Logged on

 Ernesto woke to the hum. Not an audible one, but a felt one. A vibration in the mattress spring that matched the charging cycle of the devices on his nightstand. His Apple Watch buzzed a gentle greeting: Good morning, Ernesto. 6:02. 32° and cloudy. You averaged 4hrs 22m of screen time yesterday. Up 12% from last week.

He smiled. Progress.


He swung his legs out of bed and immediately checked his phone. Seventeen messages. Three missed calls from a number he didn't recognize. A breaking news alert. Two likes on a photo he'd posted at 2 a.m. He shuffled to the bathroom, phone in hand, reading a thread about a basketball trade while he brushed his teeth. The toothpaste foam gathered at the corners of his mouth. He didn't notice.


At breakfast, his girlfriend, Michelle, placed a plate of eggs in front of him. "Big meeting today," she said.

He nodded, eyes on his tablet, where he was scrolling through a presentation deck. "Mm-hmm."

The eggs cooled. He didn't notice.


On the train to work, he held his phone in one hand and his watch was feeding him headlines directly to his wrist. A news alert buzzed. A weather alert buzzed. A calendar reminder buzzed. A notification that his favorite team had just posted a video buzzed. His left arm vibrated constantly, a living thing humming against his skin. He felt naked without the buzz. If it stopped for more than ten minutes, he'd lift his wrist just to make sure it was still working.


The view from the train window was beautiful this time of year, the hills were green, the reservoir sparkled. Ernesto saw it reflected dimly in the black mirror of his screen. It was too small, that reflection. He pulled out his tablet to get a better view of the screen, missing the hills entirely.


At work, he was a ghost in the machine. He attended a meeting via a screen, his face a floating thumbnail among twelve others. He took notes on his laptop. He responded to Slack messages on his watch while walking to get coffee. He ate lunch over his keyboard, watching a YouTube video about a new phone he was thinking of buying, using his current phone to do it. The irony was lost on him.


By evening, his eyes ached. A dull, dry throb behind his pupils. The optometrist had called it "digital eye strain." Ernesto called it Tuesday. He sat on the couch, Michelle next to him, both of them bathed in the blue glow of their respective screens. A show was playing on the television, but neither of them were watching. Ernesto was deep in a Reddit thread about the plot holes in the show they weren't watching.


"Ernesto," Michelle said.

He didn't hear her. He was reading a comment about the main character's motivation.

"Ernesto."

He grunted. His thumb kept scrolling.

She reached over and gently placed her hand on his phone screen, covering the pixels.

He blinked. Looked up. Her face was close. He could see the tiny lines at the corners of her eyes. He realized he hadn't really looked at her face in days. Weeks, maybe.

"What?" he said, a little defensively. His thumb was still trying to scroll, pressing against the warm skin of her palm.

"You're buzzing," she said softly.


And he realized she was right. His watch was buzzing with a new notification. His phone was buzzing in her hand. The tablet on the coffee table flickered with a breaking news banner. He was a hive of activity. A busy, buzzing, glowing hub. Consumed. He looked at her hand on his screen. It was warm. Real. It didn't need to be charged.

For a moment, the hum stopped.

Then his watch buzzed again, a sharp little tap on his wrist. Breaking: Battery Low at 10%.

He looked at the notification. Then he looked at Michelle's patient, waiting eyes.

He didn't know which one to answer first.


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