Frivolous Friday, 10.22.2010: The Emperor's new laptop

Once upon a time, in a land suprisingly advanced (technologically speaking) for its political system, there dwelled an Emperor with a highly unsatisfactory laptop. Because, naturally, Emperors simply cannot bear to see someone with something they don't already have. And so he had installed absolutely every software program he'd ever heard of on his top-of-the-line Windows 7 laptop...with entirely predictable results.

One day, as the Emperor struggled to bring up his calendar program for the day's favor-grantings and banishings and enemy-beheadings, a flash and a puff of smoke erupted in the royal audience chamber. As the startled courtiers drew back and exclaimed in fright and amazement, a gaunt wizard in a black tunic and denim breeches strode forward and bowed low before the Emperor and Empress. "Your Majesty!" proclaimed the wizard, "I have journeyed from the Infinite Loop to offer my services in the the troublesome matter of your laptop."

To Her credit, the Empress managed not to roll Her eyes or wear a "Here we go again..." expression as Her husband leaned forward and breathlessly asked, "What have you come to offer Us, O wizard?"

"Sire, if your unworthy servant may be so bold, I posit that your trouble stems from allowing any lowly piece of software to burden your hardware--and your attention. Pray allow me to shoulder the burden of your best interests, to let you focus on the all-important business of ruling!" And, as the wizard spoke, there appeared in the air beside him a white laptop that dazzled the eyes of the assembled Court.

"Behold!" cried the wizard, "The answer for your slow, buggy user experience! And all for a price I think you'll find quite reasonable for the value." And with that, the wizard whispered a figure into the Royal Exchequer's ear. The Exchequer and the Emperor held a hurried whispered conversation while the Empress could be observed biting her tongue.

"Very well," announced the Emperor. We shall henceforth impose a tax upon the willy-nilly installation of Windows programs to pay for Our new-found simplicity. A pox upon too much choice, We say! "Yes!," echoed the assembled courtiers, "A plague upon choices!"

And so it was that the wizard paid a visit to court every several months with new (and spendy) variations on "simplicity." These the Emperor eagerly purchased and financed with new taxes and fees appropriate to the choices being removed: Taxes upon Flash players and .SWF files. Taxes upon real keyboards. Surcharges for having more than one bar on one's cellphone signal or more than one application running at any given time. Taxes on hard drives and optical drives. Steep fines for installing software not approved by the wizard. The Royal Constabulary was even authorized to issue speeding tickets to CPUs running faster than 1.6 GHz.

At long last, the wizard presented the Emperor with his masterpiece: A computer so simple it was invisible and so light it could not, in fact, be distinguished from the air itself. The Emperor of course, simply had to own it--the Exchequer's suddenly bulging eyes and apoplectic coloring notwithstanding. But, before a new tax on all computers heavier than air could be proclaimed, the Empress sweetly announced that, as the Emperor's birthday was nigh, she would finance it from Her own purse. Furthermore, she pointed out, as Her husband's computing experience could not possibly be "simplified" any further, taxes and fees should no longer be required of the populace.

At this, the wizard bade the Emperor, Empress and the court a final farewell, leaving the Emperor to rule His lands while His clerks and Chancellors chose the software best for administering them, and the Empress gratefully retired from Her tech. support duties.

And they all lived happily ever after.