One Day in 2040 [fiction contest submission]

A fiction contest hosted by @pennsif is asking for diary entries from a day in 2040, examining what life might be like 23 years from now. Thanks to @pennsif for an awesome writing prompt, and to @mikepm74 and @gmuxx for sponsoring the prize reward. Below is my diary entry.

Dear Diary,

I think my phone is starting to look younger than me.

At first I wasn't sure, but this morning I took a hard look. And she doesn't have any bags under her eyes. None! The wrinkles from her forehead, they're gone. Her cheeks are smooth and soft, like flesh almost. Like a teenager. Slightly pink. Is she wearing blusher? Is it mine? How is this not a bug in her programming?

Or maybe it's Mark, tweaking her aging algorithm. Way too fond of my phone, he is.

At the kitchen table this morning, I told her to call my husband.

“No need. I have already called Mark.”

“You did? What did you say to him?”

“I told him that the veterinary appointment is at 4:00 and your vehicle requires an oil change and--”

“OK, good. Never mind.”

Well, she is efficient, and that was the expectation. Let your phone be your clone... walk your dog, paint your house, balance your checkbook for you. Oh, and it makes calls, too! Twindroid™... finally, another you! When Mark ordered one for me, anatomically correct and everything, I was actually... sort of relieved. Thought it would be a real time saver, but honestly.... she's just creepy.

Anyway, I mentioned it to her this morning at the breakfast table. She looks less like me every day. Odd, for a Twindroid. She's supposed to scan my face weekly and make the necessary adjustments. “There is an upgrade available,” she said, chewing my toast for me. “And Natalie, it's time for your charge.” At least she stopped calling me by my account number.

So I did plug in for a few minutes, but honestly, I'm sick of this. I mean, I get it. Her system's designed to digest nutrients more efficiently than mine. The right ratio of blood sugar to lipids. Her mouth, if you can call it that... it kills food-borne pathogens, burns excess calories, neutralizes allergens. But some days it all just seems so... unorganic.

Remember when I used to be into that? LOL Back in my yoga days. Now I let her stretch me on a pulley and inject me with digested lettuce. At least she removes the pesticides. I remember when phones were just for texting.

I swear to god, she's gonna start writing this diary for me, next.

She's like a too-thin to-do list following me around all day. Also, there's no way that's a B cup. Not anymore. And a phone powered by negative ions floating in the air? Sometimes I wish I could just turn her off.

But I can't.

After lunch, I sent her off on some errands, just to get her out of my hair. Which is why I'm analog today, old fashioned pen and paper. Surprised I can remember how. But my god, her infernal speech recognition – typing down everything I say, all day long. Like evidence. So I told her to go see a matinee this afternoon. Told her she could record it for me and transcribe some captions in French. She's only loaded with Spanish, so that ought to keep her tied up at least till dinner. At least till Mark gets home.

Poor Mark. Always asking me where my phone is. I tell him all the time, “My phone's busy, Mark. She's doing the dishes.” I mean, isn't that why we bought it? But he thinks I'm working her too hard. If you can believe that.

And so, dear diary, I've decided it's time to upgrade my phone. Hey, it was her idea, right? But no more Twindroids for me. In fact, no more females. There's a new line of Philoso-phones™ I've been reading about. Deirdre has one. Tap the great minds, living or dead, from Sartre to Descartes! They're not all French, but it wouldn't bother me if they were. I flipped through the catalog while my old phone was mowing the lawn after breakfast.

Wittgenstein, he was a hottie, that one. But the others on offer, not so much. Hobbes and Spinoza... nope. Schopenhauer, I could surf his hair. And Machiavelli – a grown-up Eddie Munster. Don't need to see that in my kitchen every morning.

In the end, I decided on Socrates. Should make for awesome conversations. Meaning of life stuff, the kind of talks I always wished Mark and I could have. I almost went cheaper; Xeno-phone and Aristo-phone-ies are, like, half the price of this one. But Socrates'll be worth it. I like being asked questions. Makes me feel someone's listening to me.

Quite a shock for Mark, I suppose, when he asks for my phone and sees the change. But honestly, it's time my phone started stimulating me for a change.

[ cover image courtesy of pixabay.com with a text overlay ]