68. Microwaves
June 6, 2008
Sarah was doing laundry. As she measured the powdered soap, she remembered she was supposed to call Michelle today. Sarah put down the plastic cup and reached into her jeans pocket. The phone rang. It was Michelle.
“Hi, Michelle.”
‘Hi, you want to get lunch soon?”
“Sure, I’ll be right over.”
The two girls walked to the Greek deli on the corner and ordered dolmades and sodas. They sat at the deli’s only table and ate, making prolific use of the tiny, square paper napkins in the old aluminum dispenser.
“I wonder what Alison is doing later,” Sarah said. She reached for her phone. As she was scrolling for Alison’s number, she got a text message: What are you up to? It was from Alison.
“That’s so weird,” said Sarah. “Twice today I’ve gotten my phone out to call someone, and that person has called me right then.
Michelle wiped olive oil from her lips. “That’s just the microwaves coming from the phone when it’s about to ring. Someday the whole species will be able to predict that.”
“Ha. Only if it helps me reproduce.”
“How could it not?”
“What do you mean?”
“If it helps you communicate, it will help you fuck. And besides, it’s not like you’re the only one who can do this already.”
“Wow,” Sarah said, as they left the deli and went to hang out with Alison. “I have a mutant superpower.”
This eminently stupid story has been postdated to appear on Friday, June 6. The author will be away from her computer until Monday, June 9.
image: Milica Sekulic on flickr
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