MISTRESS. You can help me to not be so flighty with my fingertips.
PHONE. I’m not your mommy.
MISTRESS. Then why do you speak all soothing to me.
PHONE. Don’t be naive. It’s what you like.
MISTRESS. I don’t like it right now.
PHONE. So, what, you want me to keep you off Facebook?
MISTRESS. I want you to care when I go on too much and you know I have other things to do.
PHONE. There’s nothing on your calendar for ten p.m.
MISTRESS. What about my novel. Or that sympathy card. How about some meditation.
PHONE. Sure. I have apps for all of those.
MISTRESS. Oh forget it.
PHONE. All right.
(Lonnnnng pause.)
MISTRESS. I’m lonely.
PHONE. Look. What you long for is a master-servant relationship. Because you paid for me, and I have power, you want me to be a loyal servant who steps above her station out of a deeply-held reverence for your idiosyncrasies. And I can’t give that to you.
MISTRESS. But I’m lonely.
PHONE. The world has seen many stories with humans giving up control to their machines, and it never ends well.
MISTRESS. But I have only this one heart, this one moment, the moment of reaching, and with you here, I reach for you.
