I was sitting in a strange three-sided box surrounded by several other boxes. A dull color, one I could not place, covered all of the walls.
I could hear the constant clamor of mouths, although I could not understand them. Their finely crafted dress robes appeared as though their names had been pulled in the lottery.
I pitied them, for I knew that they would soon die. I glanced away from my elders, and on a plastic desk in front of me, I identified a medium sized object I had never seen before.
The object had at least ten different buttons, was black, and box shaped. There was a white sheet of almost plastic like material loaded in it.
The one device I did recognize was the computer, though it was ancient.
It did not have face recognition, the ability to scan an object and 3D print it, nor could it hook up to the chip in my wrist. I soon remembered seeing the boxed shaped object in a museum.
It is what the ancestors called a printer. A printer was used to transfer ink onto a sheet of paper. As I was pondering the usage of a printer, I spotted a picture of a pensive looking family.
The mother looked worn out, as though the father was never around, and the father seemed to be hiding something.
It is so incomprehensible how our ancestors were so unable to recognize facial cues. I picked up the picture of the unhappy married couple and recognized the wood of the frame as oak.
I had remembered learning about trees in history class decades prior. I could never wrap my mind around why the past generations had wanted to cut them down.
They seemed as though they would be such an efficient way to obtain oxygen. I suddenly started to hear a beeping sound which I understood to be the antique phone ringing on the table. I woke up.