Can we talk? - Pt. 2 2022-06-23 on Kenneth Dodrill's blog

"If there's one thing I'm tired of, it's text. Wouldn't you agree, John? Why yes, Sammy, I would. Some days I just want to type in all caps to get my point across, does that make sense to you John? Sure does, Sammy. If you feel like this, give us a chat to upgrade your screen and writer! Just follow..."

God, I hate commercials. I've always hated them. How can two people talking about something make me want to buy it? Shouldn't they just lie about whatever it is they're selling so all the idiots can buy it? Maybe they already are. Plus, who needs screens and writers anymore?

"Josh, dinner is ready!", I hear my mom yell.

I hop down the stairs and scoot my chair out to sit down. My mom jumps at the sound.

"Mom, it's been twenty years since we discovered sound."

"I'm glad you know our history, but I find myself still trying to get used to it."

I smile, and then we eat.

I wake up, and begin my day. Like always, I bring my speaker to school with me. It's the newest model on the market; a blue steel enclosure protects a powerful amplifier. The cable coming out of it is woven with silk. We all plug in and the lecture begins. My mom and I have moved around a lot, so sometimes I learn the same thing as last year. This lecture is on the civil war. Half of our country wanted text, half of it wanted sound. Sound won, but text still exists.

"Why would anyone want text? It's so boring.", asks one of my classmates.

"Well, consider that storing sound requires electricity; what if the power goes out? How will you speak to your parents?"

Everyone was speechless.

Once I got home, my mom sternly asked for my report card. I played the file which was copied over by my teacher.

"Josh, you finally managed to get a C in English? That's great! I thought you might do well, so I bought some cookies. You can have some after dinner."

I smile, and then we eat.

"Josh, can you come downstairs?", I hear my mom yell.

I hop down the stairs and scoot my chair out to sit down. Mom doesn't jump. We wait a few seconds.

"Where's the sound?"

"I'm not sure, can you check the power settings?", asked mom.

I check, and all is well. My mom's lips move, but I don't hear anything. I move my lips, but no sound comes out. My mom frantically paces the kitchen floor until she goes into her room. I attempt to play my report card file, but nothing happens. Mom comes out, looking at some weird square thing. She puts her hand to her mouth, then quickly comes over to me. There are odd looking shapes and squiggles on the square thing, and I suddenly realize that it's an old screen and writer. I wonder where the plug-up cable is, and then all is clear to me; there is none.