Bathroom Monologue: He Has To Wonder At 130

At 0: the first computer fills a large room with thousands of coiled wires, billowing steam and punch cards. It crunches numbers. It will help perfect the hydrogen bomb.

At 20: government workers rely on computers the size of desks for data entry and records.

At 25: 62% of respondents do not know what a computer is.

At 35: government computers are connected like axes in a web that spans the world.

At 40: mastery of the x-ray enables physicians to take static images of patients’ insides. Many patients fear side-effects.

At 50: fearing children who are not computer literate will be worthless in the real world, educators race to bring as many computers in the classroom as there are pupils. The computers are half the size of the average pupil.

At 55: multiple miniature cameras are deployed inside a surgery patient, minimizing size of incision and giving a radical vision of the living body.

Also at 55: a teacher receives a phone call in his pocket.

At 60: a student finds an answer using Google on her cell faster than the teacher can pull it up on Encarta.

At 65: a physician releases nanomachines into his own bloodstream. They collect images and information about his vitals.

At 70: a teacher purchases a laptop computer via his cell. Information about his address, bank account, purchasing history and browsing history are stored somewhere.

At 80: a semi-organic computer smaller than a pimple is unveiled in the brainstem of a leading mathematician. It can make numbers do amazing things in your head.

At 85: legislation to ban “internalcells” is overridden in the Supreme Court. 33% of respondents approve, with 49% undecided. Wall Street sees record highs.

At 95: fearing children who are not e-literate will be worthless in the real world, parents race to implant “intercells” cell chips into the heads of newborns.

At 111: the first class of children whose motor skills are entirely pre-programmed by their “cells” attend their first day of school.

At 120: less than 3% of respondents under thirty do not have “at least some” of their emotions digitally regulated.

At 130: the prodigy who bought too much, including a large room full of wires and tickertape, executes a command. Everything turns off. He goes outside without shoes or socks and feels the grass between his toes. Without intracell assistance, his natural hearing is so weak that he misses all the grinding and screaming around him. He wonders what this feeling is called. For the first time in his life, auto-fill does not answer his question. He has to wonder.