Pay Me Now Or Pay Me Later

The son of a farmer has done a service–saving the kingdom from invaders, perhaps, or slaying a particularly recalcitrant dragon–and the king is grateful. The king insists that, as repayment for his heroic deed, the farmer’s son accept a gift, any gift he desires. Gold, jewels, land, wealth beyond imagining and of any description, will be bestowed upon the farmer’s son just for the asking. All the farmer’s son has to do is name that which he desires. Clever lad that he is–after all, he was able to save the imperiled kingdom–the farmer’s son insists on being given only a grain of rice.

“One grain of rice is not enough!” the king exclaims. “I insist that your reward be commensurate with the extraordinary service you have performed. Name something of more value.”

“As you wish, Highness,” the farmer’s son replies. “I just happen to have here a chessboard.” The farmer’s son produces a standard chessboard from under his tunic. “I ask only for one grain of rice to be placed on the first square of the chess board. I ask for twice as many grains of rice as on each subsequent square.”

“Could you say that again slowly?” the king asks politely.

“My pleasure, Eminence,” the farmer’s son replies. “One grain of rice on the first square, two grains of rice on the second square, four grains of rice on the third square, and so on. Each square on the chess board will have twice as many grains as the square before.”

The farmer’s son produces a stylus (apparently tunics were more commodious in those days) and scratches the following numbers in the sand.

1, 2, 4…

“It shall be done,” cries the king. Who comes to regret his hasty largesse when he understands the following simple arithmetic: An eight by eight chessboard has 64 squares. One grain of rice on the first square, two grains of rice on the second square, and four grains of rice on the third square leads inexorably to 9.2233720368548 X 10^18 or approximately 9,223,372,036,854,800,000 grains of rice on the 64th square. How much rice is 9,223,372,036,854,800,000 grains? 9,223,372,036,854,800,000 grains is more rice than ever has been or ever will be grown on the planet Earth. 9,223,372,036,854,800,000 grains of rice is more grains than there are stars in our galaxy. Lots more.

In short, a whole bunch of rice.

Bear with me gentle reader while I switch narrative gears and share the story a lovely, imaginative, clever lad filled with his mother’s analytical insight (she’s an engineer) and his father’s creative intuition (he works at an art gallery.) Alex is loved by his parents both of whom work outside the home. From an early age, Alex’s parents have exposed him to interactive screens. Alex is a sophisticated Minecraft affectionado; he sends texts and emails to his similarly well behaved friends; he uses the Internet to look up stuff for school and to view videos on YouTube.

Concerned that Alex is relying too much on screens and not enough on interacting with other actual humans, his parents introduce a zero tolerance policy for screens on Alex’s tenth birthday. Easy going, good kid that he is, Alex misses his email and texts and his interactive games. He asks his parents repeatedly why he can no longer play Minecraft or other video games. He incessantly asks his parents why he can’t have his devices. He is unbearable to live with, constantly asking for access to his games and electronic communication. He is disappointed and fussy.

For one whole day.

His parents, who have replaced the screens with swimming lessons, a church group, reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone out loud, building a fire pit in the backyard, and a series of weekend hikes with the family notice that within 24-hours, Alex doesn’t miss his screens in the least.

Just down the road from Alex lives Brandon. Brandon’s parents were in the same Lamaze class as Alex’s parents although Brandon was born one month to the day before his neighbor. Brandon was also playing murder simulator video games although he was not yet involved in the one in which the player gets extra points if, after having sex with a prostitute, he beats her up rather than pays her. Brandon’s parents also made their home a “screen free zone” replacing “World of Warcrack” with a cooking class, the Percy Jackson book series, yard work, a chemistry set, and a soccer league. When the change was instituted, Brandon was thoroughly upset. He whined and negotiated. He basically had a complete temper tantrum.

For two solid, unbearable days.

And then he was fine with his new interactive activities.

***

(Perhaps the more insightful of my gentle readers will discern where this narrative is going.)

Caleb is ten years and two months old. It will take him four days to get over the new “no screens” policy in his home. Darren in ten years and three months old. It may take him four days to “detox” from his reliance on screens.

1, 2, 4…

At some point, it becomes impossible to wean your kid from their reliance on murder simulators and the addictive stimulation of screens. For ten-year-olds, it takes a day or so to overcome screen dependence. For 17 year-olds it might take 9,223,372,036,854,800,000 days. Seventeen year-olds are generally less compliant and less reliant on the good opinion of their parents. By 17 years of age, children can typically drive cars, make their own arrangements, and use computers outside the home. They are also a lot snarkier and strong willed than they were at age 10. In short, it may be impossible to keep a 17-year-old away from playing “Halo” every day after school and all day on the weekends.

And don’t even try to tell me about playing “Grand Theft Auto” for just a few minutes each day. Ask anyone who has ever tried to use “just a little” cocaine if this is a viable plan.

You know the old expression, “pay me now or pay me later”?

Now is cheaper.