All this voluntary COVID-19 self-quarantining has a way of making my imagination run even wilder sometimes, and my subject today is a fine example of that.
Down through the ages many have pondered on ways they could cheat the Grim Reaper by not dying. I recall an article I read years back that talked about various means and theories, but the one section that inspired me to write this was about how folks are being frozen with notions of being thawed out and living in the future. Cryogenics, it’s called.
The cost is astronomical, but like anything else that’s for sale, there’s always a bargain. For substantially less, they will freeze only your head, and they’ll hopefully some day be able to attach it to another body for you, or else will have figured out by then how to grow you a new body. There was no way I could let this thought slide by without commenting on it.
Suppose the body attachment and new body theories don’t pan out and you wake up in the year 2099 and are still only a head. What’s life gonna be like for you then? Since we’re way out on a limb here anyway, we may as well use our heads. I mean, imagination.
Obviously, heads won’t be able to take care of themselves, so if there are no living descendants (or at least none that want to inherit a living head), I propose an “adopt-a-head” agency. Think of it as the most unique of house guests. I wouldn’t call it a pet, as it can hear you do that and will not take kindly to being called that.
If I adopted one, I think I’d call it Fred. Yep, Fred the head. Kinda grabby, ain’t it? In this whacked scenario, I of course would have Fred for companionship, being alone because my wife would have left me the first time I started talking about adopting one. And I think me and Fred could get along fabulously.
Believe it or not, he could be helpful around the house. I’d have a place to put my hat when I came in from work, someone to tell jokes with, and somebody to harmonize with in the shower while I was soaping myself up or shampooing his hair.
I think he’d be low maintenance. Some shampoo, tooth paste, chap stick and an occasional haircut ought to do it. And then there’s shaving, unless I want him to sprout a beard. He could be my very own talking Chia pet!
We could get into sports together. I wonder if I’d have to buy him a ticket at the ball games? It’s not like he’d take up a seat, because he’d never be able to see anything from that far down. I’d never want Fred to feel left out of activities and games. I could invite friends over for a game of “keep away” or “volley-head” now and then, or perhaps “dodge head.” Yes, of course I’d put a helmet on Fred so he wouldn’t be hurt. The possibilities go on and on.
“Here, Fred, hold the end of this rope with your teeth. We’re gonna play some tether-head!”
When the grandkids come over we could play “hide the head” and Fred could help out by giving clues — “Your getting warmer!”
That is, assuming my grandkids wouldn’t mind Fred being around. Then again, he might be a bit unsettling to them.
“Uncle Fred’s staring at me again, Papa! Make him stop staring at me!”
For Christmas or his birthday I could get him stuff like a hat or cap, chewing gum or maybe some sunglasses. Sun tan lotion would be helpful too, as would some kind of customized stand for him, so he wouldn’t fall over when he sneezes.
We could enjoy music together. When I played my guitar he could sing along or else maybe play a kazoo. Another good Christmas gift idea; I better write that one down for future reference!
Me and Fred could watch TV together. I, of course, would retain control of the remote at all times. Nothing personal, but I wouldn’t want him slobbering all over it while trying to change channels with his tongue. I could have the TV channel set to something he liked so he could watch it while I was at work. Then again, I’d hate for the house to catch fire with him in it, so I might just take him along with me. Inconspicuously, of course. Hey, a bowling ball bag! Let me write that down too.
Too bad we have self-sticking postage stamps now. Fred could’ve made a great stamp licker. If I were a teacher, what a good class monitor he would make when I had to leave the room for a bit. And just imagine the fun we could have at Halloween!
Here’s one better — when those pesky door-to-door salespeople come around and ask to speak to the head of the household. “Yes, of course, let me get him for you!” And you never hear from them or their company again.
At any rate, I know all this is far-fetched and improbable, but sometimes it’s fun just to imagine. If the future is anything like that, I hope they stick to heads. I’d hate to have a bunch of hands running loose all over the house like blind tarantulas.
I better quit while I’m ahead. And yes, I knew you were waiting for me to say that. Let’s hope this virus thing ends soon, before I really go crazy.