Technology Baby Steps
Dec. 29th, 2011 06:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
charisstomaTitle: Technology Baby Steps
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 712
Yes, I got one as a gift.
The box sat. Smooth black, tan, grey and silver lettering. It mocked. Inside was technology, a step into current & future larger steps. Steps she did not necessarily want to take.
She liked her reliable reading method that never ran out of battery.
She would miss the tactile feel of a cover holding weighty words. Pages whose edges ruffled with a stroke through them like through a lover’s hair. Like that hair, the pages could be slick, freely moving to touch or soft and velvety if they were much loved and read. Sometimes the paper pages was textured in themselves, smooth sheets like polished linen or pebbly like the feel of skin with all its imperfections. The pages themselves told a tale; water stains of course but then there were bits that had been left behind telling what previous readers had been doing while their minds were occupied with the words placed down upon the pages. There were dreaded corner folds that some inconsiderate individual had desecrated the page with, but that even told its own story. This was a place someone had stopped and came back to later after some life distraction had been dealt with.
Her favorite tale was of a book that held hidden a secret at its end. Neatly bored through back most facing page, through the rich royal midnight blue had been gnawed a hole in the center of the paper. She’d heard the explanation; the book had been left out open enough for a snail or slug to crawl in and feast. Considerate mollusk to leave undamaged the pages with words.
She would miss the scent of the ink, if the book was new; but even if the book was old there was the pleasant scent of age, the oxidizing of quality paper that one can find in libraries in the older stacks and the books that belonged upon them.
Yes, she would miss that rich experience.
With a sigh she picked up the box, noticing the shine of silver imprinting that told of what the box held. The black side edges had a faux leather feel and look to it that pleased. The rest of the box was sturdy smooth cardboard with again the imprint in silver, this time on the front. This time it sat on mundane tan, not a bad thing if only there wasn’t a fake, almost cartoon of what the package held. Admittedly the picture was raised and pleasing to feel if one’s eyes were shut. The back was better with no pretensions. A photo of what the product was held in a person’s hand. Displayed on this photo were the words, “Prologue,” followed the first words of some story. Above this photo was the list of advertising the product capabilities.
“Reads like real paper.” Ha.
“Battery life of up to one month.” Did one really want to wait for a battery to recharge to read one’s book? And did it give you notice that it was low in battery power so you could make sure that the battery didn’t run out?
“Holds 1400 books.” Were they sure? What if the books were really long? Could someone hack your account and delete your books or select books. She’s heard that the book distributor had done just that once.
“Choose from millions of books.” Ah, but just a certain set of books. REAL books could be picked up anyway, just about, and read. More importantly kept without fear that technology would make previously downloaded books no longer available like things she’d downloaded to floppy disk. Stories that were now lost to her.
“Special Offers.” Screensavers for when you aren’t reading. She sighed. REAL books were their own screensaver.
But this thing was the future. Shiny and new like its box and with a hint of impermance because this was a Kindle and not the Kindle Fire. She thought, ‘baby steps.‘ With another in a long string of sighs, some only mental, she picked up the box detailing what was necessary to open it. She’d need to break the seal at the bottom and push it up then pull the incised tab to unzipper the cardboard at the angled top. She reached and placed her thumb nail onto the seal … Baby steps.
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 712
Yes, I got one as a gift.
The box sat. Smooth black, tan, grey and silver lettering. It mocked. Inside was technology, a step into current & future larger steps. Steps she did not necessarily want to take.
She liked her reliable reading method that never ran out of battery.
She would miss the tactile feel of a cover holding weighty words. Pages whose edges ruffled with a stroke through them like through a lover’s hair. Like that hair, the pages could be slick, freely moving to touch or soft and velvety if they were much loved and read. Sometimes the paper pages was textured in themselves, smooth sheets like polished linen or pebbly like the feel of skin with all its imperfections. The pages themselves told a tale; water stains of course but then there were bits that had been left behind telling what previous readers had been doing while their minds were occupied with the words placed down upon the pages. There were dreaded corner folds that some inconsiderate individual had desecrated the page with, but that even told its own story. This was a place someone had stopped and came back to later after some life distraction had been dealt with.
Her favorite tale was of a book that held hidden a secret at its end. Neatly bored through back most facing page, through the rich royal midnight blue had been gnawed a hole in the center of the paper. She’d heard the explanation; the book had been left out open enough for a snail or slug to crawl in and feast. Considerate mollusk to leave undamaged the pages with words.
She would miss the scent of the ink, if the book was new; but even if the book was old there was the pleasant scent of age, the oxidizing of quality paper that one can find in libraries in the older stacks and the books that belonged upon them.
Yes, she would miss that rich experience.
With a sigh she picked up the box, noticing the shine of silver imprinting that told of what the box held. The black side edges had a faux leather feel and look to it that pleased. The rest of the box was sturdy smooth cardboard with again the imprint in silver, this time on the front. This time it sat on mundane tan, not a bad thing if only there wasn’t a fake, almost cartoon of what the package held. Admittedly the picture was raised and pleasing to feel if one’s eyes were shut. The back was better with no pretensions. A photo of what the product was held in a person’s hand. Displayed on this photo were the words, “Prologue,” followed the first words of some story. Above this photo was the list of advertising the product capabilities.
“Reads like real paper.” Ha.
“Battery life of up to one month.” Did one really want to wait for a battery to recharge to read one’s book? And did it give you notice that it was low in battery power so you could make sure that the battery didn’t run out?
“Holds 1400 books.” Were they sure? What if the books were really long? Could someone hack your account and delete your books or select books. She’s heard that the book distributor had done just that once.
“Choose from millions of books.” Ah, but just a certain set of books. REAL books could be picked up anyway, just about, and read. More importantly kept without fear that technology would make previously downloaded books no longer available like things she’d downloaded to floppy disk. Stories that were now lost to her.
“Special Offers.” Screensavers for when you aren’t reading. She sighed. REAL books were their own screensaver.
But this thing was the future. Shiny and new like its box and with a hint of impermance because this was a Kindle and not the Kindle Fire. She thought, ‘baby steps.‘ With another in a long string of sighs, some only mental, she picked up the box detailing what was necessary to open it. She’d need to break the seal at the bottom and push it up then pull the incised tab to unzipper the cardboard at the angled top. She reached and placed her thumb nail onto the seal … Baby steps.
