The Stories of our Lives

The alarm clock wakes me up at 6:32. In the shower, the water gushes in a steady warm flow. The toaster is set to 4, so the bread gets crispy but not stiff. The fridge offers orange juice kept at 36 degrees F. Plate and glass go in the dishwasher, set with options normal cycle-extra rinse-heat dry.

From the morning show on tv, I know of traffic issues in advance and learn potential alternate commutes. I start the car; the dashboard lights up – ready to inform about anything amiss – and the stereo automatically begins playing music to my liking. En route, traffic lights keep travelers agreeing and, once on the highway, the activated cruise-control frees me of worrying about keeping a steady speed. 12 minutes later I enter the company parking lot: a snowplough service has already removed the effects of last night’s storm and cleared my spot.

Work begins at 8h. An ergonomical chair prevents any strain on my back, and the screen on my desk pinpoints reminders, tasks and meetings. The office’s temperature is regulated by the dual action of a heating system and air conditioning, so that weather does not affect work. If a glare should appear on the screen, I can shut the blinds to continue working comfortably. I meet a client at 10:00, during which time the phone’s ring is muted, and voicemail picks up my messages. Lunch hour starts at 12h – voicemail is activated again while I consumate food reheated for one minute and 52 seconds at intensity 7 in the microwave. The courrier guy comes around at 16h to pick up a registered package bound for a city in another province. It will reach its destination at 10h the next day; should it get lost, the warranty will replace it.

I get in the car again at 17h02. I stop at the store on the way home, where I get my pick from a dizzying array of food on display. I get annoyed there’s no avocado in stock. Back at home, a machine chops the food for me, and it is cooked at 375 degrees for 18 minutes exactly, after which delay the timer goes off.

I eat in the living room, remote control in hand, zapping through a sea of 500 tv channels until I settle on a travel show uncovering the beauty of a country half a world away. Later on, my laptop and the internet allow me to complete some banking operations, plan an outing for the weekend and receive news from faraway friends, all this while remaining ensconced in the sofa.

I switch off the light, slip in bed and lie back on a mattress designed to suit my bodysize and preferred sleeping positions. The fridge’s hum bothers the quiet of the otherwise silent house. I wonder if there existed a gizmo to control sleep.