Oh yeah. Right. I know all about it. Tell me more.
Come to think about it, you ought not be surprised if you see a ghost in a haunted house in a remote village in India. If you don't find ghosts there, then where do you expect to? I've had my share of shrieking skeletons and creaking doors in my village. And I won't even talk about the witch-doctor who dances with his head clutched firmly under his armpit. Ghosts and ghouls are pretty commonplace entities out there and we simple people have learnt how not to antagonize them. Nobody from my village ever wasted time trying to figure out what these things were or where they came from. They were there, as solid a part of the environment as the man-eating leopards.
The reason I won't talk about the witch-doctor is that he's my uncle. And as his sole heir, I was expected to follow in his footsteps. When I was a child I was given lessons on how to talk to the spirit world and how to interpret the answers. I was taught how to fool the poor innocent villagers by telling them what they wanted to hear; regardless of what the spirits said. My uncle was sure I would become a great leader of the people. But then my father decided that I would go to school and get smart instead. Which I did, along with four other boys from the village. But I don't want to talk about those unhappy days either.
I was one of the "fortunate few" who managed to get a college education after school. For which I used to walk fourteen kilometers to the nearby town every day, but that's a different story. I got myself a degree. And then I came to the big city. Oh, it wasn't as big as some of the cities you'd have seen, but it was big enough for me. I was as miserable as it's possible for a person to be. Then I did something which changed my life forever. I took a correspondence course in basic computing. Oh, why didn't I stay back in the village and become a witch- doctor ?
The computer course was supposed to help me get a better job. I landed one as a "data entry operator" which meant that I would be spending my days banging away on a keyboard. Such is life.
The very first day I knew that something was wrong. As soon as I sat down in front of the terminal I was assigned to, I felt two cold arms encircling me. The manager must have seen my alarmed look, for he smiled sardonically and said that it would take me some time to "adjust". I knew that it was just a machine, but I couldn't believe that it wasn't sentient in some way. And the two cold arms refused to go away.
That night I made up my mind. I would never go back to sit in front of that machine again. I would go back to my village. I would become a witch-doctor and become a great leader. But the next morning found me staring at the monitor again. The two cold arms were waiting for me and I couldn't help myself being drawn into their embrace. I looked around to see whether I could summon help. All I saw was blank faces staring at flickering screens, their expressions so like the zombies that my uncle brought forth from the graveyards.
Every morning I would make an effort to escape. And every morning I would sit in front of the screen and start tapping away. The two cold arms would hold me tighter and tighter and suck me deeper into the trap, if it was a trap...
There was one thing I figured - this "thing", whatever it was, had never harmed me. It just held on to me; and made me come back in front of the screen every morning. Then why did I fear it? Couldn't I try to talk to it ? Like I did with the spirit world back home ? I talked; and so did it.
Its words were as cold as its arms. It was as if it knew no warm feelings. I felt that it had desires - to expand, to assimilate. And that did nothing to remove my fears. There was no way it could be manipulated, no way to use it for my benefit or for anyone else's - there was something very sinister about it.
I don't remember much about the next few months. Each day was like the one before it. Cold arms, flickering screens and tapping away. A few conversations with "it"; and it seemed to get more alive each time it talked.
Then one day, the cold arms around me were gone. Instead there was one large frosty hand which reached right inside me and squeezed my heart. Fear took on a new meaning as the cold swept around and in me.
The thing had enlarged beyond my imagination, it had spread its tentacles all around it; and flashes of electricity sped along innumerable wires to and from all the other terminals in the room. From somewhere far off, I heard the manager boasting about his new network.
I am now a witch-doctor back in my village. I have an unholy nexus with the spirits. I have sold my soul to them, I give them whatever they want. Anything to protect me from those cold arms...
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