It’s my transfer day today.
I wish it wasn’t, but there’s nothing I can do about it. The tides of time push on, and there’s no going back. I used to mock my Granddad for moaning about his transfer from black and white to colour. And mock my Dad for his transfer from 2d to 3d.
My life is about to be upscaled, whether I like it or not. It’s what we all want apparently. I’m going from standard definition to ultra high definition. It’s the done thing. No-one seems to think further ahead than that. As soon as we’re all converted, it’ll be time to start again, this time in mega-super high definition.
Sure, they say, there are some odd side-effects, but in the main, it’s for the better. No-one wants their life to be in standard definition anymore. So, they’re going to go through it, moment by moment, to reframe it. Because, while SD life is narrower, UHD life is squatter.
I’ve seen some of the tests.
They’ve literally cut off my Granny’s head.
“We’ll be sensitive,” they say. “We’ll maintain the spirit of your original choices.”
But it’s all automated. No-one checks it. And now, whenever I think about her, my Granny will have no head.
Twas ever thus.
I won’t be able to keep a copy of my life in SD.
Why would I? Who wants to see it in a lesser resolution?
Well, maybe I do, so I can see my Granny with a head.
I wouldn’t mind so much, but I’ve just had a letter from the Nostalgia Bureau, informing me that I have been selected for a reboot. I will be recast in my own life, and bought bang up to date for a modern audience, with a grittier, more realistic tone.
And this, just months after my unnecessary sequel.