O l i v e r B e n j a m i n
There is a saying in Central Asia that goes:
animals don’t talk to
us because we don’t respect their opinions.
Doug felt for certain that
if a monkey had taken it upon himself to rob lottery tickets, he must
have known something pretty special—something far outside the
realm of normal monkey experience, that was for sure, and Doug had
been fortunate enough to be the recipient of the assortment of lottery
tickets that this impressive creature himself had picked. What could
be more auspicious than a monkey picking a lottery ticket for you?
Well, except for a ferret running around in three circles and then
vanishing in a cloud of smoke under an elm tree. But then, that never
really
happened. Doug was always careful to separate superstition
from reality.
In keeping with that skeptical philosophy, Doug was watching a
series of commercials with a keen eye. As a highly-trained
professional in the field of prepackaged foodstuffs, he knew that you
couldn’t trust everything that commercials told you. For instance:
any product that advertised itself with the name “homestyle,” as in
“homestyle” muffins, just meant it was bigger and cost more. And
any time a product said it contained a “real” ingredient, as in “real
cheese,” it meant that maybe ten percent of the product was not
synthesized in a laboratory. He also knew that for any product, one-
tenth of the cost went into its actual production, while up to one-half
went towards the formulation of new and better commercials and
advertisements, so it was important to enjoy commercials whenever
possible, as you had already paid through the nose for them.
One series of advertisements he had particularly enjoyed lately
involved very vague, but provocative messages. A completely black
screen would appear for a few second while ominous music played in
the background. Then, after an uncomfortable pause, odd sentences
would appear on the screen. For instance: “What if the human race
was put on trial? Could you defend yourself?” or “What if the gods
came back now? Would you run to them, or would you hide?” or the
supremely unnerving, “They’ve been watching you. Soon you’ll be
watching them. You’d better watch out.” Then, the music stops
abruptly, and the black switches to the kind of grey fuzz you get when
there is no reception, and the commercial is over.
Many people had been so disturbed by the messages that they
called in to complain, demanding to know what they were for.
However, no one knew, not even the stations that played them. The
slots had been bought by an anonymous agency that had paid cash in
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