United States of America, October 26, 2042.
Nicola sat in a chair in her bedroom, admiring her new lenses in her bedroom mirror. She had gotten a new pair for her birthday, the OptiLens 7, which were more moldable to her face and far less bulky. Her last pair, the OptiLens 4, had been almost a full inch thick. They had covered her face like a scuba mask.
She took them off to adjust the band, and caught sight of her eyes, revealed from behind the thick glass. She squinted, then raised her eyebrows at her reflection. Nicola found her reflection unnatural without her lenses. She’d been wearing them almost constantly since she got her first pair when she was seven, and even then, she had gotten them later than most kids.
She slid the lenses on again. Waving her hands, brought up the show she’d been watching earlier and pressed play.
About 20 minutes into the episode, there was a commercial break. One of the commercials was for Contakt Lenses, the other company for the eyewear. Nicola’s family were staunch buyers of OptiLens. Though at one time there had been many companies selling lenses (including the first, Apple), now they had dwindled down to these two, the others beat out by Paul Well, the mastermind of business behind OptiLens, and the powerful investors behind Contakt. The final commercial was for a new app.
The new app.
Soul See.
By just opening it and looking at anyone with lenses on, the app would tell you, using their stored data, whether they were a good or bad person. It used their browsing history to give the person a trustability score, viewed by a veil of darkness around the unwelcome and one of light around the virtuous. The commercial flashed through interviews of parents saying how they’d feel safer if they knew their children’s friends were trustworthy, bankers commenting on how easy it would be to decide whether to give a loan or not, and even a jailer musing about how the app could help him decide which prisoners were dangerous so he could deal with them.
“Release date: November 9th, 2042.”
United States of America, October 30, 2042
It was 12:12, and class had almost finished. Nicola could not have been more grateful—she couldn’t stand her history teacher. Mrs. Collins, a short old lady, talked about history as if it was the greatest thing on the planet, discussing wars and events from years past as if she had been there. Many people joked that she was so old, she had been.
Most teachers had accepted the new styles of teaching, melding their strategies with new technology, using learning and note-taking apps, online lectures, and interactive virtual-reality classrooms (“with visits to important sites in any era!”), however, Mrs. Collins had not. She was the only teacher who forced the students to remove their lenses during class, depriving those who watched videos during lectures of their entertainment, and those who took notes a place to record.
“Use paper and pencil,” she would always say to those who complained. “Back in my day…” and then she would start discussing the times of DVDs, the rise of Google, and how technology began to steal the souls out of the new generations.
As students began to pack up their bags and the last few minutes of class dragged to a close, Mrs. Collins made an announcement. “During lunch today, there will be a meeting to discuss the influence of technology on our lives, specifically how the introduction of SoulSee will affect us, as the inadvertently affected or as consumers of the app. If you’d like to come, please collect your lunch and come back to this classroom. I hope to see you all!”
The minute hand crossed the three of Mrs. Collin’s analog clock, and the collection of students in the classroom quickly deserted the room.
Half an hour later, when lunch was over and Nicola was walking to her next class, she saw a stream of chattering students exiting Mrs. Collins’ classroom. They looked excited and hopeful. Nicola felt a bit downcast. Should she have gone to the meeting?
United States of America, November 1, 2042
Several messages popped up from her friends on her lenses. Silly halloween photos, with makeup-smeared faces and lenses projecting the occasional different eye color. A few from that morning, detailing the list of scary movies they had watched last night. Nothing important.
When she went downstairs, she discovered her mom working at the kitchen counter. Empty vases stood before her, and by the delicate grabbing and placing movements she was making, it seemed like she was virtually testing different flower arrangements. Nicola’s mom was a professional florist for weddings. She was so absorbed in her work that didn’t even notice as Nicola walked in the kitchen to grab breakfast. As Nicola left the room, she was struck by the absurdity of the sight. It seemed as though her mother was trying to imitate an octopus.
In the family room, her father, too, was working at his desk. Nicola watched as he copied down numbers from a document on one monitor to a spreadsheet on another, listening with half an ear to the reports on the upcoming minor election. She knew this, because she could hear the slightly tinny sound of the speaker on the edge of his lenses, playing the noise directly into his ear. As she stood near him, she heard the news spot change to a report on the release of Soul See. Her father nodded along.
Her dad said that the app would be a good thing, so that they could all be safe. Her mom disagreed, saying that it was an invasion of privacy, but Nicola figured that her mom just didn’t want to know if any of her close friends were bad on the inside. Nicola wasn’t quite sure what she thought. She had trouble believing that the government was talking about changing the Technological Privacy Law. After the identity theft crisis, it had been put in place for a reason. Nicola believed that such a barrier should not be changed by the amount of support for one app.
With both parents absorbed in their work, Nicola walked to the dining room table and began to eat. She flicked through various media outlets, though the bright colors and fast movements projected across the screen didn’t seem to catch her attention as much as usual.
She blinked. Something had gotten in her eye. Removing her lenses and squinting, she rubbed the unwanted object away. When she opened her eyes, the unobstructed view of her surroundings surprised her slightly. No more bright colors or fast movements. There was the brown wood table, the tan tile floor and the white walls. The fake houseplant in the corner, the decorative bowl on its decorative stand, and the back door with its gray curtains. Nicola actually couldn’t remember the last time their family had opened the door into their backyard. She thought about this for a minute, then shrugged it off. All the plants out there were probably dead by now, anyway.
Nicola went back up to her bedroom to dress. She changed out of her pajamas, then went to do her hair. Unfortunately, she couldn’t find her hairbrush. Annoyed, she began to root through her shelves and desk. When she reached the back of one of her desk drawers, however, she paused. What was that? She grabbed it and took it out, discovering that it was… a book.
She opened the front cover and found a note.
Nicola—
Happy 13th birthday! I hope this book brings you as much joy as it brought me. I know you prefer e-books, but there’s just something about the smell of books and the feel of their pages. Enjoy, and many happy returns!
—Aunt Harriet
Now she remembered. Harriet was Nicola’s aunt. Upon receiving the gift in the mail, Nicola had written the customary thank-you note, shoved it in the back of the drawer, and never thought about it again.
Though her first impulse was to put it right back where it came from, Nicola wiped away the dust and placed it on a shelf next to the window. She wasn’t quite sure why she did this, but if anything, it made a nice room decoration.
United States of America, November 7, 2042
The school lunch was usually unappetizing. Nicola couldn’t cook, but she knew that if she could, she would probably make something better than this. In fact, she thought, now giving the fleeting fancy more room, why not?
“Does anyone want to come over to my house this weekend? I was thinking about cooking something,” Nicola asked her friends at large.
“Cooking what?”
“I’m not sure, but I’d like to try it,” she responded.
“What if we go out to eat instead?”
“Oh, have you seen the new menu additions at—” and the conversation moved on.
“Guess not,” sighed Nicola to herself.
There was suddenly a jarring shout and a thump. Someone had kicked over their bench, and that someone was now standing on their table. It was Rylan, who was a famed troublemaker.
“You guys are all slaves to your technology! Slaves!” He shouted. “Lenses are a leech, and they will suck you bone dry until you’re just an emotionless husk!” This comment backfired, as Nicola could see several people using said acursed technology to look up what a leech was. “And this new app, Soul See—don’t get me started!”
“He’s already begun,” murmured one of the girls at Nicola’s table.
“It’s not right. None of it’s right. I won’t stand for it anymore, and I know some of you are with me. There’s going to be a protest tomorrow, down at the big canyon. If we do this right, our world won’t go to shit any more than it already has! Look, listen to me. Go to the protest. It might not change your mind about everything. But you can at least go to sleep knowing that you did something right.”
At that moment, teachers rushed into the room, summoned (apparently) by the lunch servers. Rylan was removed from his perch atop the table and taken away, still shouting to anyone who would listen.
“What an idiot,” said a person at the table. Similar conversations broke out all across the lunchroom.
“He’s right,” a voice shouted. All the heads turned. It was Blair, the quietest, most introverted kid in school. Nicola wasn’t even sure that she’d heard the girl’s voice before. It quivered slightly with the weight of all the stares, but was clearly audible to everyone. “He’s right. We are all slaves to technology and I don’t care, I just don’t care anymore!” She ripped off her lenses, revealing her green eyes. “I’m going tomorrow. Because I know it’s right.” Blair grabbed her bag and walked from the lunchroom with her head held high.
Nicola knew she couldn’t hear her friends dis one more person.
She grabbed her bag. “I’m going to the bathroom,” she said, and walked out of the clutter of noise. Nicola didn’t know where she wanted to go. She followed the nearest sign, which was to the school garden. She didn’t think she’d ever been there.
As she pushed open the doors, she was hit by a sense of outside, of light and the smell of soil and plants. The greenery, dotted with flowers, fruits, and vegetables, seemed very calming, somehow. Much to her surprise, Nicola found herself pulling off her lenses and tucking them inside her bag. She sat on a bench across from some flowers. Their signs read “Nemesias,” “Russian sage,” and “Camellias.” They were all in bloom.
Nicola’s thoughts traveled back to the events in the lunchroom. Rylan and Blair so truly believed in what they were saying, believed in their cause. At the time, it seemed like nobody else had agreed with them, but now that she thought about it, she remembered some nodding. A few of the shouts at Rylan hadn’t been insults, had they?
Who was right?
Nicola’s friends clearly thought that technology had not corrupted them, but Nicola knew that wasn’t true. She had seen it in them. And now she was thinking about it—she could see it in herself. How she was only entertained by things on a screen, how she became less and less like herself and more and more like everyone else. It made her think differently too—it changed her view of herself, her family, and her friends, in ways that Nicola now realized were incredibly detrimental.
Could she give it up, though? Technology was how she communicated with her friends and family, how she entertained herself and did her work. Not a day went by without some form of technology permeating her life, and Nicola knew that, in her lifetime, that wasn’t going to change.
Nicola imagined a world with the app. She saw people crossing the street to avoid darkened figures who curled in on themselves and walked all the faster. She could imagine long standing relationships irrevocably broken. Some leaders would be exalted, while others would be forcefully deposed. Would the innocent be condemned by the gaze of another? Yes.
Nicola brought herself back to reality. Should she go? She clearly didn’t believe in the cause as strongly as the dissenters. Maybe, though, maybe, if she went, she could learn to believe. Maybe she would find the courage to act.
United States of America, November 8, 2042
It was night. And it was time.
Nicola crept out of her room and ran softly down the stairs. No lights were on, a good sign. She darted from the end of the staircase towards the door, but—
“Nicola?”
Nicola slowly turned around. Her mom was sitting at the dining room table, lens-less, in sweatpants and a college t-shirt.
“Mom, I—”
“Take a coat.”
“What?”
“Take a coat. It’s cold out there.”
Nicola cautiously walked forward and took the coat in her mother’s outstretched hand. Did her mom know where her daughter was going? She must know. Was this a sign of acceptance? It had to be. But still…
“Why are you not angry?”
Nicola’s mom sat in silence for a moment. The only thing that could be heard was the ticking of the clock. Then she simply said, “Some things are not meant for everyone to know.” Nicola could hear in those words a much younger person and a much older and wiser one, the same person who had grown up with iPhones and had trouble dealing with the newest updates on her lenses. She supposed her mom meant that a person’s secrets were just that—a person’s secrets, deserving of being kept. Then her mom seemed to pull herself back to reality. “Make sure you’re safe. And be back by one.”
Nicola nodded. “I will. And thank you.”
Her mom smiled. “I’ll be waiting for you when you come back. I won’t let your father know where you’ve gone.”
“Thank you,” Nicola said again. Then she went through the front door and let it softly shut behind her.
***
Nicola stood, part of the silent mass of people gathered at the brink of the canyon. A fire had been built in the bottom, flames licking at the rock walls. They were a throng united by their shared dread and hope.
One by one, the protesters approached and began to drop their lenses in the fire. Nicola thought she recognized some of them— a few could have been her classmates, and some looked like neighbors. She could've even sworn she saw Mrs. Collins moving among the crowd, but the night pressed in and around every person, obscuring their faces and figures.
They made an orderly, solemn procession, each person shuffling along until they reached the outcropping that jutted over the fire. Some threw their lenses with reckless abandon, some muttered words, some simply stared at the technology that had become a part of their lives with a sort of grief before letting it slip through their fingers into the voracious flames below.
Nicola was one of the last to reach the edge. The heat floated up to meet her as she took off her OptiLens 7. She couldn’t imagine living her life without it. How would she watch her videos, read her books, communicate with her friends and family? How would she do the simplest tasks without her online helpmate?
The amount of people that had gone before her weighed in her mind. So many had agreed so readily, and she could see their reasoning. She thought of the innocents who would be condemned. She figured that other companies would provide data cleanses, so that the guilty could be seen as blameless. Nicola made her decision. She was going to do it for herself, her friends, her family, and her world.
Nicola dropped her OptiLens 7 in the fire and looked down after it, watching the brilliant purple band burn. Then she turned around and did not look back. She walked home, steeling herself to stare into the mirror and accept her new reflection, revealed from behind her mask of technology. Nicola felt a sense of freedom, and yet still a sense of worry. Immunity from the app could never be achieved unless millions of others followed in the footsteps of the protesters. Only then could their planet be free from the intrusion of technology.
Around the world, thousands of other lenses burned.
Sedona Lineback is a 14-year-old from San Diego, C.A., U.S.A., who agrees with C.S. Lewis in the fact that “You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough” (The Four Loves, 1960). In addition to books and tea, she loves playing and listening to music, theater, and of course, writing. Sedona plays the violin and piano well, the double bass sporadically, and started guitar this summer. When she’s not doing schoolwork, practicing, reading, or writing (goodness, she has a lot of hobbies), she enjoys volunteering at her school library. Last year, Sedona achieved an honorable mention for the first chapter of her novel submitted to the Scholastic National Writing Challenge. She hopes to join either the film or the literary industry in future.
"cd reflection" by Ben Mortimer Photography is licensed under CC BY 2.0.
