Generation cell phone was followed by generation sociopath - we went from a sizeable minority to a majority - and that was the end of the world as we knew it. In the midst of all the other swirling disasters, from disease to wildfires and climate change, a generation without the attention span to develop introspection and thus the kind of self awareness that develops empathy, that was how humanity would devolve... unless we figured out how to reverse the neurological damage and save both our children and those yet unborn... it was the big disaster coming over the hilltop.
Ivan stood on top of the clumps, two windswept mounds of earth and grass elevated to legendary status amid the surrounding flat farmland. Roland had cheated of course, to this one-on-one meeting he had two goons to pat him down and remove any gadgets to a safe distance away. After passing the detectors over every inch they took his cell phone, placed it in a lead box and retreated to the base of the hills. Ivan swallowed hard. No phone meant no secret transmission of the conversation to his supporters, but there was no such restriction on Roland. As the early October wind bit at his face his adversary greeted him warmly, maximum charm, like he did on every podcast from his never-disclosed location. His audience was listening and to them Ivan was the enemy.
Glancing at the man who was two decades older than his public persona, the cell phone was easy to spot. It wasn't wafer thin like the popular models, but almost as large as the 1980's early "brick types" everyone laughed at. This wasn't simply a phone, it was the latest in mobile broadcasting. The superior sound quality gave an impression authority - an essential tool in the war of rhetoric that was the new age. The smart money was in guns, bombs and misinformation - with Roland the star of the show...
...From nowhere came the sound of an old fashioned telephone, so authentic that Livvy scanned the room for an antique, something that wouldn't look out of place in an old movie. She moved around the room, her quiet steps lost under the din. Behind her was a trail of disturbance in the dust; small plumes of particles erupting like mini mushroom clouds. After a few moments she stopped at the heavy wooden table and slid her hand underneath - there was something taped there in plastic.
Livvy ducked down, peeling away fresh duct tape to release the package, still ringing. It was a cell phone, the latest model, the size and shape of an old fashioned credit card in the days before everything was put on the phones. She ripped the bag with her incisors and pulled it out. Like all phones now it was voice activated, in theory, there was no way it would respond to her. "Hello," she said. The ringing stopped...
Keep track of your favorite writers on Descriptionari
We won't spam your account. Set your permissions during sign up or at any time afterward.