My refrigerator is a noodge. I stand there with an armload of groceries, trying to make everything fit and not bruise the asparagus, and the thing puts out this rapid, high-pitched little beep beep beep. The cheese drawer’s full, the pie crust is melting, the too-long-leftover Hollandaise sauce is sending out biohazard warnings, and still… Continue reading Smart machines, raging writer
Stories from the South and the subconscious