Joe awoke (slept +1). He had woken up with a thought that he very much wished to entertain.
He saw a text from Claire and told himself he’d respond in a moment. He brought up the app, went into its settings, found the Mute setting and checked it. The hollow box turned dark.
“What?” Joe had not expected the setting to change, as the Widen setting hadn’t. “No way. This won’t work,” he thought.
Joe knew precisely how to test it. He loved instant gratification.
The text from Claire: “drones! so simple yet effective! but invisible? i went outside this morning when it was still mostly dark and i saw no lights! i came back inside REAL quick though”
Joe composed a reply. He hit the Send button.
A moment passed. No notification.
Joe would “wait for it”, recalling Watch’s words. He placed his phone down on the dresser and showered (he didn’t actually need to after his shower the night before), brushed his teeth and combed his hair. He heard his phone vibrate against the dresser. “There it is,” Joe said.
He checked his phone. A reply from Claire.
And that was all. No other alerts. Zero from Stats.
Joe looked up.
He gave his ceiling the finger.
Joe checked his texts. Claire had responded to his last message wondering how his Mute test went. He wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t seen any drone lights. He had never seen them in large abundance either. Only the few times when they somehow manifested themselves into the visual realm, like last night. He told Claire that the Mute setting worked, and that he wished he could give her his copy of the app. She could probably use a Mute setting herself.
Receiving no Stats alert for the sent text felt odd, but nice. He decided to keep the Mute setting enabled for the day. Joe did not fail to recall how foreboding Watch’s alert was, and he would assume that the Mute setting only controlled the alerts, not the events of his life. His drone had access to those no matter what. He remained on guard.
He jumped into his car and drove for some food. He had a meal. No alerts. It had almost felt like his life returning to normal. Joe waited for it.
He rubbed his eyes. “**** these allergies,” he cursed. He went into the restaurant’s bathroom. He walked to the sink and washed his hands and rinsed out his eyes. He looked into the mirror.
Different eyes stared back at him.
They were his eyes. But they were brighter in color. Joe liked to think that he knew just what shade of brown his eyes had been his entire life of owning them.
He also noted that they were still itchy, despite his rinsing.
The possibilities rolled in his mind like the wheel on The Price is Right. Including the possibility that he just had allergies and that he was imagining things. Joe rinsed his eyes out again and went back out into the world.
“Bingo +4; now what 444 [Ok] [Go to Stats app]”
Joe felt the urge to retch, but he resisted it. He would not look into a mirror for the rest of the weekend.