Post (an acrostic poem)

Image: blog.hubspot.com/hubfs/post-instagram-1.jpg

Putting a piece of yourself out into the digital world

Organizing a public persona that the private one hides behind

Still, some of the private part leaks through the online words and pictures

That’s the good/bad of social media.

The Digital Downfall (a 200 word story)

Image: securesense.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/virus-image.jpg

We didn’t even know we were being conquered. 

How about that for humanity’s divine right?

First shoe to drop was when Amazon just went dark.  Like not even a 404-error dark.  A spinning wheel of painful waiting torture was the only eulogy for what was king the day before. 

Facebook and Twitter were soon only posting stories about end of the world scenarios.  Left wing, right wing, any crackpot scenario of the end of the world was jamming everyone’s feeds.  Reddit was the same, no matter the voting of the members.  Hell, 4chan was even doing it.  Like what the hell, 4chan?

The aliens took over so smoothly that by the time we realized what was happening the only thing we could do was to surrender.  Any attempt at pulling the plug and they would go all Terminator on us.  We expected the AIs we would be fighting would be the ones we created, but we were naive.  The alien AIs controlled every digital system on the planet.  The best part was we were all home waiting for COVID-19 to be cured, but the virus that killed off the autonomy of the human race was digital.  No mask for that.

Pockets (an acrostic poem)

 

Putting her hands somewhere was always a chore

Obviously, she could just leave them at her sides.  That would be normal

Carry a purse to bring small change and a set of keys.  You know the usual

Keep some spare currency tucked away with the girls  Happens all the time.

Everything is done to preserve that everyday hourglass silhouette.

Too bad she was more of a digital watch girl.

So that’s why she wore jeans today since they have…

 

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Hacked (an acrostic conversation)

He’s just pretending he has all my info.

And what if he’s not?

Could be he really has my password.

Know what? Doesn’t matter.  You didn’t like digital life anyway

Everything you said is true, except when it comes to watching cat videos

Damn!  I forgot about those.  I’m sorry you were…

 

Image: mercurynews.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/20140408__0420datenight011.jpg

Paper (an acrostic poem)

Putting things in writing was what James preferred

As digital copies couldn’t be trusted

Pen scratching along a surface made something physical

Electrons changed too quickly

Really he just liked making airplanes out of his writing when it didn’t work

 

Image: joebuhlig.com/assets/posts/the-day-on-paper.jpeg

Found (an acrostic poem)

Four years ago Sable set out to find herself

Outside of her job, she had nothing holding her back

Undertaking this journey met getting rid of everything

Now she is a digital nomad roaming, writing, and ever searching

Don’t know if her quest will ever be successful, but the journey is amazing

 

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Robot Artisan (a 150 word story)

As the 3D printer printed out another iteration of his robot’s body, Martin pondered if this method of construction could be considered hand crafted.  He had designed the robot shell in Autodesk Inventor, carefully putting in every curve and thickness.  He had precisely lined up the mounting holes so that all the electronics would fit perfectly with just enough space to make it relatively simple to assemble while making it look tight and tidy to an outside observer.  He had put the previous prototype together, piece by piece, including programming the behaviors himself.  He had molded those behaviors, creating new routines and shaving off excess commands till the code was beautifully efficient.

As Martin watched that previous prototype scurry along the floor, he decided it was hand crafted in this new digital age.  That means he could claim to be a robot artisan, and Martin like the sound of that.

 

Millennial Horror (a 100 word story)

Johan looked down at his silent phone and sighed.  The battery had died, and he had left his charger back in his room.  Johan had a quick idea about texting his roommate to bring him the charger, but then realized that was impossible.  He wanted to call his mom in frustration, but with a dead phone that was a no-no.  Google would probably give him twenty-five alternate ways to power his phone from potatoes and shit like that, but once again no way to do so.  Johan was now an analog outcast in the digital world.  How would he survive?