Light Switch

Blank stares.

“So when it’s up, it’s ON?”

“Mom, Dad, it couldn’t be simpler. It says, ON.” He flicked the brand new switch on the wall and the lights snapped on. “Up is ON. Flip this down and the lights turn off.”

 “How can we tell if the switch is up or down in the dark?” Dad scoffed.

“I’ll write the steps and tape them up,” mom said helpfully.

“Dad, its two settings. ON or OFF. It’s a switch.”

“I might be too complicated for your father, hon. Maybe it’s just for young people,” she said and lit a candle.

Fighting Machine

I glare at the wall and wait for my machine to respond.

It whirs. Clicks. Thumps a few times. It should’ve done something by now.

I wait. Flick a switch. Tap the keys. Once more.

The seconds crawl into minutes on the wall. I breathe. The machine whirs and thumps and whirs and clicks. On the outside, I am pure patience.

On the inside, I’m in a fighting rage. I’ve already smashed the machine against the wall a thousand times.

On the outside, I wait.

They assured me the machine would free up my time. Instead, I’ve become its slave.

I See

I see a future where technology is so immersive, we get laser eye surgery for real-time, heads-up displays and interactive content. Imagine, pulling up a map for directions that just floats in front of you, or sitting to chat with a long-distance loved one.

The surgery’s offered free by your cable and internet provider. Open a free account and they’ll throw in the first year of service too. Of course, when the promotional period ends, they’ll raise the price, month after month after month. If you can’t pay, they simply freeze your account until you can.

But now, you’re blind.