Vision 4.0

• Emily Seto, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2012

Presently Robyn’s gaze was out the window, on the blinking billboard advertising the newest Vitality: Vision 4.0. Tempting her. Teasing her.

A synthesised melody resounded from the implant on her left ear. The artificial probes navigated through her peripheral nervous systems, transmitting electric signals from the Metropolitan News Network.

A message scrolled beneath her eyelids. “7th October 2041. The international police have reiterated the importance of reporting any known information about acoustic instrument trade crimes so offenders can be dealt with accordingly. This criminal activity is associated with the illegal production of non-digitalised noises; offenders damage health of civilians – manipulating emotions. Anyone who contributes essential information will be rewarded with Vision 4.0. This is Metropolitan News: the individual connection.”

Twang. Robyn flinched.

A succession of acoustic plucking noises split the air around her, bypassing her reception monitor and entering her ear uninvited. T-t-twang.

The illegal noise aggravated both external and internal implants. Her heart monitor flickered at alarming speed. She should have been used to it by now. But alas, it still gnawed at her very being. Twang. Twang.
That was it. No more.

Robyn plugged in her earphones and let the digital music soothe her. Drenched with bitter disappointment, she watched her paternal figure pick the strings of his illegal instrument. What was it called again? A guitar.

Noticing her stare, the corners of his mouth twitched. Really? An attempt to verbally communicate? Robyn’s reception monitor dismissed his speech as irrelevant. Her attention drifted to the alluring call of Vision 4.0. All she had to do was drop a name. Easy as pie.

He would be arrested. Robyn toyed with that thought, recalling the abandoned jobs, homes, friends – all for vitalities. Was it worth it?
It was Vision 4.0. Of course it was. What other smartphone was able to convert imagination into a holographic image?

Her mind was made up. With silent confidence, Robyn mentally transferred the information from her brain into her computer’s hard drive.

“My paternal figure, Nightingale Skye, owns and frequently plays an acoustic guitar, evoking pain and discomfort-”

Twang.

Robyn frowned, wondering why her electronic music did not drown out the noise.

“- disrupting peace of mind.” T-t-twang.

Robyn pressed her earphones closer. Twang. She cringed as the sharp ring of the nylon strings sporadically penetrated every gap in her digitalised song.

“He traded with Hawk Flynn in 2036.” Twang. “He has since traded illegal guitars, violins, flutes…” Twang. Twang. T-t-twanggg...

Robyn held her breath, thoughts flying wild in her mind. Her heart monitor was flaring red lights again. She added her name and address with haste. Her confidence dwindled to a fragment while the volume of the guitar escalated to a maximum. The internal computer edited and collated her message. Then it vanished into cyberspace.

Twang. The sound grated against her heart.

***

Robyn sat in humming silence, holographic screens from Vision 4.0 materialised behind her. Presently her gaze was out the window, on the sparkling billboard advertising the newest vitality: Vision 4.1.