Back Again

Saturday 3.45pm

It was dark inside but still I entered. I had to, my mission dictated it. "Track her down" a voice deep in my head kept repeating, "If you really want your previous life back, you have to do this". So I walked guardedly through the doors and allowed the atmosphere inside to enfold me. It was crowded. Deep repetitive music throbbed all around and coloured lights were everywhere. The hypnotic images on a row of large screens in the distance caught my eye and drew me onwards, inwards to the very heart of the room. Carefully moving through the crowd I kept glancing at the faces around me. Everyone seemed dull, empty, zombie-like almost, as only an overexposure to recreational drugs or in this case modern technology can cause. It was easy to succumb, I was already disorientated and moved ever inwards. Trying to get me bearings, I stopped briefly in front of one of the screens and of course, it happened. In an instant, as I stopped a woman locked on to me and began to thread her way through the crowd. Muttering under my breath "Keep moving" I did so and she lost interest once more, scanning the crowd around her for easier prey. They were everywhere, I could see that now. Predators, given away by their sweaty desperate expressions, unhealthy pallor, and too tight clothing they moved through the crowd picking us off one by one. This was their honey trap, and I was no match for it.

But as I turned to leave I noticed a gap in the crowd to one side, beyond the silver and chrome. Intrigued, I moved towards this still point amid the cacophony and realised I had found my objective. Ignored by those around her she sat on a table, aloof, quietly separate from all around. Approaching hesitantly I stood and watched her for a minute. Quietly dressed in a simple black number that contrasted sharply with the surrounding garishness, she seemed to be asleep. Unknowingly I had reached out a hand and as I gently caressed her skin she awoke instantly with a flash of light from deep within. I withdrew in awe, this was where real power lay.

Of course, having been seduced by the exotic charms of an Apple MacBook, I didn't buy it at Noel Leeming. I went to somewhere much less scary - Dick Smith.

Now all I have to do is work through the psychological trauma of spending so much money in one go . . . .