Plugged

Can we watch something else?

It’s what’s on. You shouldn’t change it, that’s rude.

But he’s not watching.

You’re not watching either.

Technically. But I know it’s on.

So does he. Maybe it’s soothing.

It’s aggravating.

Why?

Why? That’s the question, isn’t it.

So answer it.

Ok. I will.

...

Fine, here goes. These people, they’re not doing anything. Nothing worthwhile. And yet, you’d never know that from listening to them. Every moment of their lives is so exciting, or heartbreaking. At least they play it that way for the cameras. You get the impression that their very lives hang on the balance of the next five minutes. The five minutes, which of course, take up twenty minutes of TV time.

Franklin looked over at his roommate. Mark had his laptop open to BuzzFeed, a listicle of pug dogs that Franklin had disgustedly scrolled through the night before, a listicle he had scrolled through until the end, scoffing and hating and yet finishing, eagerly rushing to the comment section to express his disdain. Mark’s eyes weren’t on the pugs, but rather his smartphone, as he loaded up Clash of Clans. He had just finished exclusively liking hot girls’ posts on Instagram, and now he needed to win virtual glory. Mark had turned to the History channel when he awoke.

Franklin had returned from his early morning bowel movement to find Mark getting ready to watch “Pawn Stars.” Franklin had already sat through an hour and a half of Sportscenter when this happened, meaning he knew a half hour of sports content well, and another half hour extremely well. He still made a peevish coughing noise of offense that Mark had not noticed. Franklin felt Mark never noticed his annoyances or passive-aggressive comments. Mark felt Franklin needed to stop wearing shoes in the house.

Franklin loaded up his Instagram feed, looking at Mark’s Likes with disdain and not liking anything he came across. Two of the pictures he did like already had triple digit likes, since they were posted by sorority girls he had known tangentially in college. Franklin refused to become part of the sea. He wanted his Likes to stand out, as they did in real life. Quinoa and ketchup embodied Franklin: too off the beaten path even for those who fought the current. He incorporated cultural norms in ways that went against the grains of normalcy. He was better than the heathens, especially the people who try to sell cars to Rick on “Pawn Stars,” instead of selling them themselves like everyone else does.

Mark ripped a bowl one-handed, and had moved on to a video on his iPad. Many men multi-tasked with two or three tasks. Mark’s record, though he didn’t keep of track of those things, was eight and a half.

Carlos, the third roommate, was asleep. He had a night job but maintained himself in pretty good physical shape for that one night a week he had off. He’d go to bars. Mark and Franklin would complain that his room smelled of sex, or that they heard him the night before when they were trying to watch videos on their computers- Netflix for Mark, torrents for Franklin. Carlos simply smiled when later in the week they’d complain about their personal lack of sex lives.