I am standing in the middle of my room or perhaps to the side or sitting in a chair and all around me whisper the sleeping murmurs of appliances.
The mobile phone reclines on the desktop, nestled amidst a pencil case with a Santa design and protected by some empty bottles of red wine. It’s lights are off and it lies so silent and peaceful.
Also on the desktop rests the laptop and it’s mouse, attached umbilically. The mouse’s left side hugs the computer, sharing their electric warmth and energy. The laptop, lid closed, blinks a reassuring periodical wink for the mouse, which responds with a gentle blue glow of its own. They are a perfection of familial happiness.
Away from the desk, but overlooking sits the records player. Astride it’s speakers, it stands sentinel over the desk and it’s charges, imperious and wise. A light shines on it too, stolid and firm but not unkindly.
The stereo takes place next to the record player, red light small, diminishing, but present. An empty house perhaps, but one whose occupants have just left for supper, an evening of wine and fine laughter, to return warm and satiated ready to slide deep into sleep’s caress.
Perching on the disc cover of the stereo, curls the digital watch. Perhaps not the most gentle of sleepers but resting nonetheless. Seconds change as heartbeats, minutes as a breathing chest, and hours as a dreaming stir.
The appliances, family finally in their rest, lay quite quite calm. Not a buzz or whirr. There is an atmosphere of a circus after everyone has left; after all the elephants and trapeze artists and clowns have been fed, after the strong man has had his protein shake, after the ring leader has hung up his whip. Yes, it’s like that, like a circus, halfway in shadow and halfway in light.
But of what do they dream? Does the record player dream of it’s needle stroking a prized ‘For Women Only’? Does the watch dream of breaching the magical barrier, into twenty five o’clock and beyond? And the computer and mouse? Do they dream of the separation to come, of the inevitable parting, or simply of the pleasant sundays in between?
One thing alone is certain: these bolts and nuts, these blots of solder, these circuits and cogs, belt drives and lcd displays, wires and led’s; they all act synergistically and, in the depths of night, form a great singular breathe of electronic consciousness, unknowing in their un-stirring slumber.
They whisper to me but I whisper back, sleep tight my loves-