iBelieve

Last August, I finally caved. I bought a Macbook Pro.

To be clear, I don’t identify as a Mac person. I opted for the Pro because I got a student discount (though other brands were still cheaper, I can’t pass up a bargain) and Macs were recommended by my esteemed grad program. Essentially, I bought into the market tactics that would make me just like everyone else.

10 months later, I’ve grown to love my Mac, and I was worried to death when my baby came down with a broken trackpad. I couldn’t click on anything, so I quickly made my first appointment at the genius bar for the next morning.

I headed down to the new Apple store near Lincoln center and down to the long line of techno-elites. The entire experience felt slightly magical: Apple sent me a reminder email! My name appeared on the screen when it was my turn! I got my own barstool! And my own Genuis! And he was kind of cute! The lilt in his voice indicated that yes, he’d hit the jackpot of the job world. “Why yes, I do work at Disneyland for the techno-set,” I could hear him say. He was pleasant, but something about the way he interacted with me felt a bit contrived. The personalized attention, the eye contact and excessive use of my name. It felt good, but also a little creepy. I’m sure he was paid to seem like he really cared. It was kind of  like therapy.

Then my Genius pulled out a bottle of spray to clean my screen – the special Apple Genius edition.

Perhaps I could find all my cleaning products here. Special wipes for the table where I place my prized macbook. Could I find a MacSwiffer too?

I see no reason to leave. There was probably Vitamin water and Red Bull somewhere in the back, maybe even a mac elixer that would increase my seratonian receptors. I was finally starting to get it. This was a not a computer but a lifestyle. I wondered if this is what it feels like to be a Scientologist.

I’m sure all the attractive Geniuses will copulate, producing second generation geniuses who will possess the familiar apple logo in place of their hearts. And Justin Bieber hair. They will learn to usepad before a pen, set up playdates over gchat, and buy the latest laptop fully loaded with all the books they need at the beginning of each school year. They’ll be way cooler than me.

My Genius promised to have my problem solved (for free to boot) in about an hour. The streamlined, punctual way of doing business felt a little like heaven, or maybe just Japan. It was then that I should’ve fallen in love, but I didn’t. It all felt little too sterile.  A little too clean. A little too contrived to make me feel powerful and in control every time laid eyes on the sparse landscape of an apple.  A little too perfect.  Tech savvy is the new religion.

When my computer was fixed, I walked down to the consistently-delayed train, took in the sour stench of the subway, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Attractive people, many of ambgiuos sexuality and gener