Day sixteen. As I posted my most recent blog entry on Blogger, I became excited at the thought of sharing this one with my Facebook friends. I copied and pasted the link to my profile which prompted me to re-type the curvy, unbalanced words of the security Captcha. "Eye Onyou" was the encrypted message. The two words stood out for some reason. I didn't know what an "onyou" was, but every time I reread the turing test out loud, the words that left my tongue and slid through my lips sounded and felt familiar. I reread it slower and focused on every letter that was involved. E Y E ON Y O U.
My heart made one last heavy thump before it sprinted into a breakneck pace. The message wasn't two encrypted words like I originally thought; but three. Eye. On. You. Maybe it was the ominous feeling I received when I made the discovery. Maybe it was the squiggly, and slightly out-of-focus way the three simple words were crammed together that sent the hairs on the back of my neck to stand at a salute.
What did this mean? Was I over-thinking the whole thing? Captchas were simply tests to verify that a human was using a website, right? That's all. They were created to protect computer programs from hackers. The technology wasn't there to scare people or steal the identities of unaccomplished bloggers. They kept computers from infiltrating other computers; nothing more.
Completely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and Humans Apart. It was a test designed in the year 2000 by four men out of Carnegie Mellon University to be simple enough for humans to solve, but complex enough to keep computers from hacking into whatever piece of information was in need of safekeeping. A Captcha was supposedly there for my protection.
Yet, there I was - terrified by my revelation. But did I even unearth anything significant at all? Was it just a paranoid bit of narcissism? Who would want to watch me? Keep an eye on me? I hadn't done anything wrong and I wasn't involved in any shady business. Why would anyone want to monitor and follow me?
After coming up empty-handed in my search for an answer, it was time for me to go to work and try to focus on other things. As the day progressed, all I could think of, however, was what had happened to me that morning. My mind raced as the time dragged. I pondered the buts and the what-ifs as the day crawled by at an annoyingly slow rate. However, I didn't want to leave the comfort of work and go back to what I was afraid was waiting for me at home. I didn't want the day to end at all.
No matter how hard I tried, the clock still found a way to end the day and send me home. It was time for another blog. I could avoid the entire matter, but I had made a promise to myself. One post every day for one year. Period. I didn't want to write anything. I wanted to avoid the inevitable Captcha waiting for me on Mark Zuckerberg's social networking site, but because of my stubbornness to see things through, I had no choice.
I started typing with a blank mind. I was going through the motions while my thoughts were elsewhere. I knew this wouldn't be a very good post, but a promise was a promise. I could only hope that my next Captcha would be a pointless coupling of words. But what if it was another warning? A foresight into what was about to become of my life. What adventure awaited for me?
As I finished my third habitual read-through of my new post, my body's temperature began to drop as my brow grew damp with a layer of perspiration and my hands became clammy. Concentrating on what I had just written was futile and I couldn't get comfortable in the chair I was sitting. Being vigilant about my grammar and basic punctuation had suddenly seemed trivial and weightless.
I published my post to Blogger, but the excitement had just begun. The mouse's pointer slid up the computer's screen to the link in my browser's window. As I held the button down and left a blue, highlighted trail over the URL, my breathing became quick and shallow. My pupils dilated as I held down the Command key and followed it with the letter C.
I ran my fingers through my short, lazily styled hair as I waited for my browser to transfer the necessary information to get me to the Facebook homepage. My fingertips lost all sense of feeling as I navigated my mouse's pointer to the "What's On Your Mind?" window at the top of the page and my ears failed me of representing any sound as I pressed and held the Command key once again followed this time with the letter V.
As those three familiar progress bars danced with each other and grew and shrank with a rhythmic pulse, I stared blankly ahead as my twenty-four inch monitor illuminated my terrified and paralyzed expression.
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