Wales Healthcare
Your hairs are being numbered
A tweet is not amen? Maybe I should ask God to follow me? —Or—I should follow Him?
…Social media must be beyond me. Or maybe it’s behind me and I’m in front of it, running ...? Or —? Maybe it’s beneath me, I’m superior to it. —Or, am I beneath it—it’s up there in the clouds, blocking the sun. Everything’s getting dark ... I’m feeling my way ... vertigo ... can’t tell up from down.
There it is. Off my left shoulder! It’s right beside me all along. Oh. Well, it’s a comfort is it not? Some kind of friend? One—like God—you can reach out to at any moment?
I bet social media can tell exactly the number of hairs on my head. I think there’s an algorithm for that now, isn’t there? You show the A.I. /algorithm a TikTok selfie of your head from above, and it counts your hairs for you. It counts your follicles. If you get naked and 3-D it counts every pore and follicle on your body. Just like it says in scripture about God. Except for the artificial part and the er baptizing babies in Gatorade.
High-def is getting so good at magnification that by the time you read this it’ll be able to get your selfie numbers on skin cells. This could be useful in having the right skin-care products dropped from clouds beside the porch door. Or outside the apartment complex waiting for you when you arrive from the virtual world.
Plus, it helps with housekeeping to get the precise cleaning aid for spring cleaning because—did you know?—house-dust is mostly cat dander and/or minute human skin flakes. Those dust bunnies under the bed? —made of you. The selfie will become high definition enough to show your molecules.... High-def will soon make us into walking psychedelia, atoms and all.
... Hmmm. We’ll know our own content in numbers to the exact subatomic particle. Way more than six hundred and sixty-six. Right? No. That can’t be right.... Like God, moZon or BaseFoot will know this stuff—not us. This info will be needed to get the right atomic adhesive to me should I begin deteriorating ... actually, much as I am now. I’m getting rather old. Beginning to dissolve, I think. That’s why social media is beyond me. And why it’s better that I myself not know precisely what I’m made of. Or for. Algorithmic precision has taken care of all that for me. However unlike with God, Who does not body-shame, harass or bully, or turn me into merchandise, I don’t have to think about it, know about it, or even believe in it.
Yes. That’s going to be my approach from now on.
The hairs on my head are all numbered for me, my molecules, everything—
But no thinking—! Thanks be to the Cloud! Thanks be to moZon and BaseFoot, TikTok, X!! Amen.
Can I get an amen?
(Please do not tweet.)
(No. Really don’t do it.)
(No, really. Don’t follow me. I’m trying to hide.)
© S. Dorman 2024
Also From the desk of Decimus Junius Juvenalis the juvenile reporter.