Who I am, you wonder? Ask the lady. She is on to me. She has even named me: Pumuckl. I never heard that name before. That is why I paid attention when she shared her thought of who I might be with her daughter:
"Do you remember Pumuckl, the little goblin in one of your children books?"
“You mean the one who lived in a carpenter’s workshop and played mischievous games with the owner, hiding or misplacing tools?" Her offspring made sure she understood.
"Exactly him! Sometimes I imagine that Pumuckl lives in our computer and uses his invisibility to screw up code or the functioning of the device. I envision him being a tiny switch board operator that randomly alters commands."
“Interesting idea!” Her daughter’s smile included wide-open blue eyes that exuded nothing but complete acceptance, even far-out ideas of her Mom.
I like this name, Pumuckl. Sounds exotic, different, just like me.
Who I really am? Well, the lady is not so far off. My friends and I live in all kind of electronic and technical devices. We have no limited lifetimes as devices do. We jump hosts the minute we get bored or need to support one another. Our life is pure fun. We were created together with the first technical innovation on planet earth. We are indeed invisible to the human eye, have no shape or form, and feed off of the energy that humans exhale in the aggravation of dealing with our game.
Most of the time I leave the lady alone. It is not fun to play with her. She will leave the device alone as soon as she realizes that she won’t be able to fix the stumbling blocks I created for her. She waits for reinforcements in the form of her husband. That’s when I perk up again. His sigh of slight annoyance accompanied by: "What’s wrong now?" is music in my ears. I get ready for the catch-me-if-you-can game I play for life.
The husband’s fingers anticipate lots of my moves, yet the harshness with which they strike the keys has me jump in the most ingenious fashion. My screams of delight combined with the husband’s exhaled cloud of dark energy when his attempts to beat me fail, attract my friends. That’s when the party really starts and we have a blast.
On other occasions, the lady turned to her daughter for help. I am a little intimidated by the kid. Her fingers barely touch the keyboard. They have the speed and intensity of drumsticks in the hand of a passionate musician. Her fingers would be able to outsmart my split-second moves. Yet to this day, I could rely on her teenage impatience to set in just when I was willing to concede to her quick thinking. Fingers that assault devices with exasperated keyboard hammering fuel my erratic hip hop dance. Verbal abuse is the catalyst to my moves.
A couple of times, the lady suggested treating the keyboard like a stubborn child with gentle understanding and sweet talk. Of course, her family doesn’t take her seriously. As I said, the lady has an inkling of how we operate. However, as long as she doesn’t trust her intuition, my friends and I are in no danger of being found out.
Gentleness is the secret to immobilizing us. Once applied, we have to use all of our will power not to forget our purpose. Things worsen for us when the user applauds the computer’s effortless running. Applause paralyzes us. All we can do is cry out to friends for assistance. When they jump in, they luckily land on a code that messes things up again. Our devilish game is restored.
So I am not worried. As long as humans treat their electronics without appropriate respect, my friends and I will have the best playground in the world. Brace yourself, here we come, the Pumuckls of the 21st century!
About the author
Anja Kerstin Kuentzel,
Advanced Grief Recovery Method specialist, nature lover, photographer, and bilingual wordsmith combines her passions to offer a different perspective on life that might inspire, raise awareness or even heal.