We used to resemble people, until we decided we were safer inside, where the air was always 73 degrees, and we never worried about money, only space. Purchases appeared on our desks whenever we woke up. For a time, the most popular commodity was Stuffed Trees©. Every time the store sold a billion Stuffed Trees© that oldies song, “Sinca-sigh-yo” would shoot out of the screen–didn’t matter if you were shopping at that store, didn’t matter what hour schedule you were syncopated for. After a while, someone bypassed their system and installed a complaint counter at the store. People began complaining just to see the numbers catch up with the sales.
The song stopped, and the trees continued to arrive in tinted browns and concrete whites; some no bigger than my nose. They didn’t really say or do anything. I’m guessing that’s what trees were like. In a blink of two, for some, maybe three generations, we lost our legs, but we were still happy. I read that the modern containments came with InstaVoice©. Soon some of us lost our index fingers, too. Of course, our arms went shortly thereafter. But those trees–what a mechanical genius!