They balanced on top of each other like those stoned smoothed over by years of water and time and then stacked in a way to promote emotional balance on some Zen wellness inspirational poster. There were minerals, but they were a blend of silicone, gold, and glass. Not granite, mica, and sand. They were smooth, but this was in spite of time and space gouging out its initials. Not from a gentle, slow buffing of edges and nooks. These three small, black, stone like bricks are the foundation to my silicone tower.
These were ones that remain above the surface of memory, at least. I’ve worked with many devices before them, from what looked like a light blue Motorola Manhattan up to some white candybar virgin mobile feature phone. There’s also an ill-fated Motorola Q burred in the past that brings up many terrible memories related to windows mobile 5.0, but I’ll save those thoughts for nightmares. These little stacked matte black handhelds were the history of my smartphone collection. The history of when I began offloading tasks to these new exobrains and onboarding a new, constant connection to a shared network of nearly limitless knowledge and instant communication.
I gathered them up from the depths of dust from my room, hoping to score a little fun money as well as do a dash of spring cleaning by listing the lot for sale. That was the plan a few days ago. I’ve still got them stacked while I rack my brain for something poetic to say about them and the little tower I’ve built. My little tower of discarded exobrains reaching towards…. what? What is this silicone tower of gold and glass and lightning reaching for? It’s the tower I’m climbing to escape this pit of biodependence, but with each obsolete external augment stacked atop the last, what is it I’m bringing myself closer to?
(This is just a rough draft. Some day I’ll flesh it out more and post on my site)
