Our moderator Susan asked what we thought about chapter three and the silence was so thick you could spread it on toast. I just stared at my copy of "Moby Dick" like maybe the whale would jump out and start explaining the themes itself. That was the longest twenty minutes of my life, just the sound of the AC unit and someone’s stomach growling. We could have at least pretended to talk about the cover art.

Remember when a good facial was just about skilled hands and not a bunch of beeping boxes? Now it's all laser readings and digital maps, like we're navigating skin instead of feeling it. Pretty soon they'll have an app that tells you when to moisturize, and we'll forget how to use our own fingers. But hey, at least the machines don't call in sick.