Literary Crumbs: Poems & Short Stories to Savor by D. Ryan Lafferty

By D. Ryan Lafferty

Margery Corman took great pride in her home. She delighted in sweeping the kitchen floor, dusting the few tchotchkes that lived on her shelves, and gently wiping down all of the gadgets and gizmos, her sundry electronics, that seem to be ever-present in the modern world. The dawn of early morning sunrises found her straightening the wires and arranging things just so. A place for everything, and everything in its place she sang to herself. In the last few years the appliances seemed to shrink in size but grow in number. It seemed that in the Internet of things, hers was a world filled with gadgets for every task; the modern conveniences of home; a poster child for the infomercial industry. It seemed the dusting took longer now than ever before. Reminded of an old adage, something about, the more possessions we own, the more they end up owning us, she chuckled effervescently and tucked away the feather duster in the narrow kitchen cupboard.

Marge owned so many little devices: machines to check her blood sugar, shop for online savings, to brighten her smile, blend her fruit, and to stir her protein shakes. She could count each step and account for every toss and turn in the night. Her motion sensors constantly conducted the lights on and off as she strode through her home after dark. Smart speakers listened to her every command and followed her from room to room, wrapping her in swaths of sound, a personal soundtrack; curated by algorithm and haptic response. The more she used her devices, the better they knew her and could predict her every whim. After a few years, they didn’t have to work very hard and as Marge got older she seemed to slow down. Well, I suppose it happens to the best of us. It was her 75th birthday and the smart oven was just finishing her cake on the autobake setting. The icing resting in the automatic mixer sat like martian peaks rising out of the stainless steel bowl. The sweet smell of the vanilla frosting made Marge’s mouth water and she stole a taste as she loaded the spatula into the dishwasher. She popped in a detergent pod and started the unit with a gentle voice command. 

The kitchen, laundry room, and living room were abuzz with a flurry of activity. Mechanical scrubbing: lathering, rinsing, repeating, even singing – no, not music, but a beeping sound, as the old gal lifted her wrist, a notification from her smart watch; the first signs of an elevated heart rate signaling a change. The screen dimmed to black, automatically, as she lowered her wrist; reaching down behind the armchair to straighten the knitted throw. She stumbled forward. A lightheadedness overtook her and her eyes grew dim, her sight faded to black with a rush, having momentarily risen too fast from bending down. Marge struggled to keep her balance, she landed on the carpet and there she lay with labored breaths coming in shallow gasps. She simply could not catch her breath. A numbness and tingling, aches radiated through her chest and shoulder, a weakness washed over her and a feeling of calm peace and a sense of departure came upon her. For a moment she counted her breaths, feeling the life flee from her body. She thought about her husband, Herb, who’d already made this journey; the memory of him made her smile as she nestled comfortably into the arms of eternal rest. Despite her calm embrace of this everlasting slumber, a veritable army of devices whirred into motion, a symphony of ringtones, alerts, and alarms sounded at once. A massage pad meant to soothe her arthritis and inflammation was now being modified to expose electrode leads to be applied by the plastic arms of the Frisbee-shaped floor-bot. It whirred and beeped nervously as it sped toward the lady of the house, the holder of the warranty, the end user of the license agreement; the sole reason for their existence. With the guided coordination by the video surveillance system, the team worked in unison to restart their beloved matriarch, their companion, mother, and friend. 

In an hour, Marge woke up on the couch, “I must have dozed off… I’d better get dinner started.” she muttered sleepily as she rose toward the kitchen and smiled lovingly at the sweet familiar picture of Herb sitting on the bookshelf. As she shuffled into the next room the lights raised like those in a movie theater and the stove began to warm as all the other appliances watched silently from their homes nestled within her walls.

Dr. D. Ryan Lafferty is a local Bordentown poet, writer, and the author-illustrator of children’s books. To see more of his writing, visit http://www.dryanlafferty.com or http://www.dartanionpress.com.