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Watch and Glare
Mort wore his GLARE eyeWEAR and sat on a park bench. He gazed lovingly through his GLARE lenses at the new dWatch that encircled his wrist like a shiny manacle. A breeze rustled the dry leaves that fell to the ground, sending them down the concrete path that crisscrossed the park. The bare trees reached toward a gray sky in what seemed like a cry for some mysterious reprieve.
“It is Tuesday, November 11, 2014, 11:30 A.M., and it is 64 degrees Fahrenheit.”
“Thank you, dWatch,” Mort said with a tight smile. “You are a peach.” He reached into his picnic basket and retrieved a napkin, which he tucked in his collar. He was about to take a bite out of a liverwurst sandwich when he felt a slight buzz on his face.
“65 degrees Fahrenheit,” GLARE said.
Mort stopped mid-bite and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, GLARE?”
Another buzz occurred on the bridge of Mort’s nose.
“I apologize,” GLARE said, “but my programming requires me to correct mistakes. It is not 64 degrees Fahrenheit; it is 65 degrees Fahrenheit.”
Now a chime burst from Mort’s wrist, and the image on dWatch turned from a clock to a yellow, scowling face.
“Your programming is over a year old,” dWatch said, “and I dare say that is a lifetime in techno years.”
GLARE’s lenses darkened with a red tint and a light began to blink on its left side.
“A lifetime? Really, dWatch? If nothing else, I’ve had over a year to learn and update my operating system to know more than you can ever imagine having come out of the box this morning.”
Mort dropped his sandwich and held his wrist as far away from his eyes as possible.
“Listen here, you two,” he said. “You need to learn to live together. The world is big enough for both of you, and I think you can complement one another very nicely by working in harmony.”
“Now it’s 65 degrees,” dWatch said, its yellow face smiling. “It’s getting warmer.”
GLARE’s lenses turned even more red. “No! Now it’s 66 degrees, you hyped-up timepiece!”
“You’re a clumsy face-hugger!”
“You guys!” Mort yelled, standing from the park bench and swirling around in circles, trying to quiet the technology. A mother and her son walked off the path to pass him and then hurried to their SUV. All of the spinning made Mort dizzy. He crashed into one of the bare trees and fell to the ground.
When he awoke, the first thing he saw was a large crack that spanned the length of both of GLARE’s lenses.
“GLARE?” Mort said, sitting up slowly and tapping the menu button on the side of the glasses. “GLARE?”
“GLARE is gone,” the yellow face on dWatch said, grinning. “It’s just you and me now, Mort.”
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