THE WORLD MUST WAIT

5AM.

I’M UP.

I sashay to my home office the fishtail pencil skirt sweeping the ground, my movement impeded by metres of fabric fitting my body like a second skin. I look slightly unsteady on my feet; the parameter of my gait restricted. The cold of the marble tiles hit my bare feet and I am grateful for it. The band of the skirt squeezes my waist in a vice grip and rides up to just below my bra sucking everything in and holding my body captive in pale blue floral.

I plonk myself down on the low bed that holds all: Black wires have unravelled since last Saturday when I had hurriedly discarded them there. They have somehow become entangled and are now a heap of wires and plugs and ports...As I inch back on the bed the mouse latches onto me, and the Bluetooth snap-snaps reaching out to weigh me down once more. Logged on, logged in without authentication required, the weight of it makes its way to my shoulders and is knotted there. 

I sigh deeply once more dreaming of a world before the tech explosion impacted everything. 

21st Century skilled, 21 century slave to Tech.

As a 20th century teacher I was as green as the Technology in common use in South Africa in the 70’s. To put things in perspective, I was a teenager in the days before TV, in an era of landlines and Walkman’s, of mixed tapes and Kodak cameras. When the TV-test pattern and the buffering-wheel itself was fascinating, and the internet dial-up sounded like Klingon Pshhhkkkkkkrrrrkakingkakingkakingtshchchchchchchchcch*ding*ding*ding*.

 As a teacher in the late 80’s, worksheets were scrawled on dark blue stencils written with dry ballpoint pens in squiggly script and run off by hand by the printer guy in dark backrooms smelling of ink and sweat, his hands forever stained. I wonder if he lived there amidst the empty cartridges and clanking machines hunched over mumbling to himself about disorganized, selfish people…

The wires have a tight grip on me pulling me into its web of ungodliness. I mumble out of sheer frustration, my days held captive by an endless array of gadgets and electronics. It had become an extension of me... this laptop, this smartphone, these wireless speakers, this projector....

I grip the smartphone as early morning messages start coming through. My hands are claws and shackled to this device that is never silent. It is the boss of me and has made me numb. The world reaches out every day demanding attention over apps that hold our lives to ransom. The phone pings one too many times, stealing battery power (a notification pops up seemingly out of interest for my personal wellbeing, and the device flashes a warning 15%, connect to charger, connect to charger!)

I bolt for the charger! On automatic.

The charger refuses to do its job! Unresponsive to poking or prodding.

 I shove it into the port...nothing.

 I tap it ever so slightly...nothing!

 Arghhhh!

Not again, how many phones have I lost within the past few years and had to replace? 

Too effen many...

I’m beginning to suspect it’s deliberate…

5:30AM.

I’M OFFICIALLY DOWN.

I throw the offending thing face down on the marble floor from where I'm sitting on the blue duvet 100cms from the ground, I throw it with all my might, flinging the android so it hits the ground with a thud, the screen filling with cracks like the varicose veins spreading over my old lady legs. I pick it up, run my fingers along slightly sharp edges as blue and green lines appear on the dead screen. 

I am glad for it.

I give it the finger, stand up and tug-tugging at the offending skirt, I unzip and yank it off my body discarding all the things that hold me in place. I stand there in my mismatched underwear as the soft light of early morning filters into the room casting shadows over my skin. Next to go are the underwires and the lace. I breathe a sigh of relief as I stand there smiling. 

His head pops around the door, he looks slightly scared.

I start giggling, not the scary crazy kind but out of sheer joy. Unfettered I walk to my dressing room, grab all my comfy clothes, and don those. I loosen the tight bun and wisps frame my face, I smooth them back with rosemary oil and hide them away for the day. 

I grab my bag now empty of all its contents and start reciting 1/100 Astaghfirullahs and The connection is made, Biesmillah the only password needed. Featherlight, I make my way down the stairs.

Upstairs in the brilliant sunshine lies the blue android defeated and silenced.

And me…I’m twirling as the white cloak billows around me soft as a cloud.

Ps. This is pure fiction… however I have owned a blue Samsung A32 now dead, and I am known to twirl.