Lost in transmission
J. chose commute routes that let him maximize his phone time. Closed off routes he could see far into the distance. Those were easiest to mentally snapshot without needing to worry much about collisions as he walked.
He had been replying to messages all morning on a social network called Farcaster and was mid response with a customer before getting stuck on what to say. He stared down at the message as he walked before giving up and flipping back to the feed. A post about crypto prices and volatility rose to the top.
Why do people talk so much about this crap in crypto.
He began tapping out a scathing response. "Too unhinged", he thought and debated vague posting it to the timeline before his sense of civility and sensibility kicked back in.
The podcast he started when he left home buzzed back into his awareness, suddenly irritating.
What episode is this? ...Tarantino? Ah right, the one on biographies.
He restarted the episode and then opened up Telegram and saw 4 unread messages from group chats, some business, some personal.
Right, I still haven't responded to them...what did they want again?
Tap.
Shit, does this thing have read receipts?
It does.
God damn it. How do I turn those off?
Google confirmed you cannot.
Why? That's stupid.
And then an all familiar itch entered his brain.
I should post about this. Messenging apps should never...
He cancelled that post too. Some wiser part of J.'s conscious reminded him that there's no better way to appear clinically mad than to complain publicly. And that also, nobody fucking cares.
Some new notifications came in. Tap.
Nothing happened.
Come on...
Tap.
Cached?
Tap tap tap tap.
A second later the screen flashed and stuttered as the notifications flowed in.
Great. More emoji people followed me. Thanks Warpcast.
A screen time notification popped up and J. dismissed it, his thumbs impatiently tapping faster than the phone could render the buttons.
A background process kicked in and told him he was approaching a crosswalk. He must have cached its location in an earlier snapshot. He didn't mind waiting at crosswalks that much, he could use his phone guilt-free. Sometimes he'd even wait an extra lap of lights.
When the crosswalk went green he started tailgating a man in a suit, delegating his eyes to him while he continued catching up on his notifications. He opened Messenger to remember he hadn't got back to his friend who asked for lunch recommendations 2 days ago.
Damn it. Sorry Kyle.
In another chat Kate sent him a link to Instagram. He uninstalled it a year ago after spending too much time there but he had a policy to open her links. He wasn't logged in.
He opened 1password and scanned his face. It didn't work.
Scan again. Search Instagram username. Tap fill password. Tap. Copy. Close. Tap. Paste.
"You're accessing Instagram from a new location, enter a short code to access."
Here we go.
The code went to his disabled American phone number.
Settings. Cellular. T-Mobile. Enable cellular.
The man in the suit J. had been tailgating had tapered off by now. J. was taking periodic mental snapshots of the sidewalk he walked on but mostly gambling others were paying more attention than himself.
A message welcoming him to Japan streamed in as his network came online. His voicemail filled with calls from area codes he'd never seen before, but no short code.
Notification center. Airplane mode on. Airplane mode off. Pause. Nothing. Rerequest code.
A mother with a stroller pulled over to let J. pass. He was finally logged in but the link to the original content was lost.
Fucking classic.
He did notice 6 direct messages waiting for his response. Some family member was coming to Tokyo and asking for things to do. The rest were viral videos. His brother sent one of a japanese girl throwing fastballs in high heels.
She's actually got great form.
He watched 4 more before closing Instagram and remembering Kate had sent him a link. He tapped it again and was asked to sign in.
Fucking embedded browsers man.
He was 5 minutes passed his destination already.
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