Bear v. Shark (8 page)

The guy from the next booth over walks the Normans out to their Sport Utility Vehicle in the parking lot of Ma’s Old-Fashioned Interstate Tavern.

Choppers say, “Buzz.”

He says, “Gosh, it’s been real nice getting to know you all.”

Curtis says, “Likewise.”

The guy says to Mrs. Norman, “You have a nice family. Those kids are sharp.”

Mrs. Norman says, “Thank you. The school says they’re just average, but I’ve always suspected they are gifted and talented.”

Mr. Norman unlocks the Sport Utility Vehicle and gets in the driver’s side. He’s still thinking about making love to the shark. He thinks it might make a good cable TV movie, sort of a they-came-from-different-worlds thing.

The guy says, “They say the computer shark and bear are more real than real ones.”

Curtis says, “Yeah, more lifelike.”

Mr. Norman starts the Sport Utility Vehicle. He thinks it could be called
The Catch of the Day
or something clever like that. And maybe the shark’s baby would get switched with another baby. Or maybe a human woman would agree to have the shark’s baby but when it came time to deliver she just couldn’t stand to give it up.

Mrs. Norman says, “Apparently they’re just like a bear and shark, except even more so.”

Matthew says, “Yeah, but let’s not forget the first time around.”

There would be a court scene. The lawyers would say the shark was unfit to be a mother. Witnesses would get badgered. There would be a lot of objecting. Your Honor, I don’t really see how that’s relevant here! That stern guy who plays Turk on
Bear Beach
could play the judge. Some objections would be sustained and others would be overruled.

Curtis says, “That was human error.”

Matthew says, “Still.”

The guy says, “They say they’ve got it all worked out now.”

A policeman with a stun gun jerks a half-naked guy out of the dumpster in the parking lot. He (the policeman) says, “I wouldn’t try any cowboy shit, mister.”

Mrs. Norman has her hand on the handle of the passenger side door. Matthew and Curtis lean against the Sport Utility Vehicle. The guy from the next booth over rocks from one foot to the other.

The guy twitches and rubs his palms on his pants.

The ending would be sad, probably, but also laced with hope and redemption. Mr. Norman thinks maybe he could serve as an adviser on the film.

Mrs. Norman says, “Well.”

The guy says, “It was really great spending time with you.”

Mrs. Norman says, “OK, boys, let’s get this show back on the road.”

The guy says, “Let’s keep in touch.”

Matthew and Curtis climb into the Sport Utility Vehicle and put on their safety belts and headphones. Mrs. Norman sits in the passenger seat, shuts her door, and rolls down her window. She says, “You take care.”

The guy says, “Thanks for the CubCake.” He walks over to the driver’s side and taps on the window. Mr. Norman rolls down the window. The guy says, “Drive safely.” He (the guy) sticks his hand into the SUV and when Mr. Norman shakes the guy’s hand, a note falls into his lap.

Mr. Norman says, “Thanks.”

The note says,
We can help you.

Mr. Norman pulls the Sport Utility Vehicle out of the parking lot. The kids and Mrs. Norman wave to the guy and the guy waves back.

Plaintiff, closing arguments, plea bargain.

Mrs. Norman says, “He sure was nice.”

Mr. Norman says, “Your witness, Steve.”

OK, hands on your buzzers.

A:
In his long-out-of-print book
Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business,
this shrill cultural critic wrote, “A
pseudo-context
is a structure invented to give fragmented and irrelevant information a seeming use. But the use the pseudo-context provides is not action, or problem-solving, or change. It is the only use left for information with no genuine connection to our lives. And that, of course, is to amuse.”

Q:
Who is Neil Postman.

An excerpt from
Swimming with the Sharks: My Two Years at HardCorp,
by Alex Reid, as told to Wendy Timlin:

Of course, people will just remember the bear’s head, which is a terrible shame because we gave the world a miracle that night in Los Angeles. People in my generation never dreamed that they’d see a real fight between a bear and a shark. There have always been cock fights, of course, but I’m talking about the real thing — computer-generated, three-dimensional projection. I’m talking about action so lifelike, so realistic, that it makes real bears and sharks look like cartoons.

For years, Bear v. Shark was just a speculative question, and people thought it would remain that way for a long time. “Who would win in a fight between a bear and a shark?” was no different than “How many angels would fit on the head of a pin?” or “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” or “Who was the better president, Martin Van Buren or William Howard Taft?” But we caught up to it. We tracked it down. We used technology to transform an intractable Zen-like riddle into a spectacle, an event, an experiment — something you could see, hear, and bet money on. This was magic. This was science and technology at their best, utilizing knowledge and equipment to solve problems that once seemed insoluble.

But we rushed it, we got greedy. We got intoxicated by our own power. A week before the show I knew we weren’t ready, and I told my supervisor, Mr. B., but he said there was no turning back now, and I suppose he was right. None of us slept for days. We had a dress rehearsal, a simulation duel, in a secret underground site in New Mexico. Our natural setting was perfect, evocative of both beach and national park. And the animals looked fantastic. Their teeth needed to be whitened even more, but they were beautiful, and we all felt like gods. But we were brought back down to earth pretty quickly when the bear and the shark wouldn’t fight. They “refused to engage,” as the corporate memos said later. We waited and waited, but nothing ever happened. It’s like they didn’t even notice each other. After three hours, we shrank our setting by half, hoping to force an encounter, but those animals just had no interest in fighting. When the bear fell asleep and the shark lunged at one of the stage-hands, we called the thing off and started emergency planning.

We had six days until the show. We pulled all of our programmers off the Van Buren v. Taft project to help us out. But there are millions of lines of code and they are all strung together, tangled in a Gordian knot. When you start messing with code, you alter everything. As we used to say, when you change the paw, you change the claw. So we got them ready to fight, but the bear’s head was altered in the process. It was minimized, as we programmers say. It was minimized by about 40 percent and I know people were upset, but honestly, when the lights went down and the music came on, we didn’t know if the bear would even have a head or if we’d have a hairy shark or what.

We gave the people a miracle. We gave them magic. We gave them fourteen electrifying seconds, and I for one am not ashamed of that.

Out on the interstate.

The dashboard of the Normans’ Sport Utility Vehicle (SUV) says, “Forget your worries, everything is fine.”

The dashboard says, “You just leave everything to me.”

It (this award-winning, first-in-its-class dashboard) says, “Listen, don’t fight it. Look at me. Look at me, surrender yourself, we’ll all live forever.”

This dashboard does not tolerate anxiety or cynicism or ambiguity in the cockpit. Does not allow it. Transforms it with the stare of 100 beguiling eyes: the gauges, dials, and meters. Melts it with decimal-point precision, an unflagging vigilance, a terrifying will to power, and an ever-appropriate use of Light: crisp and bright and heedful of automotive risk where such prudence is called for, subtle and soulful elsewhere.

This is Warm Science — hard data and soft, Scandinavian design.

This dashboard forever changes the way you think about dashboards. This dashboard, in consumer tests, is consistently rated “the most trustworthy dashboard on the market.”

The dashboard says, “Everything is as it should be,” and the dashboard is
right
.

The meters, in earnest resolve, carry on their quiet rivalry (speedo v. odo, thermo v. tacho), each made better, more precise, through the crucible of healthy competition. Each device respects but does not fear the others. Each device is just happy to be there, just wants to make the most of the opportunity, just wants to thank the Lord for its God-given abilities.

The gas gauge verifies that the vehicle’s barrel-chested fuel tank is, how shall we say,
nearly full
. The oil pressure gauge is quick to point out that the oil pressure is remarkably normal. The thermometers gather data at three different sites: outside the vehicle it is Hot (97 degrees); inside the vehicle it is Comfortable (73 degrees); the engine? Well, the engine is running royal-blue cool, no problem there.

This dashboard knows the way to Las Vegas.

The battery is charged, the headlights are on, the time is 3:38
P.M.
PST (Pacific Standard Time), the speed is 74 miles per hour, the four-wheel drive is off (but ready to be on), the air conditioner is on (but ready, whenever called upon, to be off).

That orange light there means the tires are unlikely to explode.

This dashboard knows: twenty-four grains to a pennyweight, three scruples to a dram, twenty quires to a ream. A hogshead is two barrels and a township is thirty-six square miles, you got to get up pretty early in the morning to put one over on the dash.

The phone, the map, the CD player, the cruise control — like the very best waiters or retail store employees, these devices do not hassle or cloy, but are immediately available if their services are required.

Mrs. Norman says, “We are going to witness history this weekend.”

Mr. Norman feels loose in the limbs. He believes that the dashboard is a sage and beneficent despot. Sure, there are sacrifices, but doesn’t one always have to give up a little freedom to achieve stability and happiness?

Mr. Norman, his speech a bit slurred, says, “History.”

Mrs. Norman says, “And it’s something we’ll all share. It’s something we can pass on to our children and grandchildren.”

Matthew says, “It’s not like it won’t be out on DVD in a month.”

The dashboard says the windshield wiper fluid is almost precisely at the Manufacturer’s Recommended Level.

• The majority (52 percent) of Americans think that the shark will win.
  
• While the vast majority (88 percent) of Americans know what event is taking place on August 18 in Las Vegas, just 34 percent know what country we’re currently at war with.
  
• Nearly two thirds of all Dutch two-year-olds can recognize a picture of a bear and a shark.
  
• Almost 70 percent of Americans agree that the bear is more fun and likable than the shark.
  
• HardCorp has an overall approval rating of 71 percent, up from an all-time low of 18 percent two years ago.
  
• Sixty percent of Americans have bought at least one box of Sea-n-Lea Meat Snacks during the last six months.
  
• Almost half (46 percent) of Americans think that a shark is a mammal.
  
• Thirty-eight percent of Americans included the bear and/or the shark in their list of Five Most Important People of the Decade.
  
• Half of all Americans plan to watch the fight on PayView.
  
• Two percent of Americans have been to a cockfight.
  
• Of the 45 percent of Americans who believe in evolution, 58 percent believe that humans are direct descendants of bears.
  
• Asked what they would do if they ran into a bear or a shark, 36 percent of Americans said they would kill it, 33 percent said they would capture it, 22 percent said they would feed it, 8 percent said they would leave it alone or run away, and 1 percent said they would try to have sex with it.
  
• Sixty-eight percent of Americans do not know that both bears and sharks are on the Endangered Species list.
  
• Fourteen percent of Americans agree that good posture is pretty much the key to healthy living.
  

BEAR V. SHARK:
THE CLASSIC GAME OF STRATEGY
AND ENTERTAINMENT

(by C. H. Bachelder)

For 280 million or more players

Ages 0 to adult

Equipment:
Major media, Internet, domed stadium, corporate sponsorship, First Amendment, patriotism, military bases, unemployment, sweatshops, complacent and politically impotent populace, homicide, crack cocaine, fashion, standardized tests

Setup:
Give each player a Television, a second mortgage, a mind-numbing job, a staggering Visa debt, and a set of fast food action figures

Gameplay:
Each player watches Television

Object:
To perform meaningful work and forge rewarding connections with other human beings

Winning:
Ha!