
I built a machine for my dead grandmother. It was a room sized mood organ. She could sit in a comfortable chair in front of a large TV screen surrounded by speakers. There were dozens of brightly colored buttons on a control panel with corresponding words on them
- remorse
- joy
- apathy
- rage
- empathy
- absurdity
- peace
Push a button and the subject would see images, video, sound, music, I also incorporated smell, temperature and of course brain wave technology. Grandma just kept mashing a faded gray button labeled REGRET. One day she had enough and smashed the whole machine into bits. Now I spend most of my time bailing her out of jail. It seems that grandma loves nothing more than to drink a couple of sloe gin fizzes and flash young Latino boys on the city bus.