the what if machine

The “what if” machine


What a marvellous invention, surely of all the things that he had ever come up with this was one of the best. The idea came to him late one night after a dismal round of poker with the fellows, and once it had entered his head there as no shifting it. He was going to invent a “what if” machine, something that could tell you what would happen when you made certain decisions. Surely if he had a machine that could tell you what the future held he would be safe from poker rounds that left him with nothing but a yellow button in his pocket and no money for a taxi. If it hadn’t been for Albert he would’ve had to walk home, with his injured pride in tow. Dr.Drew Sharp was a shrewd man, who wore a grey overcoat, sensible shoes and rarely smiled. This doesn’t mean that he was unfriendly however; mostly he was just too preoccupied to know what was going on around him. He had a brilliant mind, and even though it was insulated from reality by about a meter of cotton wool he was still a charming, if strange fellow.
The night in question had been spent at Lord Lawrence’s house, even though what exactly he was Lord over remains a mystery. Every Wednesday evening was poker night and the lads took turns to host this event, anxiously collecting greasy snacks and waiting in anticipation till it was their turn. Hosting the poker night was a great honour and carried the extra bonus of ten pounds credit when playing began. Originally they only played for chips, but sooner or later someone would suggest making things “interesting”. Which of course meant playing for money, and such things rarely end well. The fact that Albert was the one who suggested it might go some way in explaining why he offered Drew a lift home even though he lived in the other side of town, but it does not do to speculate unduly over the motives of benefactors. Drew had never been very good at poker, but time and time again optimism triumphed over experience and he stepped into the trap of a little wager. The evening followed its inevitable course, with whiskey flowing freely, smoke choking up the room and people betting more than they were willing to loose. When his pockets were finally empty it came as a bit of a shock, but even more so when all that his rummaging produced was that yellow button, and not only because he couldn’t remember owning a yellow garment ever since he had been old enough to choose his own clothes.
With this nasty little wakeup call, the evening came to an end and people started going their separate ways. The car ride home lasted all of ten minutes, but for Albert it felt like an eternity and he was glad when the old house finally came into view. He pulled up to the curb and was secretly relieved when Dr.Drew didn’t invite him in for coffee. “Chin up old chap, it’ll all look better in the morning!” he quipped as Dr.Drew got out and the grunt he got in reply prevented any more words of wisdom for the evening. Dr.Drew left the car, silently fuming and when the key wouldn’t turn in the lock he cursed the universe for conspiring against him in such a clearly unsporting manner. It was while he was making his tea that the idea finally struck, and once it struck it stuck.
Early the next morning he started working on his “what if” machine, fiddling with nuts and bolts and other equally uninteresting bits of machinery till the early hours. In the end he had something resembling a very psycadelic TV set. The screen was normal enough, but all the bits and blobs surrounding it made it look like something a druggy might invent on a bad comedown. When the time came to test it his hands were trembling slightly, not because he didn’t think it would work, but because he seriously suspected that it would. He slowly pressed the red button the screen became a fuzzy blue colour, he reached for the speaking tube and slowly brought it closer. For some obscure reason now that it had been built he had no clue what to ask it, so he went upstairs to go make some tea instead, hoping that inspiration would find him along the way. Only when he was sitting in his favourite chair did he notice the time, and when he did he promptly decided to head of to bed instead.
The next morning he went about his daily tasks with the ‘what if’ machine practically forgotten and it might have remained that way had his favourite TV show not ended with the dreaded “to be continued” message. These always annoyed him immensely and in this case served to remind him of the “what if” machine standing downstairs. Having finally gotten his question he headed towards the machine and when he saw the faintly accusing blue screen staring back at him he felt a pang of guilt for leaving it on all night. Still, no problem he took the speaking tube and said:” What is going to happen in the next episode?” The machine made a rumbling noise and the screen went black for a few seconds, suddenly images flashed across the screen and there it came, next week’s episode. The detective ended up catching the crook and now that Dr.Drew had proof that his machine worked the possibilities were endless. He went to bed, but even as he dreamed he was preoccupied with questions to ask the machine.
At first his questions were mostly about television programmes, but before long the novelty of this soon started to fade and he turned to it for the more important things. Dr.Drew’s “what if” machine became the little extra insight that every amateur investor dreams about. He made a few choice investments that naturally yielded the best possible returns and within a couple of months he had managed to turn a reasonable income into quite a lavish one. Being a scientist he had never been overly interested in money, but everyone likes having a little bit extra around the house and since he never hurt anyone he couldn’t see the harm in using the machine this way. He even went as far as providing a few tips to his closest friends, and even during thorough questioning he never let on where he had gotten his information. The world lay before him, and from where he stood it was brimming with possibilities.
Like any other addiction this one started slowly, and though this was no chemical it was no less dangerous. Of course he never noticed it, and he might still have denied it even if you asked him today but after a while people started to comment. He spent days following the possible outcome of doing this or that and knowing the outcome somehow numbed the drive to actually do the things. There seemed little point of asking anyone out when you already new exactly how the evening would go and even less so when an evening of mediocre conversation would be the only outcome. When he did manage to go out he would be upset with people for things that they might say if he made certain comments and since nobody else knew about the “what if” machine he often left people feeling perplexed. There are few things as confusing as a fight about something you’ve never said, even if the content did ring true. Being away from the machine held no solace as his mind would be racing about the possible outcome of any choice that was made. The uncertainty drove him mad and often he would rush back and double check every little move. This seemed to be the only way to ensure that he would never make mistakes. He’d never been a fan of mistakes anyway and now that he had a way to avoid them completely he became ever more preoccupied.
Now, it’s all very well if you live in a world of your own, providing you take the time to step out from time to time in order to connect with the rest of humanity. But, what’s the point of talking to people when you already know what they are going to say? Conversations became tiresome and life started to look like a “re-run” without the benefit of a fast forward button to slash the boring bits. His obvious impatience during conversations caused a lot of distress and even more so when he told someone to keep quiet since he already knew what they were going to say and didn’t care for it. All but his closest friends limited their interaction to the most basic, how’d you do’s in fear of his snappy replies. Even then he did not stop; instead he locked himself in his study “living” a life that in actual fact was slowly crumbling around him. It took a long time before the doorbell eventually stopped ringing and he scarcely noticed when it did.
They found him about a week ago, all alone still sitting in front of the machine. I don’t know if anyone ever saw the announcement, but the only people who turned up for the funeral were close family and the people that were paid to be there.
Pity he never found out that living life for yourself is the only thing that makes it worth living.