Josh moved a small amount of his crypto portfolio from his cold storage to his online wallet. He had been waiting for the release of the new high-tech, AR glasses, and now they were within reach, for only a few coins. The transaction went through smoothly, and his membership included expedited delivery, which he was sure meant they were boxing it up as he logged off, making sure it would land on his porch tomorrow.
“Alexa, turn on living room lights.”
Sun streamed into the room, which triggered his sensors to start playing music from the integrated sound system. Normally everything was programmed for a regular schedule, but Josh had taken a few days off, and had to make sure his systems knew he was home now.
“Alexa, status.”
It was a custom routine, routed through custom filters.
“Systems… Online.”
“Connection… 2… gigs.” It was fast for now, but Josh was sure in a few years it would feel like a slog.
“Temperature… 75… degrees… inside. 86… degrees… outside.” Another nice summer day.
“Games queued in… basement.” Josh nodded along, just as he had planned. His time off was mostly for gaming and investing, and today, he felt like mowing down some baddies. His VR system was top of the line, and to truly experience its realness, one had to play in it for at least a day, otherwise the greatness was lost. After grabbing a cup of coffee, he retreated to spend the rest of the day logged in and gaming.
Morgan dropped her typewriter on her hand-me-down mahogany desk. It made a thud, but her grandfather’s old desk hardly moved. Both the typewriter and desk had been in the family for decades, and were now in her hands after recently graduating and renting the first place she could call her own.
The desk was comically large, and currently shoved into the corner of her living room. She stacked books on the surface, with random papers scattered around, leaving just enough room for the clunky typewriter. It had been in storage for the move, but Morgan was thrilled to finally break it out. She had long fantasized about sipping coffee, leaving behind more mug stains, and writing from sun up to sun down, thinking only about the words on the paper in front of her.
Writing on a computer never felt the same to her. With the flutter of a few fingers entire paragraphs could be removed or re-arranged. Red and blue squiggly lines drew attention to themselves, begging for the writer to stop and re-consider. With the old typewriter, her words had to be carefully thought-out, arranged, and then plucked from the air and onto the paper. There was something magical about it, something she tried to recreate every day. She silenced her phone. Unplugged the internet. Turned off her TV. She focused on her writing. The words. The feeling. Everything about it was what she had always dreamed of.