‘I waited for an electrical shock or a Ghostbusters slime attack’
News Item:
Google is the focus of mounting paranoia over the scope of its powers as it expands into new advertising formats from online video to radio and TV, while creating dozens of new Internet services. — Reuters
I’m definitely not someone who is prone to bouts of paranoia, but I began to seriously worry about Google and my privacy several months ago. I haven’t slept well ever since.
My focus has been what goes on with my computer while I sleep. I use a laptop with wi-fi instead of a desk bound computer. I don’t read in bed before going to sleep; I surf the net, pay bills, write testy letters to my congressman and waste time on satire news sites.
I put the battery under my pillow
When it’s nighty-nite time, I completely power down the laptop and close its lid firmly. As an extra precaution, I unplug the power cord from the electrical outlet and remove the laptop battery. I put the battery under my pillow.
Then I wrap the laptop in a lead-lined blanket (Home Depot plumbing department, $19.95.). Next, I wrap the lead blanket-computer combination with a several feet of heavy chain and secure that with a pick-proof padlock.
The secured computer then goes in the closet. Trixie, my Doberman, is admonished to sleep in front of the closet door and awaken me with her barks if anything untoward happens.
For a couple of weeks, nothing happened, though you can imagine how all my security preparations right before turning out the lights often made it had to get to sleep.
Then one night I awoke abruptly with a feeling of dread. I sat up. An eerie pulsing green light shone from beneath the closet door. Turing on the bedside lamp, I discovered Trixie, my fierce Doberman, backed into a corner, shaking and growling.
“We’re going to get to the bottom of this,” I said in my best loud, bravado voice.
The laptop had turned into some kind of swamp thing
I yanked open the closet door. The laptop was there, chains and lead blanket in place, but the whole package was quivering and giving off the green light. The light had a wet look to it, as if I were looking at some kind of swamp thing.
Steeling myself for an electrical shock or a Ghostbusters slime attack, I unlocked the padlock and took off the lead blanket. The pulsing green light was coming from the laptop screen. The screen was filled with an endless stream of numbers, like some kind of massive program dump.
Then I saw it. A Google logo flashed by on the screen. And then another. And another.
So the doom sayers were right! Google had taken over my computer and was on a data mining rampage.
I ran down the hall to my study where the DSL modem and the wi-fi router sat on a shelf. Yes! They were both pulsing with the same green light. The wi-fi antenna was red hot, too hot to touch. The wi-fi box was very warm to the touch. So was the DSL modem.
I unplugged the Verizon phone line from the modem. Everything still pulsed with the green light.
At dawn, no more green light
Trixie and I retreated to the bed, where we sat bolt upright, quivering. I thought of calling 911 and asking for help, but abandoned the idea when I rehearsed my conversation with the dispatcher.
Ultimately, the dog and I fell asleep in one another’s arms. When we awoke at dawn, the green glow was gone. I hooked the phone line to the DSL modem. Everything was normal.
I still go through the same routine every night with my laptop, lead blanket, chains, and closet. Many are the nights that I awaken when a frightened Trixie jumps onto the bed and burrows under the covers.
If I steal a glance at the closet door, there’s that same pulsing green light. Usually, I get back to sleep. The green light is always gone when I awake.
Don’t tell me there’s no reason to be paranoid about Google and its plans for world domination. I know better. I’ve seen the slimy green beast up close.