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It’s June 2004. You received your first cell phone today.

The phone is Y2K Grey, the glittering dolphin-skinned shade favoured for consumer electronics of the era. It’s a little brick with a nubbin antenna. It is just the right side to slip into the front pocket of a pair of low-rise jeans.

You are typing in all of your friends’ phone numbers one digit at a time: you memorized them years ago. You have chosen the best wallpaper to match your personality from the 6 available options: the fish, just like everyone else.

Once you finish adding all the phone numbers, you snap the phone shut and put it in your bag. It will stay there, untouched, for the next 3 days. That’s when you remember you’re supposed to charge it or something. When you do plug it in, there are no missed calls or notifications.

You are happy and free.

See also: They Might All Go to the Moon