Through his monitor, 3240x90010 megathron stares blankly at the object in my hand. Printed on corrugated paper, a relic from the time of trees, the book is an oddity to him. "Once upon a time," I begin.
" Long before the reign of twitterdom, there were novels-anthologies of work even- shared through generations. In them, words would flow with abandon, for hundreds of pages at a time. And then, people would meet in tribal ceremonies and amidst the punch and the cheese, they would talk. None of this augmented reality shit: real conversations ugly face to ugly face."
Suddenly, manic with nostalgia I reach out toward him through the screen, and attempt contact; a hug. Megathron looks at me with disdain. I have exceeded my 140 word limit. He unplugs me and moves on.
That is so sad...
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