same day test - a
study of the hypertext
by Robert Geise
"It's Gabrielle on the phone. I'm surprised. I haven't heard from
her for months. And that time we didn't exactly part on speaking terms."
--Tom. I'm positive. You'd better get a test.
"I don't know what she means. Positive about what?"
--HIV, you fucking idiot. I had it while we were still screwing. Go to the
Infirmary. You can get a test there.
So begins same day test by Gavin Inglis. It is at once a
hypertext, a story of choices and consequences, and statement of "personal
mortality" (qtd from Inglis' summary of same day test).
same day test links from
Bareword.com, Inglis' literary web site. Beneath the title
"Bareword," the phrase "It was a dark and stormy night"
lies unobtrusively. This loaded promise may be an early clue to readers in
terms of expectation. The "dark and stormy night" opening is utterly
cliché, but perhaps that is Inglis' point. It is as if he were saying,
"There is nothing groundbreaking here, no earth-shattering revelation nor
timeless classic--just some things I have to say, as I think they should be
said and as well as I can say them for now." (Both the works currently on
Bareword.com, in fact, boast version numbers; same day test is version
1.0) The effect is twofold: he lowers the expectation of the reader, and
simultaneously absolves himself of stringent criticism. Some aspects of same
day test can be viewed through these rose-colored glasses; others do not
fair so well and beg further scrutiny. This paper will assess how effectively
Inglis uses the medium of hypertext and if he convincingly conveys what a
person might feel while waiting for the results of an HIV test.
A first-person narrative written in present tense, same day test
has a deceptively basic format that camouflages some very subtle hypertextual
trickery. Its appearance is simplistic: basic black text on a white background
in the browser's default font. Although best viewed in a full-screen browser,
the page justifies at practically any size so that only vertical scrolling is
necessary. The Bareword banner appears atop each page. At first an annoying
reminder, a somewhat invasive advertisement, the banner quickly fades into the
background as it is uniform on each page. Later, it becomes an easy way for the
reader to begin again if the story repeats or if he wants to try a different
path.
The main page for same day test centers the title and credits
along with links to the story, one text and one graphic, and a text link to HIV
and AIDS resources. That link, along with the large hypodermic needle in the
center of the screen, alerts the reader rather blatantly as to the content of the
story. Although Inglis' intent for including the resources link up front is
noble, it is arguable whether it is prudent. Some readers surely balk instantly
at any HIV or AIDS reference and leave immediately from this page. These are
the very people Inglis might wish to reach with his work. Whether any of those
readers might continue after reading the first page, which also clearly states
the HIV plot, is difficult to say. It might not be quite so easy to leave a
story once it is begun, rather than leaving one never even started.
It is worth noting that the HIV and AIDS resources page is
disappointing in mechanics and utility. It could have been filled with dozens
of links to sources of information of HIV and AIDS around the world. Instead,
there are four links--one of which is faulty--to British organizations, not
helpful to other continents or even countries. In a medium as boundless as
hypertext, this page surely could have transcended the basics of a pamphlet.
same day test is navigated
through obvious links at the bottom of each page. The reader makes a decision
to choose one of two paths. The first page has Tom discovering that he was
exposed to HIV infection from a former girlfriend, Gabrielle. From there, the
reader can choose "Gabrielle," which gives a bit of background on
their relationship, or "Phone Infirmary," where Tom sets up his
appointment to be tested. The double links are used consistently, though not
completely, and serve two purposes, one obvious and one unspoken. At first glance,
they give the reader control over which path to take: "Go" or
"Don't Go" to the clinic; "Museum" or "Pub" while
waiting for the test. However, they also illustrate a certain dichotomy
observed, felt by HIV/AIDS patients: before HIV and after HIV.
Although the result of Tom's test is not known until the end of the hypertext,
his options throughout the story exemplify the duality of one's way of thinking
before infection, and then after infection. As Tom is stuck in limbo until his
test result, both choices are constantly visible and troublesome.
Each page displays a small graphic and a timestamp above the text. The
graphics change quite logically according to Tom's path chosen by the reader.
The opening page shows a telephone. The pages on which he remembers Gabrielle
or another girlfriend, a pair of female legs with fishnet stockings and
stiletto-heeled boots appears. Any scenes in the hospital have a smaller
version of the syringe displayed on the title page.
The graphics are most efficiently utilized in one string of pages that
might be called "Another" during which the reader is given the option
to leave a pub to get Tom's test result (or move to another location) or have
another beer. Each beer Tom consumes appears as an empty glass, next to a fresh
one. Eventually, if followed to the end, seven empties and one full glass of
beer line the top of the page. Tom's narrative is affected appropriately:
Check it out,
fuck in a cake, big pool
Sidney Poitier
BUT you must see that NEVER during that occasion were
hang on on
I know I'm not making what's the time? She said four thirty or five actually I
can't remember
day of the triffids there was a thing about a power place I'm having trouble
holding on to my ben
Less effective is the use of a non-graphic, a plain white gif called
"null" that appears only a few times, on pages that have mostly
emotional content. During other times of the day when Tom has lunch or visits a
museum, he makes much more significant self-discoveries than at these
"null" times, lessening the impact of nothingness.
It is easy to overlook devices that separate same day test
from other short stories told in HTML with little or no creativity in
formatting. As the reader follows the course of Tom's day chronologically, he
might pay little or no attention at all to the timestamp. However, the pages
themselves are not indelibly printed with set times. In order to ensure a
cohesive timeline through the many storylines capable of being interconnected, same
day test keeps track of the story's clock, and self-consciously timestamps
each page later and later with a new, adjusted time in context. Every page
seems to have a certain chronological value, which will add a certain amount of
time to the clock within the story. This maintains the integrity of a storyline
that is on a schedule. If the protagonist arrives at the hospital too late, he
will not get his test results. That said, it does not appear that taking
different paths at different times will actually affect the outcome; the
protagonist's tardiness depends on the actual pages visited, not on the
timeline itself.
In addition, to the observant reader, each rereading becomes fresh and
personalized. It is a touch of understated style that Inglis gave the hypertext
when he conceived and designed same day test. It helps to balance out
"crass and over-simplistic" elements Inglis admits to in Bareword's
"About the Work."
The randomly generated ending makes the journey worth a bit of
bumpiness as well. More than likely, the first time the reader works his way to
the end of the piece, he will be given a test result that reads
"NEGATIVE." But not necessarily. During a trial-and-error test of the
ending page, the HIV- result came up 25 of 30 times, about 83%. That means a
"POSITIVE" result will occur about one in five times, which the
reader expects is a different matter. Some readers might instantly assume a
positive result from the beginning, as they may feel any story of HIV worthy of
merit would inform readers what it would feel like when first learning their
HIV+ status. Optimistic readers might assume, from the soul-searching and
self-deprecating the protagonist does, that he will be blessed with a negative
result by the end. Pessimistic readers in contrast may view the entire exercise
as futile and feel a positive result is expected, even warranted. Furthermore,
any reader trying a different path may not expect a change in the result during
another go-around. Perhaps what makes the piece's "climax"--in
Aristotelian terms--effective is its naked, indiscriminate revelation,
comparable to the feeling of getting an HIV test result from a doctor in
reality. Interestingly, the result page is formatted to resemble an actual
printout from a doctor or laboratory. It appears generated by an antiquated
WordPerfect program, or printed on a dot matrix or teletype printer. This has
the effect of contrasting the newness of getting an HIV test result with the
oldness of outdated office equipment. Again, duality rules.
The story of same day test is clearly linear, but it also
consists of several different storylines that branch and connect at different
points to one another. The four branches might be labeled as such: Work;
Museum; Pub; Outside. The transitions are mostly smooth between storylines, but
not completely. Work blends nicely into Outside in the "afternoon"
timeframe before working its way to the result page. However, Museum clumsily
links to Work, after Tom clearly indicates he has no wish to maintain his daily
routine. Pub links to Museum and Outside in several places; although mostly
logical, some moves do not take into account Tom's level of intoxication.
As a character, Tom spends a fair amount of time noticing detail that
he might ordinarily overlook or find commonplace. As Tom enters the hospital,
he observes:
The waiting
room has blue walls. Light blue. There are partitions covered in the same paper
but it's peeled off the back of the one I'm sitting behind. They're new chairs,
with light blue cushioning which doesn't quite match the walls.
("Go")
Inglis lets Tom's observations speak for themselves through most of
the work.
Sometimes they allow Tom great revelation about his current state of
mind. Here, Tom finds himself strolling in his old neighborhood:
This place does
make me feel fine. It's the familiarity. Greasy chips in brown sauce. Groups of
sleeping dodgems. Railings with flaky paint. Discarded Irn Bru cans. The sound
of the sea massages my head. I'm glad I came here. Jill and I always used
condoms. And the sex was no worse for it. ("Catch a bus")
The passage allows Tom to attempt a visit to his former girlfriend,
which is ultimately unsuccessful:
I find the
street and then I find number 16 and her name's on the buzzer, J.Cooper. I'll
be able to go through with this as long as I don't think too hard so I press
the button and hear the low noise which means the buzzer is going upstairs. I
wait. ("Jill")
It is a waiting game he has played all day: waiting for another pint,
waiting for lunch break at work, waiting for his ex-girlfriend, waiting for his
test result. Metaphor is still present if he avoids Jill completely and goes to
"The sea": "Down at the water's edge, I watch the waves. No
obvious signs of sewage or radioactive chemicals." Tom might think the
same thing now if he saw Gabrielle in terms of her HIV status, except that he
now knows she may have infected him.
Other times of the day, Inglis allows Tom to be more literal. When he
opts to skip work for mindless play but frets over his boss's reaction
tomorrow, he thinks:
Not (showing
up) will make things worse tomorrow but either a) I will know I'm positive and
it won't matter any more or b) I will know I'm negative and his wrath will seem
very insignificant beside what I've avoided. ("Don't go to work")
Occasionally, though, he slips into cliché and mundanity. In
"Museum" after walking around a bit, Tom thinks, "Perhaps I
should be careful about taking God's name in vain. I feel a lot closer to him
than I did yesterday." Other times, he excuses such display with witty
banter:
Sitting here in the harmonious face of Nature, it's difficult to
believe in the virus which may be voyaging through my system. But not difficult
enough. Because my cares are not falling away. I'm feeling twitchy and removed
from other people. I have the urge to throw stones at them.
("Outside")
This passage is also one of the few times Tom illustrates his anger
rather than fear or frustration, even if it is done in a jocular way. Perhaps
Tom's personal journey is summed up best by this bit, reached directly from the
"Outside" text quoted above:
One of the new
galleries depicts artifacts in British life since 1850. The first thing that
catches my eye is a white and pink plaque. PREPARE TO MEET THY GOD it says. A
message from 1860. Fucking cheers. ("Ground floor")
As mentioned briefly before, Tom does not always get his test result.
Early on he can choose not to go for the test or even call the hospital:
"...in a way, knowing you have a terminal disease is like already being
dead." ("Don't go") If he waits too long at work or stays at the
pub too long as well, he arrives too late to get the result. The tone is quite
different, however: "It's going to be a long night." ("Wait til
the end") The frustrated but ultimately optimistic implication of trying
and failing to get the result seems a genuine display of the growth within the
character of Tom, earned by self-reflection through his long, arduous day.
In some circles, it would be easy here to dismiss Inglis' work as
maudlin or dated. HIV/AIDS became prevalent in the gay community so long ago
that explorations of connected feelings and emotions are commonplace in Media
produced by the enclave. Nevertheless, same day test is finally not
about breaking new ground, it is about turning over soil to realize that which
might have otherwise lain dormant in oneself. It combines several smart gadgets
with some basic hypertextual premises and turns a man's emotional day into a
virtual diary of his thoughts and feelings. Perhaps this is the reason we are
not allowed to know Tom's reaction to his same day test: the result
cannot change the journey, nor does it devalue the experience.
Works Cited
Ingils, Gavin. same
day test. 22 March 2005. <http://www.bareword.com/sdt>.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons
License.
Table
of Contents | Word Circuits
Academic year 2008/2009
© a.r.e.a./Dr.Vicente Forés López
© Marc Palazón Radford
marcpa@alumni.uv.es
Universitat de València Press