As an IT journalist, it was normal for companies to send me their products for review. The makers of the new electronic device called “Nozia” sent it to me for review and writing, so I followed their instructions to connect it. The name “Nozial’ grabbed my attention because it seemed to derive from the word “nose.” After all, they said it would let me smell scents from virtual worlds.
I followed the steps to download the software that came with the device to my PC, then headed to its website. The main page had a group of links: a forest, a sea, and a flower farm, each of which took the visitor to a page showing a series of animated screens.
As you stroll through the forest, the site prompts you to click on each plant, and upon doing so, the Nozia device emits the distinct scent of that particular plant for you to experience. I was amazed by how real the smell was.
The same was true with the sea page, although it seemed to me that it was just to demonstrate the device’s capabilities to produce “nasty” smells.
However, the flower farm page amazed me with its variety of so many colorful flowers, and I enjoyed the smell of many of them. However, as I passed by a group of purple flowers, I felt a severe itch that lasted for a few seconds before it went away.
In short, the experience was wonderful, and the idea for the device was creative. I finished my review, closed those sites, and started to gather my thoughts to write the article, but I was surprised when the colleague sitting next to me asked, “What’s wrong with you, Waleed? You’re talking so fast and mentioning things that don’t seem connected. You’re talking about flowers, fish, two cartons of milk, pictures, pages, and dozens of other things. Honestly, you seem abnormal. What happened?” I was surprised by his question. It’s true that I was thinking about these things in my mind, but I didn’t remember that I said anything about them. I answered, “What do you mean? I wasn’t even talking.” My colleague smiled and left me.
Five minutes later, other colleagues protested, confirming the first one’s claims. “Guys, believe me, I didn’t talk to any of you.” I left the room and went to another one, but the criticism there was just as merciless as it had been in the previous one.
My anxiety and headache intensified, prompting me to seek refuge with my friends in the computer department room. One of them, laughing, remarked, “You look, my friend, like a computer infected with a virus and started sending emails without its owner’s knowledge.” At that point, part of my mind started to work in a normal way. My colleague then asked, “Who is this “Nozia” that you are cursing?” I ran out. I made my way to my office, repeating the name “Nozia.” Nozia?
I started to search online for the word “Nozia,” and I was utterly shocked, as there were very recent news reports talking about an outbreak of a new virus called “Pollen.Worm,” the first virus designed to infect computers and humans at the same time. I immediately noticed the word “Pollen” in the name of that virus, and as you know, pollens are responsible for many allergic reactions. At this point, I remembered the itching that I felt in my nose when I smelled the purple flowers from the “Nozia” device.
I kept reading the news until I reached the conclusion that there was a wide investigation into a scandal linking this virus to the “Nozia” device, which some cybercriminals exploited to spread “Pollen.Worm” among people.
I found out that the virus targets humans by infiltrating the nose with a specific scent. This scent triggers nerve endings within the nose, prompting the brain’s memory section to transfer its contents to the speech control section. Consequently, the victim starts uttering words from their memory without their conscious control.
The shock came when I discovered that there is no treatment for this condition yet, pending the formation of a committee that includes experts from computer anti-virus companies, cyber security experts, Interpol, and the World Health Organization (WHO).
I noticed at that stage that everyone in the room had gathered around me, shouting, “Enough, Waleed, you’ve annoyed us with your random talk; stop or we’ll report you to the editor-in-chief.” I did not respond because my tongue was already speaking on its own.
I swiftly left them, dropped off the newspaper, and headed home. I arrived at my residential area and ran through a dark, shortcut corridor to get there quickly. There was a surprise waiting for me. A muscular man intercepted me with the intention of robbing me, and although I did not argue with him, he grabbed me and started shaking me violently, shouting, “What are you saying? Why don’t you speak English? I will teach you a lesson you will never forget.” In preparation for the end of my journey in this world, I closed my eyes and shouted, “But I did not say anything.”
I opened my eyes to the sound of my wife shaking me. “Waleed, what’s wrong? Was you dreaming?”. You cannot imagine how pleased I was when I realized that everything that had happened was just a nightmare and that my wife had saved me from that monster and the myth of the imaginary “Nozia” virus.
When she noticed my grateful smile, she said, “Get up, love, so you don’t be late for work anymore; it seems that the computer articles have started to negatively affect you.” As she was leaving the room, she mentioned, “By the way, the newspaper’s secretary called to inform you about the arrival of a package from a company; I believe it is named “Nozia.”
What???
NOOOOOOOO!
* This article was first published on May 23, 2002, 22 years ago. I wrote this article in Arabic in my weekly IT section in Asharq Al-Aawsat newspaper in London when I used to work there.
The image was created using DALL-E 3
