The Screen

Once a day, I must rip my eyes, drooping and bloodshot, away from the magnetic computer screen. Constantly walking through the endless digital world, awe-inspired by the neon flashing advertisements lit up across my screen, I let out a robotic laugh as I become part of my computer. This false sense of blithe giddiness leads me down the dark road of isolation every time I open my laptop. Oxygen fills my lungs and I feel the steady throb of a headache peeking around the corner. Oxygen leaves my lungs and my pixelated eyes dart back and forth, scanning and processing page after page. Oxygen in and oxygen out. Black and white erupts into crimson and magenta, lime and electric blue. The colors envelop me further and further until it all stops. The mélange of color turns into a void of black and I see my reflection staring back at me, with accentuated undereye bags and cracked lips. I close my laptop and turn my gaze to the outside world.

Unassuming gray skies filter through the dusty windows and auburn leaves shift in the wind. I know it’s that time of day when an overpriced coffee, pumped with an excess of cream and sugar, becomes my pathway into reality. An overpriced coffee, a brioche, or a stool in the bookstore, perfectly hidden away from forced conversations.

“Can I help you pick something out?” Violently ripped from my own thoughts, I feel like I’ve been woken from a dream.

“Huh? Oh… coffee. Right. Just a black coffee, please.”

As I stand waiting, my eyes fall on the steady traffic of people coming in and out of the café, always having somewhere to be. The drone of voices numbs my thoughts and I fall comfortably in-

“Here’s that coffee for ya!”

I sigh and grab the cup, pouring in packets of sugar. A thin trail of steam marks my path and I begin the walk home.

I venture out of the warm comfort of my solitude into the world once a day. If I let myself become too comfortable with the solicitous algorithm, I become part of it. Today is November 9, 2020. Sipping on my coffee, snow crunches under my feet as I walk through the university district home. Delicate snowflakes begin to fall, trembling in the wind and I look up, immediately making eye contact with a barn owl perched in the lower boughs of a maple tree. His talons curl and the stare of his empty black eyes follow me. A series of chills coarse through my body and I suddenly feel uneasy. His eyes are sunk into his body; the owl looks unkempt and I figure that that must be how the world sees me: disheveled and tired. The duality of nature and the digiverse seem to swallow me as I stumble on the path. The thin branches of the maple tree bend dramatically under the weight of the owl and leaves fall, staining the snow.

I slow and ask him, “Aren’t you cold?” He shudders in the wind. I can hear his voice in my head, speaking with a raspy, sinister tone and his voice is clear as though he were projecting directly into my mind.

“Aren’t you lonely?” I furrow my brows, caught off guard by this question. As I open my mouth to respond, he continues.

“How could I be cold? Even in the coldest hours of morning, when the trees sparkle with ice and rays of sun set the hillside ablaze with ruby light, I am warm. I am dependent on my ecosystem and it provides for me, but you are dependent on an empty screen. What does it provide for you? This is the problem of humanity: instant gratification. You want, but you don’t seek. If it isn’t given to you, why fight?”

Taken aback by the ferocity of his remark, I take a step back, but stay quiet.

Time is suddenly sped up as clouds shift into place and everything goes silent. The surrounding brick buildings of the university melt into the Earth and I feel disconnected from reality. My breath quickens and I squeeze my eyes shut, wondering if I’ve damned myself into the digital world. Did I even leave the house today? Days bleed into each other and I wouldn’t know, anyways. Was this owl real? Or was he a manifestation of my seclusion?

And like my computer running out of power, everything stops. My breathing slows and I open my eyes, seeing a phantasmagoria of evening sunset colors all gnashing against each other. Indigo swirls into lavender and ripe mango collides with cream clouds. I’m not on the snowy path home, either, but atop a crumbling brick building. I look to the side and see the barn owl, sitting nobly atop a fallen tower.

Is this seclusion?

“You, of course, have created your own community, but it’s all in your head. In your crippling moments of depression, your own voice echoes in your skull, reaching only the audience you’ve created. They listen to your desperation and do nothing. They’re parasitic, infecting you with sadness, oozing with falsities. In your battle against loneliness, you have only created it that much more. That’s the difference between us.”

Although it has been there all afternoon, I suddenly become entirely too aware of my phone in my pocket and it seems to become heavier.

“In searching for some mythological instant reward, you have isolated yourself beyond the reaches of humankind. Solitude is not what creates loneliness, but a lack of strength will turn someone’s love into a ghost. That’s what you are now. An empty shell, filled only by screens.”

The weight of my phone finally becomes unbearable and I take it out, pulling it up to my face. When I look into the black screen, I don’t see a shell. I see silvery clouds reaching up towards the heavens, towards impermanence, and towards peace.