I like Sci-fi Stuff

I'm a sucker for sci-fi. I like it all; except the super-serious stuff (although I sometimes fall for that, too) — I prefer to steer clear of moody brooding. Deep & important themes & topics are nice; I just wish that they could be presented a little more cheerfully than they usually are. The lighthearted stuff is what I'm naturally attracted to: the sci-fi equivalent of rom-com.

My liking for science fiction stems from my love of the imagination: fantasy, romance... Prior to the Advent of the Machines, what did people write/dream/poeticize about? The answer is: Knights and damzells. Then when our shared world of reality became overrun with loud mechanical devices in the Industrial Age, our dreamy poetic writings assimilated these things, in the form of robots and spacecraft that boasted elaborate control panels.

But here's what I'm trying to get at: Did you ever notice how much of the wow-factor of all the sci-fi stuff that we see in movies & television is caused by adding blinking lights to normal objects? For instance, you can take an outdated computer monitor and keyboard from the olden days (back when technology didn't know how to spy on everyone), and, if a moderner could be bothered to glance at this heap of old electronic gear, she would laugh and remark "It looks ridiculous because it's all bulky & beige; plus it's lacking superfluous luminescence." But spraypaint these items glossy black, then install flashing lights on their casing, and the same moderner who recently laughed at their homeliness will suddenly gasp in awe: "I have seen God face to face, and my life is preserved."

Darth Vader from STAR WARS (1977) wears a black suit that has a control panel on its breastplate: note the red and green lights. (There are switches, too: I wonder what they're for.) Also consider that the interior of any spaceship in any sci-fi production will feature blinking, flashing lights on all its levers, knobs, and buttons. 

What is the purpose of all this razzle-dazzle? It's as Emerson said of the rhodora's beauty: Razzle-dazzle is its own excuse for being. Why do stars twinkle? Well, wouldn't YOU twinkle, if you could? In other words: All sci-fi stuff is riddled with flashing lights for the very same reason that evening gowns are blessed with sequins.

Think about how the ruby slippers that Dorothy models throughout THE WIZARD OF OZ (1939) obtain their mystique from the zillions of sci-fi lights that are installed within their material. That's also why, when the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) wishes to thrust another rocket into the outer darkness, the engineers in the control room all click together the heels of their loafers, to instigate a countdown and liftoff.

Even big-time drug dealers in ultra-crime films about the cocaine trade between all the Americas highlight the coral reefs in their aquariums with purple fluorescents. This causes the exotic fish to look pretty; moreover, it accentuates the natural charms of gushing water, when the aquarium's glass is finally penetrated by bullets after a business meeting turns sour.

Nowadays one can purchase a ten-pack of light-emitting diodes (LEDs) for less than a manicure. These bulbs are tiny, and they need NO batteries; for they require such little energy that they can simply siphon their voltage from the surrounding air-atoms and continue glowing indefinitely. I recommend welding a few of these LEDs to the handle of your toothbrush: that way, your utensil will seem futuristic: 

If you meet a potential soul-mate at the bar after seven martinis, and she hooks her arm thru yours and begs you to walk home with her under the starlight, then, after you unlock your front door by using your fingerprint and a retinal scan, you can lead your prospective spouse into the living room and offer her a seat on the leather sofa: Since the washroom is visible down the hallway from where she is sitting, the damzell's attention will be magnetized to your toothbrush, which is shining so gorgeously. — "Is this what I think it is?" she will ask while pointing & walking down the hall & grasping the handle in her palm & pantomiming a swordfight. Now you can reply: "Yes, it is a toothbrush from the future; and I can prove this, with your permission." Then she will stiffen up and say "I do hereby permit thee." And you can answer: "I'm being very serious: this is no joke — in order to demonstrate that I am indeed from the future, I must remove my trouser pants." And, after hearing this, the damzell will stand and stare for a moment; then she will burst into laughter & say: "There's nothing I would desire more than to engage in a one-night stand with you, ha, ha, ha! That's why we came here, is it not? — after all, we're both drunk; & we're both adults: Let's impregnate each other!" At this point, you can nod solemnly, accepting her answer as decisive; then drop your slacks, revealing a stylish smoothness in place of any reproductive organ: neither pole nor hole. Now you can explain: 

"Yes, what I was telling you at the tavern is true. You might have assumed I was mythmaking just to amuse you, but I AM the Angel who escaped from Heaven after siding with Eternity against the False God's invention of Clocktime; thus I avoided being afflicted with pudenda. — Now that you have seen the proof & no longer need faith, I ask again, dear Mary: Do you accept the offer to become my Queen of the Night?"

Your intoxicated helpmeet will now quickly sober up & approach to feel your uncrucified nature with her own middle fingerprint. Once she grows satisfied that this is not the prosthetic shield of a chastity undergarment but in fact your genuine flesh, she will answer: "I do." And you will live happily ever after.