After listening to a podcast on the importance of sleep, Abigail finally gives in to getting a smartwatch. She hopes the smartwatch will help her curb her wine habit by showing her how much it affects her sleep.
The watch arrives. That evening she skips her glass of wine, cognizant she is now being tracked.
She wakes up feeling refreshed. Excited, she checks her sleep stats. "Oh, only six hours." Her mood sours.
But she has other things to worry about today; she's hosting a party. She scurries about. Her watch chimes, congratulating her on her movement so far. "So many steps, just cleaning and grocery shopping." She feels glad about this, and she is glad for this gladness, as it offsets her pre-party nervousness.
She sets out an abundance of food and drinks, lights the candles. Everything looks perfect. Too perfect? She takes a photo and sends it to her family, trying to share a glimpse of her life. Her sister has kids. It's hard to compete with cute kid photos, but she tries.
The guests arrive. She busies herself fixing her guests drinks.
Eventually everyone settles in. She relaxes. A friend introduces her to someone she hasn't met before. She forgets his name immediately, but not his eyes. When his eyes lock with hers, it feels like they’re the only people in the flat. They drift to a corner. Though they talk about all the same topics always discussed—Berlin and Buddhism, IFS and effective altruism, war and hope—with Martin it feels different. Slowly she starts to share her real self—the self she really is, not the one she expects people will accept. She's telling a story she's never told before when—
Watch, speaking loudly: “Searching for ‘San Francisco.’"
She blushes, humiliated. What had she said to set that off? She hunts through the settings for mute. She turns it on and never turns it off again.
In about an hour the spike of cortisol finally leaves her bloodstream. Martin—she finally remembers his name—is leaving. He says he's had a great time, would she like to take a walk in the park?
Yes! Yes.
It's late by the time she gets to bed. She takes off her watch to avoid having to know how much sleep she won't get tonight, buzzed and lying in bed dreaming of Martin.
They meet in a park midway between their neighborhoods. As they walk, the conversation picks up where they left off. It's effortless, it's never felt so effortless with anyone before. She’s lost in the flow, laughing, sharing her private heart, when—
Her watch vibrates. She pulls her gaze away from him to check.
Watch: Do you want to record a workout?
She's turned off all the notifications she can, but she can't seem to turn off the prompt to record a workout.
Anyway, Martin is saying something. She reorients to his voice, catching the last bit of what he is saying.
They reach the end of the walk. He reaches out and hugs her. No kiss...?!
He leaves and she stays at the park checking her phone for a while, distracting herself from her disappointment. She taps her watch, confirming it to record her walk. At least she got some steps in.
In the evening she has a glass of wine. After rewriting the message a dozen times, she messages Martin: "Hey was fun walking at the park. Want to grab dinner sometime this week?"
She had turned off all notifications across devices to try to get her watch to stop vibrating, but she turns on notifications once more so she will be alerted as soon as he replies.
Her phone vibrates. Martin? Her pulse races.
No, it's just her phone. It's updated and there's a new native app available, a journaling app. Would she like to try it? Sure. After all, the podcast recommended journaling, it's supposed to be like free therapy. She taps yes, and allows app notifications.
Dinner goes well. They go back to Martin's place. He offers her a drink. They sit on the couch. Martin leans in. He kisses her. It's connected, it's passionate, it’s—
Her watch vibrates. She glances at it.
Watch: 10% battery. Charge immediately.
She tears the watch from her wrist and refocuses on this moment she’s been so long awaiting.
Weeks pass. Her watch says she gets worse sleep at Martin's, so she excuses herself back to her place instead of staying over.
The relationship begins to cool. What started as a rushing river of texts is now a dribble.
They mutually decide to see other people. Or, he brings it up and she agrees, as if she was thinking that already.
But she wasn’t thinking that already. What she was thinking about was the podcast ad for a mattress pad that allows for each person to adjust the bed temperature to their preference. Maybe her sleep score would be better at his place then?
They fully break up a few weeks later. She figures a sleeping pad wouldn’t have saved their relationship anyway.
She rides the subway after the final breakup talk when her phone vibrates. Martin? Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he—
No, it's the journaling app prompting her with the photo she took the evening of the party.
Phone: Here's a memory. Do you want to journal about it?
Love this :') All the times gadget stuff has melted into my relationship anxiety without my consent, it happened just like this. You expect to hear from them, but the notification is for something else.
I enjoyed the flow and the pacing and the way you did twists. The narrative is cut with a distraction from the gadget and we don't get to fully live the exciting moment it's building up to, it just skips over it, but the anxious, depressive moments endure.
So easy to ignore gadgets when we're high on happiness, comforted by company, and it's so easy to fall into their despair when we're alone and numb.
😭😭😭😭😭😭