It’s on. It’s on all the time anymore. I don’t even bother to turn it off, and I reach for it, down the side of my chair, flick aside the magnetic power connector and raise it to its familiar spot on my lap. Flip the screen up and begin. It’s a fluid motion I’ve performed a million times now, and I know the balance and the weight of it. My browser is already up and glowing–why is it on a page for all inclusives in Barbados? I had begun my search last night with fares to Paris—can’t quite recall how I got to Barbados.
I click on my “movies” tab. Inception is showing at 3:15 p.m. I’ve already seen it once but must see it again, as there’s something compellingly familiar about its multilayered plot. As I’m about to search for “Inception explained” just one more time, the music plays, that subtle hum that says someone is trying to contact me in this cyberworld. I quickly shift over to Mail and see that I’ve a new email from Swaptree. Zimmer’s score for the film has just become available and I can swap for it. The darn score just came out—how are these getting up on Swaptree so soon? Are they just ripping these things now? Is this a snail mail version of the original Napster with postage?
I’m two levels down and investigating the CD’s condition and reviews and checking out the seller’s rating. I begin to question my swap–how does the score really hold up on its own, not as the bits and pieces of intense driving brass laden electronica in the tense setting of the film itself? Click. Now I’m in iTunes, three levels down. Time slows, there’s tons of new music I want to check out, The National, The Morning Benders, and of course Arcade Fire. I could spend a lifetime here, forget my wife and job and just become one with the music, movies, and apps. Zimmer! Zimmer, I’m here for Zimmer! Check it out. Sounds good. Gonna do the trade. But is it true what I’ve read that the dream sequence intros are based on a slowed down version of Edith Piaf’s “Non, je ne Regrette Rien?” Gotta look that one up again.
Click. Four levels down. Time has slowed again. There are many articles on Nolan’s use of Piaf’s classic. I choose a YouTube video that compares the score to the song. How long have I been down here? An hour, two hours? But I need to know if its true—certainly can’t trust YouTube so I’ll download the mp3 from iTunes and slow it down in GarageBand. I’m four levels down and just one more click could send me into limbo. Am I to become an old man down here, regretting the time I’ve wasted? But I’ve got to know—what’s one more click?
Then comes the music, that familiar hum where it all began. But this time the hum kicks me back to level two. Shoot, I’ve got to get back with our web programmer—maybe that’s her trying to reach me down here. Thank goodness it’s just another fishing scam trying to extract some info and get at my credit line. What time was Inception playing? I flip the screen down. I can feel the weight of it, rub my hand across its surface and slide it back to its position next to my chair. Everything is right as rain. Maybe I need a break.
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