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Copyrights reserved by the author. If you are in doubt, please click on 'Copyrights' and read the details. How technology speeds up the disaster index by J. G. Fabiano. Everyone tells me that modern technology makes life more efficient. The many technological gadgets available to us now are supposed to organize our lives to the point that little thought or concentration need be expended to take control of our brave new world. The other day my wife and I hosted a holiday barbecue for our family. I had just purchased my third new grill in five years and I was convinced this would be the year I would show everyone that I could cook with the best. I even bought a little timer I could clip on my belt so I would know the exact moment to turn this, or remove that, from the grill. I also purchased a type of fork that not only could be used to turn steaks and chicken but it could also display the inside temperature of the meat. I loved technology on that day and I sincerely believed that technology started to love me. My guests arrived early in the afternoon and set up little circles of conversation like they do at every party I have been to for the past 30 years. A group of uncles and nephews evolved into the playroom to watch the Red Sox surge to another disappointing season. Another group of aunts and nieces staked out on the deck to soak up as much ultra-violet radiation as possible so that they could look like grandmothers well before their time. The wives of the uncles and nephews worked upstairs preparing every kind of salad and "stuff in a bowl" known to mankind. The offspring of the above wandered hopelessly around my yard hoping that this year their hamburger or hot dog would not be burned to a crisp or cold in the middle. This was to be the year that I would show them all that I had finally mastered the art of the barbecue. Everything started out wonderfully. The grill lit up on the first push of the button and the grates of the grill were cleaned and ready for the meat to sizzle. I grabbed a couple of steaks, put the fork down next to the meat plate and set the timer in my pocket to tell me when each item would be cooked to perfection but, as I put the steaks, sausages and chicken on the grill, I heard a loud roar from my playroom. I ran downstairs to see what had happened and I was told that the Red Sox had just hit their sixth home run against the Yankees. Everyone in the room knew, like they knew every other year, that this would be the year the Red Sox would break the Babe's curse. I was enjoying the moment until I heard what sounded like a smoke detector. It wasn't loud but it had the kind of tinny sound that was made to wake up everyone in the house. My uncle told me I had better check the smoke detectors in the house because one never knew when the alarm might be real. I ran up the stairs to check the alarm that seemed to be coming from the first floor of my house. As I passed the kitchen my wife told me she heard it too and it seemed to be getting louder. I told her that I was in the process of checking the smoke detectors. I grabbed a ladder and put my ear to the alarm set in the first floor hallway. I came to the conclusion that it was not that specific alarm and went upstairs to check the detector on the second floor. In the upstairs bathroom my daughter and some friends were lathering themselves up with some type of lotion that promised the perfect tan and, thus, a future skin texture that would rival that of a crocodile. As I passed, my daughter said she heard the sound too and it seemed to be getting louder. I told her I was handling the problem and she should just continue to goo herself up. I pressed my ear to the smoke detector on the second floor and again heard nothing. At that point I was confused because I didn't have a clue as to where the sound was coming from. Going back downstairs and through the kitchen my wife told me she could swear the sound was getting louder and more urgent. There was only one smoke detector left unchecked and that was in the garage so I grabbed another ladder and checked that too. Again, no sound seemed to be emanating from that smoke detector. By now I was really confused and as I went back outside I heard my wife calling up to our daughter to ask if she still heard the alarm. To my surprise my daughter said the sound went away. I also heard one of my uncles from the playroom say I must have fixed it because the sound was gone. I should have been happy the sound was gone but, unfortunately, I could still hear it and I knew it wasn't coming from inside my head. Then, one of my little nieces walked over to me to ask what that high shrilly sound was? The search was still on! The next thing I did was grab a large ladder from my garage and lean it to where the main electric line came into the house. I thought the best way to find out where the sound was coming from was to shut off all the power in the house. Forgetting that I had over 20 people in my house using various forms of electronics to do what they wanted to do, I shut the power off. At that point there was a loud burst of expletives from the playroom as the Red Sox game was blacked out and the women in the kitchen began screaming that the lights had gone out and they couldn't see what they were doing - not that it mattered because the oven and all the blenders and mixers had stopped. After a few seconds everything became quiet, except for the persistent shrill noise in my ear, of course, that I now believed had to be coming from inside my head. Stumped, I switched the power back on and climbed back down the ladder, worried about this latest affliction I would have to contend with for the rest of my life. When I reached the bottom of the ladder my youngest niece pulled at my pant leg. Then she looked up at me with her big bright blue eyes and asked why I was beeping. I reached into my pocket and discovered that it was the timer, the technological marvel that was supposed to make me the perfect outdoors cook. This also explained why, every time I left a room, the sound went away. Relieved, I laughed at my own foolishness and all the commotion I had caused and decided I would tell nobody. Then I remembered why I had bought the timer in the first place. I ran back to the grill which was turning a bright cherry red, opened the top and staggered back from the choking plume of smoke. That was when I discovered the first big barbecue of the summer would consist of salads and stuff in a bowl. Everyone tells me that modern technology is supposed to enable us to take control of our lives but all I have found is that it creates disasters at a faster pace! The End.
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