This year has been full of ultra-high-end gaming laptops. Examining machines like Gigabyte Aorus 17X YD is fascinating to say the least, but even though I like to tinker with them, I dare not delve into any laptop reviews…for fear of what I might become.
Since I tested the last one, I have been carrying a huge and unbearable weight; I am sure that for my fragile mortal mind, a large amount of knowledge is unintentional. Let’s start from the beginning, so that you may understand the confusion of my burden and maybe help me through the difficulties.
It was June, midsummer, and the last place I wanted to go was to test gaming laptops indoors. When the sun finally broke through the clouds in Britain, I would rather make the most of it.
So I was in the office, curled up at my desk, trying to get this machine to be tested as soon as possible, so that I could start playing in the wheat fields and other fields again.
There are no other people in the office, only me, this strangely shaped laptop, and all the strange gluttons. I remember starting some benchmark software and recording the strange whirring noises made by the cooling system. We are accustomed to knowing how nuisance a gaming laptop is to other people, for example, if you want to pass its pace on public transportation.
Unlike many high-end laptops I have tested, it doesn’t sound like a jet engine. It is more like a low, low, and fluctuating hum. The noise is not very loud. “Great,” I thought, “This is another plus point for the review.” Finally I packed the machine in the cabinet, locked everything, and prepared to go home.
Throughout the night, I wandered in the nearby woodland, watching the mist rising from the ground, and thinking about how to express my comments. It wasn’t until I watched the setting sun go down, and when I sat on a low-hanging tree branch thinking about the noise of the machine, I didn’t realize a disturbing feeling. In trying to find words that describe the sound that is whistling in my head now, I found that I had heard it somewhere before—perhaps in a dream or in a nightmare.
At this moment, a light flashed by, scaring me to stand up. The sudden light, pure red, instantly burned the entire sky. Above me, although I cannot fully explain why until today, the outline of a huge rectangular object is the only thing that is not touched by light. It is as if light itself bends around it in some way, like a huge void in the structure of the universe.
Then there is noise. It was the same as it came from the laptop earlier that day, except now it is around me, flourishing on the branches of the forest. The ominous, fluctuating hum—like primordial electricity, mixed with the crazy roar of some invisible sky predator.
Soon, the scene returned to reality, back to the daily appearance of the hazy forest line around me. And I was there, shivering in the weird silence of the ancient woodland.
The night began to blur from there. I remember when I returned to work the next day, I found that the laptop I tested the day before was not in the cabinet, even though it was locked all night. “There is no sign of breaking in,” the policeman concluded, before evading many of my questions.
Since then, strange things have been happening to me. I seem to know things I shouldn’t know. Regarding technical matters, things that make little sense to me. It’s as if I have blueprints in my mind for fantastic and otherworldly mechanisms. But to the best of my ability, I can’t seem to read them.
I still believe that the laptop is involved in some way; maybe it is part of a high-tech robbery, or a relic from a distant world. However, I want to know if I am really testing it, or if I am the person being tested.
No matter what happened, I still can’t use words to explain how shocking and exciting it was in the red light of that ancient forest that night.
Now, when I am about to test my next review machine, the Alienware gaming laptop, I am more and more worried. I want to know the strange and faint light outside the window. It seems to be welcoming me home, as if I was soon ready to enter the distant space, I now understand that I have always belonged there.