The founder of the company checked in while abroad, so I thought I’d mess with him in my email reply:
“Yeah, things have gotten pretty crazy since you’ve been out. Colin is convinced he created a clock app that not only tells time but tells time what to do. He tapped ‘speed up’ into an iPad and suddenly we all agreed it ‘felt’ like 5 pm. When we got home it was only 11 am! That’s been happening all week!”
Apparently, my iPad doesn’t know the word “shy.” Or, in its lingo, “the entity,” which sounds entirely more sci-fi. What if emotions WERE entities that expressed themselves through us like passing spirits? And would some happy ones moonlight as event facilitators to guarantee a good time?
This is me pretending to be productive on BART. I’m one of the few lucky Brahmin with a seat thanks to some deft maneuvering and the fact that nobody wanted to sit next to my seat mate, who’s playing some sword and sandal game on his iPhone. Like him, being seated affords me the use of both thumbs since I’m not using one to hang on for dear life, hoping my knees don’t buckle while careening under the bay.
At some point, BART evolved into a locomotive library. Everyone is reading (iPads, Kindles, an occasional paperback — The Hunger Games seems popular here). Those who aren’t reading are staring absently at their shoes. It reminds me of silent reading in junior high — awkward and fraught, with everyone scrupulously avoiding eye contact; except for the jackass next to me who’s beaming with some virtual victory he surely wants to share.
The suit in front of me just cracked his neck so aggressively it looked like he was trying to tear off his own head. Even Hunger Games was impressed. The iPhone dungeon master missed it. Ironic since he just did the same to pixelated paladin.
William S. Burroughs wrote that “language is a virus,” capturing the feeling we sometimes have of being possessed by, rather than possessing, language. (Of course, Burroughs also said that language was “from outer space,” but that was just crazy talk.)