Speak Through the Lens
I’m still amazed I got such an opportunity, on my very first day as an AV tech. I should say seized such an opportunity, quoting Horace here, since credit goes to the one who acts in the moment. Just that morning Mama was telling me I lacked gumption. I was late bringing her sausage muffin, and she was already sitting up in bed. She gave me an earful, louder than the jets on the north runway. My problem wasn’t just being a landscaper, it was working with those people. They’re a bad influence, she said. They’ll make you settle. America is about grabbing what’s yours, before they take it.
Well I grabbed it. When Miguel told the crew they wanted volunteers for the event, I raised my hand and probably gave a little yell, like ‘oh!’ The guys laughed at me, like they do, me being the white guy always talking about the future, doing online classes and so forth. But in that moment, my heart spun up and I felt something big coming.
I felt it later while I taped down cables on stage. Mr. Fancy was there to rehearse, pacing back and forth, asking questions about where some journalist would sit, and what volume the music would play, and whether smuggled cameras might capture too much of the secret device. He was obsessed with security and preparation and so in the middle of one of his rants he stopped suddenly and looked down at my work and said, Now I like that. That’s how you do things. Look how this guy (what’s your name?) look how he does something as brain dead as taping cables--look how the cable is perfectly laid within the tape edges and how the ends meet so no one trips? Patrick, do you see that? Can we take a lesson from this guy and stabilize the projection with the same care and precision?
Colton, I said.
Mr. Fancy stopped pacing and looked at me. I could smell his citrusy cologne.
That’s my name, I said. Colton.
He stared at me for a while, smiling. What kind of name is that? Some cowboy name?
I didn’t take offense, because I was trying to place his accent. Argentinian? He might have known about cowboys from days on the pampas. But then I realized that of course not, he was making fun, not just of me but also of Mama.
I got ready to explain that Mama did like how Colton sounds wild-westy, but actually her inspiration came from an actor on General Hospital, which got her through some rough times after Daddy was arrested before I was born.
But he interrupted, Stand up. Would you mind?
So I stood up, not because he said so but because I knew I would tower over him.
You’re a tall man, he said. I could see strands of his shaggy hair rising in a wave of static.
He dragged me over to the podium, climbed on the step, and said, Look, Patrick! Could this guy stand in for Lillian as our mule?
Patrick didn’t look up from his laptop, but said, I guess, if she’s that sick…
Mr. Fancy said, He’s the perfect height! He put his hands over my head like a halo and said, Device goes right here, we’re both in frame--perfect money shot, right? Elsa? Good?
Elsa said, Well if he’s our mule, we’ll have to get him changed and start rehearsing like now. Do we have any shirts that size left?
The room was filling with staff and the press were lining up outside. 1,500 people, they said. Journalists, influencers, bloggers, execs. They had me stand in the demo location and tried out lighting arrangements. I could smell the electric ozone. I described the setup they needed, but Elsa shooshed me and said, Just concentrate on your posture. No slouching with the device!
Mr. Fancy whispered, You’re probably tired, Mr. Colton?
For some reason I blurted, Well I bet I’m the only one who took three buses this morning.
He leaned forward to see if I was joking. He said, Don’t mind Elsa. She’s our unicorn. Where do you live, sir?
Drive toward the airport until you can’t, I said. That’s my house.
He laughed. Convenient for travel!
I asked, When do I see the device?
He put his hand on my shoulder and it was strangely warm and heavy for such a small man. Very soon, he said. Not before showtime.
Elsa added, Remember: it’s heavy. Don’t let them see that. Or the cable.
They put me backstage and the A/C was noisy, cranking so the device wouldn’t overheat. But I could still hear what Mr. Fancy said, sort of a liberal utopian sermon. The usual things like ‘enhancing human capabilities.’ But also his own psychedelic spin, ‘A wealth of knowledge for the teeming billions occupying no more space than electrons, but filling infinite rooms, infinitely.’ He whipped up the crowd. Then they called me on stage.
I had to walk perfectly to the ‘X’ of gaffer’s tape. With all those lights and faces, I started to sweat. I could feel it pooling up under the tight band that secured the device to my head.
The audience typed furiously on tablets and laptops.
Please welcome Colton, Mr. Fancy said. He might seem like a cowboy, but I assure you the only heat he’s packing is this revolutionary new device.
The audience laughed and relaxed, and Mr. Fancy went into the technical details.
This technology is no big deal now. You’ve seen videos probably. But up on stage, through the huge lenses, I was mesmerized. Cartoon chipmunks climbed over the people in the first row. Rainbow jellyfish floated farther back. Starlight settled in sparkling dust across everything, falling from some unseen universe just beyond the device’s tiny field of view.
It surprised me to feel Elsa dabbing sweat from my face. Mr. Fancy made a joke out of it.
Big day for Colton, he said. This morning he was outside pulling weeds. But it’s so easy even our landscaper can do it!
The audience made a gasp like ‘did he really say that?’ and then the awkward pause broke into uproarious laughter. I became more aware of the room.
They were projecting the demo on 20-foot displays. I could see them on the back wall. There was my sweating head, my mouth breathing. Mr. Fancy was just in frame, gesturing, holding the money shot. In another camera, they showed what I saw in the room. And in a third camera, they showed my eyeball. It was disconcerting, frankly, to see your eye so large. It must have been 6 feet tall. It darted. It twitched. A little bloodshot, from the sweat probably. It was misleading, of course, but on all those screens my giant eye looked scared.
Mr. Fancy put his hand over his microphone and said, Hang in there, big guy. Almost done.
Then he told them, It’s perfectly natural for your eye to move around like that. But we factor all that to understand your intent. You don’t have to think--the computer does. Whether you’re a surgeon or a landscaper. So easy… even his mother can do it!
Now. I know in video footage it sounds like he said ‘Even my mother,’ but I distinctly heard ‘Even his mother,’ so maybe they’ve edited it. Either way, he inspired me to act.
I pushed my head forward to feel the tension of the cable. I held it and began walking forward toward the stairs. As I took the first step, the cable yanked free of the big hidden computer and dragged behind me like a bride’s veil. I kept walking down the aisle, faster and faster. I heard Mr. Fancy try to make a joke but it came out as a high and strained stutter. The journalists rose to their feet and pulled out their smuggled cameras as I passed. The security guards at the door were loafing, not expecting me, so I started running.
Outside it was hot and bright. My eyes hurt and I had trouble seeing my way. I heard the crowd coming behind me, all 1,500 of them, in a roar like a jet. For some reason, I kept thinking of my giant eye, like I was running from it.
Security caught me pretty fast--those guys are fit. They hit me hard, like cornerbacks, and all three of us went ‘oof!’ when we hit the ground. But I persevered. I kept my head up, still wearing that monstrous headdress, and grinned back at the bloggers and influencers. Just like I was hamming it up, like I was saying cheese, just holding that pose so they all could capture it perfectly. And today and forever probably you can go on your computer and type ‘Colton’ and see my money shot. Now everybody knows me. So watch this space.
Because I have a lot to say.
