Touching the video game console sent a chill running up my arm and straight to my spine. It felt as cold as a short visit to Pluto would. I longed to thaw the block of ice on my hand and to feel warmth after touching the machine. Taking a closer look at the console, which I did to sate my curiosity, did not reverse the deep freeze effect it had on me.
I noticed the machine had a clinical appearance; it was spotless, shiny and clad in all white. It worked assiduously and seemed detached from everything around it. The console seemed to run all day as if it was plugged into an outlet that was keeping it alive and feeding it energy. The sight of some thing with all those wires in it made me cringe; it reminded me of my mortality and fears of death. Overall, the machine’s non-stop work and coldness stunned me.
Suddenly, a ray shone through a nearby stained glass window and helped me to see the machine in a new light. The ray was bright red. It stained my hand like some damned spot that would not wash away — no matter how hard I scrubbed it. The red light bathed the console, made it seem warm, and made the machine seem like it had blood flowing through its chips, circuits and plastic. I never looked at the console in the same light again. My vision and my thinking had forever changed.