Close encounters in the twilight zone

According to a 2019 Smithsonian magazine article, screenwriter and television producer Rod Serling of “The Twilight Zone” fame, borrowed the term Twilight Zone from the U.S. military. Apparently, it refers to the moment a plane comes down and cannot view the horizon. The article went on to state that the anthology “spoke to his mission for the show: to be able to tell bold stories about the human conditions on screen by obscuring the view somehow.”

Though not quite so dramatic as Serling’s offerings, I spent 24-hours in the twilight zone recently and I propose that it’s the view of common sense which is being obscured nowadays. There’s also the possibility that I’m just getting old and don’t like change.

Arriving for an appointment recently at a location which shall remain nameless, I had my first experience with a temperature scanner kiosk. This is probably no big deal for many of our readers and, to be honest, I probably would have gone-along to get-along to do what I was there to do, were it not for the ensuing contentious dialogue regarding a face mask.

Immediately upon coming into the kiosk’s line of sight, I was ordered by a faceless voice to put on a mask. Since I don’t do face masks, I ignored the request. Afterall, I had an appointment and expected that I would soon be greeted by a human and this mask thing would be dealt with. However, the longer I stood there without complying, the more insistent and hostile the voice became. I began glancing around wondering if someone was actually engaging in this exchange through a video monitor from an undisclosed location in the building.

Intermittently, the talking screen ordered me to step “closer” to take my temperature. I complied but after multiple failed attempts, I surmised it refused to register my temperature because I wasn’t wearing a face mask. So, we’re being punitive now, I thought to myself.

The verbal barrage continued for a good five-plus minutes as this battle of the wills raged on. I could tell I had made an enemy and contemplated just how far the machine would go to force me into a mask - electric shock perhaps?

I was so engrossed in standing my ground in my version of “my body, my choice,” I was oblivious to the woman sitting in the lobby watching this farce play out. I looked over at her, almost embarrassed, but felt vindicated when she calmly said, “Don’t you just want to punch it? That’s what I’d like to do.”

I could tell from her manner, she didn’t have the will left to fight this machine, so now I was in it for Everyman, or in this case Everywoman.

As to how this side show ended, a human showed up - one who knows that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. We negotiated mask terms we could both live with and I was able to accomplish what I came for.

When I told a friend about my dust-up with the kiosk, she said it reminded her of the Chinese robot dogs. According to the publication, The Financial Times, “The robot dog is about the size of a terrier and barks orders to residents: stay inside, wash your hands, check your temperature. On some nights, when city officials have ordered mandatory midnight Covid testing, Preserved Egg – the name is reference to the famous Chinese dish – marches down apartment corridors, rousing inhabitants and calling them downstairs for throat swabs.”

So, my fellow Americans, as we inch closer to total acceptance of dictatorial squawking boxes and robot dogs, perhaps it’s time to answer Rod Serling’s question, “Do you live here in this country? In this world? Or do you live instead…in the Twilight Zone?”

The column represents the thoughts and opinions of Connie Clements. Opinion columns are NOT the opinion of the Navasota Examiner.

Clements is a freelance reporter for the Navasota Examiner and an award-winning columnist.