to mess with,” I said. “You’d better hide.”

  There was just enough room for Zac’s small frame to fit under the seat in front of us.

  The guard finally arrived at the back seat and leaned in to my face. I could see my reflection in his dark shades. I returned his stare, showing no fear. Without saying a word, the straight-faced man backed away and exited the bus.

  I tapped Zac on the shoulder. “You can get up now.”

  Zac unfolded like an accordion. “Are we there?”

  “Fun Zone, dead ahead!”

  I stepped off the bus with the other kids. Zac exited through the rear window. Just like we had seen the night before, the Fun Zone was bright and alive.

  The others ran off to begin there night of bliss. Zac and I stopped to look up at the brightly-lit sign:

  Have Fun at the Fun Zone!

  The view beyond the archway filled me with excitement.

  “What part of the brain makes you feel exhilaration?” I asked Zac.

  “I can’t answer that right now,” he said. “I’m getting too much activity in my amygdala.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m scared!”

  I didn’t want to admit it, but I was just as afraid as Zac was. I didn’t know as much about brain anatomy as he did, but I knew what adrenaline was. It was surging through my veins like a Nascar fuel pump at the Daytona 500.

  “Let’s do it!” I said excitedly.

  “Let’s get it over with,” said Zac anxiously.

  Then we strolled under the luminous archway, and into the greatest adventure we would ever know!

  Chapter 10

  Dream Park

  The tree-lined parkway guided Zac and me to the heart of the Fun Zone. Electric fireflies on the branches winked at us as if to say, “Howdy, neighbor!” The old park had cleaned up pretty nicely. Where weeds once marred the landscape, rose gardens and marble statues stood like ambassadors to its glorious past. Jazz bands got the park humming, blowing rollicking tunes from the Gatsby era.

  “This is pretty cool!” I said. “It’s like walking into a time tunnel.”

  “Or, walking into a trap!” said Zac.

  Skyway cable cars coasted high above us along the same route, offering guests a bird’s-eye view of the twinkling lights. I waved to the riders overhead, who returned my greeting like we were old friends. Then, Zac became the unfortunate victim of a rather common, teenage ritual.

  Splat!

  A glob of drooling spittle landed on his
shoulder.

  “Ahh, gross!” cried Zac.

  “Congratulations,” I said. “You’ve just become the recipient of some rude teenager’s dream.”

  Zac splashed water from a drinking fountain onto the point of impact. “Is this what we have to look forward to?”

  Some mild giggling rose from the other visitors around us. I held back a few chuckles of my own. But one voice rang out in laughter above all the others. It was Laughing Lucy, the mechanical clown that welcomed guests to the Crazy House. The life-sized dummy thrashed about in hysterics above the entrance, her wooden jaw moving to the recorded laugh track.

  “If Nell is at the Fun Zone,” I said, “this is as good a place as any to start looking for her.”

  Our inspection of the vintage fun house began by stumbling through a maze of mirrors. I followed close behind Zac, allowing him the embarrassment of bumping into the clear plastic walls.

  Walking through a slowly revolving tube was next. Zac made it to the other side by running flat out down the center of it. I tried a more methodical approach, crossing one foot over the other while walking sideways. It would have worked, had I not stepped on my own foot. Down I went, then tumbled like a wet sponge in a cement mixer. I finally made it out in one piece, with only a slight bruise to my big toe.

  With the obstacle course behind us, we emerged into a large open space, jammed with Fun Zone guests.

  The room was a showplace of classic fun house activities. Glide down a 50-foot slide on a gunnysack. Visit a room with slanted walls where everyone appears tilted. Take your own picture in a photo booth—four snaps for a quarter!