Futurism is powered by Vocal.
Vocal is a platform that provides storytelling tools and engaged communities for writers, musicians, filmmakers, podcasters, and other creators to get discovered and fund their creativity.
How does Vocal work?
Creators share their stories on Vocal’s communities. In return, creators earn money when they are tipped and when their stories are read.
How do I join Vocal?
Vocal welcomes creators of all shapes and sizes. Join for free and start creating.
To learn more about Vocal, visit our resources.Show less
The gleaming, shiny surface of my new MacBook Pro shone like a beacon as the Best Buy guy set up my new computer.
I sat as still as I possibly could while I watched the technician fiddle with cords and wires, excitement leaking through every pore on my body. I couldn’t take my eyes off of my new toy.
As I waited, I turned my attention to my iPhone X, engrossed with the pretty pictures and bright lights that flitted across the screen. I scarcely noticed the man was done setting my computer up until he cleared his throat, annoyance obvious in his action.
“It’s ready for you, miss,” he was barely done speaking before I was already in front of the screen, flipping it on and looking for the welcome screen to pop up. He was taken aback, but I didn’t care. The newest technology Apple could offer me was within my reach, and no one would distract me from my goals.
I gave him a quick wave. “Thanks!” I reverted back to my computer and waited for him to show himself out. I thought I saw him shake his graying head at me as he turned away, but I was too far gone to care.
“Finally!” I triumphed to myself. I had been on the wait list for three months, patiently anticipating the release of the finest that Apple could offer me. Loaded with all-new, never before seen features, a glossy exterior and the fastest software system that money could buy, I was powerless to the appeal of keeping up with the latest and greatest.
I tucked my loose strands of hair behind my ears and rubbed my hands together. This was going to be awesome.
Nine hours had flown by in what seemed like mere minutes. The sun had gone down, and in my time glued to the screen, I hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights in my now dark kitchen. Even my human needs were barely noticed in my engrossed state of mind.
I yawned and rubbed my eyes. I glanced over at the microwave to find the time. Midnight, I thought absentmindedly. I should really get some sleep.
I started to slide my desk chair back and head towards my bedroom. The glowing computer screen, almost ethereal in the darkened room, seemed to pull me back into my seat. I thought nothing of it as I settled back in.
What would five more minutes hurt?
The early dawn barely captured my attention as I was fully immersed in my computer. I glanced at the clock again.
I had sat on Facebook for five hours doing absolutely nothing. As ridiculous as it was, I cared little and did not miss the time I had wasted clicking and scrolling through my Facebook feed, marvelling and laughing at the tiniest thing that caught my eye.
I yawned and stretched out. Common sense finally came to mind, and I was about to stand up, but a video I had pulled up on the screen and buffered was ready for me. I clicked play, waiting expectantly.
Odd, I thought to myself as I pressed play again and again, still nothing happening. My patience was running thin, and I couldn’t resist my normal, human reaction. I started tapping the screen hard.
No one could have anticipated what happened next.
The screen made a horrible screeching noise as a large, almost portal-like entry opened and took over my Facebook page. I could barely hold back my blood curdling scream as the portal sucked my body into a swirling black abyss.
When I materialized on the other side of the glass, I was placed in front of a large, glowing screen. My blood ran cold as I saw my wooden desk chair, and beyond that, the kitchen on the other side of hazy portal. Helplessly, I slammed my hands on the surface, and howled as I slowly registered the fact that I had become a victim to my need for modern technology.
The old man sat quietly in the trees while he gazed through the windows into the small, white kitchen. As the girl behind the desk disappeared, he slowly began to smile, carving another knotch into his walking stick.
“Damn kids nowadays,” he shook his head almost regretfully.
As he turned away from the tiny house, his robes waved in the breeze that had suddenly picked up. Underneath his black billowing robes, his blue polo shirt with the yellow logo poked out.