I’ve never told anyone this story. I met a weird man once. In Madrid, when I was a Junior Year Abroad student. He was a little strange, somewhat creepy and had a thing for young boys. (Nothing happened, but it could have.) He was also some sort of an economist and wove tales of the future of money.
He talked about how we would one day have a microchip or tattoo that would carry all the financial information necessary for us to make purchases. Somehow it would be implanted in our wrist, and we would pass through a scanner that would read our data and make the necessary debit or credit. And, he went on to say that this would be the beginning of the End of Days, and this mark would constitute the Number of the Beast:
And that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name. Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is Six hundred threescore and six.
I thought “Wack-o” and left it at that. And then today this came in my in box from my gym:
Want a Gatorade while working out? You don’t have to go back to the locker room, fish out money, give it to the front desk and then carry the change around in your jock. No, now all you have to do is scan your fingerprint and will automatically be debited from your account.
I wonder where that guy is now.