I was at work the day I found out about Johnny’s Code.
It was a Sunday afternoon and most of the residents of Sunny Oaks Retirement Home were sitting in front of the TV in the Lounge. The smell of chicken, gravy, and overcooked vegetables still pervaded the air as the sound of the barely audible TV competed with the combined choir of residents snoring. George, our oldest resident at 94, was sitting in his usual chair by the window, deeply absorbed in novel.
As a carer, it’s my job to make sure residents are safe and comfortable. As I worked my way across the room checking to make sure everyone was still breathing, George stood up, pointed to the TV and exclaimed, “Johnny’s code! Johnny’s code! I can’t believe it! Johnny’s Code!”
I looked over at the TV but all I could see was an advert for a new electric car, no Johnnys in sight and no code either. I approached George, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and coaxed him back into his chair.
“Is everything all right, George?” I asked as he remained transfixed with the TV, although it looked as though he was lost in some long and forgotten time, and had found a memory hidden in the deepest recesses of his mind, a memory sparked back to life.
“No, I’m not. That thing that was on the TV just now, did you see it?” George asked.
“Only the car advert. Why, George, what did you see?” I asked.
“It was a pattern, lots of black and white squares in a square pattern.” He explained.
“Like this?” I asked as I got my phone out and quickly googled QR Code.
“Yes!” He exclaimed animatedly, that’s exactly what I saw.
“What’s so special about a QR Code?” I asked.
“Maybe nothing. Depends what they do and how long they’ve been around. Don’t suppose you know when they were first invented, do you?” He asked.
“Sure,” I said, looking down at my phone at the Wikipedia entry. “1994,” then I explained what they were and how they were used.
“You’re never gonna believe this, but I’ve seen one of those before, back in 1970 something. I would often spend my afternoons sketching in the park. Back then I was somewhat of an artist, although now I can barely hold my toothbrush some days. Anyway, one day I was sitting in the park sketching a tree or bush or some part of nature and along comes this man and he sits on the bench directly across from me, no more than two metres away. I try to carry on with my drawing but the truth is I can’t stop stealing glances at this man across me.
“Nowadays you see it all the time but back then it wasn’t common to see a man covered in tattoos, but this guy had them all up his arms and it was as if he were proudly displaying them to me. I was about to pack up and go sit somewhere else when the man across from me asked if I’d like to draw him. Without hesitation I said yes and he spent the next 20 minutes sitting in front of me, then came and sat on the bench so that I could get the detail of his tattoo.
“I remember he had a tattoo of one of these QR Codes as part of the design along with the other tattoos on his arm, and afterwards he was rather particular about making sure I’d followed the patterns and drawn it correctly.”
“When was this?” I asked.
“It must’ve been the early 70s. Give me a minute.” After thinking he asked, “When was Lean on Me a hit?”
“1972,” Google told me and I told him.
“It was the summer of 1972. That was the year that I met and drew Johnny. Here, do me a favour. Call my daughter and ask her to bring my sketchbooks from 1972. They’re in a box in her attic.”
I hurriedly made it out of the lounge just as he’d finished with his instructions. I spoke with his daughter and when she told me that she wouldn’t be able to bring the sketchbooks until the weekend, I told her that her father wanted the sketchbooks urgently and had asked me to collect them if necessary. I know why I lied; I needed to see the QR Code for myself, be there to see where it would lead.
His daughter eventually agreed, I got someone to cover for me, and 30 minutes later I was sitting in my car with George’s sketchbooks in my lap. The temptation to look was strong, but I resisted. It wouldn’t be the right thing to do to George. This was his memory, his drawing, his code.
Once back at work, I went to find George but he was no longer in the Lounge. I found him in the garden, wrapped up well against the cold and sitting on a bench.
“Here you go,” I said as I sat down and passed him his sketchbooks.
“Here’s the one,” he replied instantaneously. He allowed the other sketchbooks to fall to the ground as he rifled through the one in his hands. Moments later, he thrust out the open sketchbook towards me, proudly displaying a sketch of a young man with a skinhead and a square jaw, wearing a white vest to better display his muscles. On his arm, he did indeed have a QR Code.
“Well I’ll be damned,” I said as I stared at the tattoo in disbelief.
“It is a QR Code, isn’t it?” George asked.
“It sure is,” I replied, “Let’s see where it takes us,” I said, taking out my phone, turning on the camera, and lining up the QR Code into sight.