LOT 0015-6 — necklace/wristband; user-preferred colors; latex, aluminum, stretchable circuit board; Bluetooth; Li-ion battery coming in 2020

How it works:

LOT 0015-6 allows a user to get connected with another user in the network. The algorithm will assign a signal to someone in the community.

There are two ways to use the device:

Call — put the device around your neck. Wear it. To call, hold the device firmly in your palm and a signal will be sent. After a moment you will feel a vibration coming from another user in the system — you are being connected.

Answer — fasten the device around your wrist. Wear it. Be prepared. At some point you will feel a vibration (typically about 2-3 times per day). This is an actual user “calling” for you. To answer, grasp it with your other hand until vibration ceases.


Script:

Jo — Commonwealth St, Los Angeles, Saturday, June 29, 5:18PM — still really bright outside. But it’s hard to tell that from inside the apartment. Her street is conveniently placed for Saturday night party parking. There is no difference between workdays or weekends in LA... at least for her. The distant sounds of laughs and doors slamming are the only way she recognizes that it’s Saturday. She’s always staying in.

This 38/360 pack was very different from the 37 she had received before. And she has counted them all. For her, that’s the only way to keep time.

There was no packaging, no clothes, no vitamins, no tickets, not even socks this time (she missed the socks the most). Instead, it was a black semi-transparent object. She had seen it before, here and there. She saw someone on Twitch showing off a tattoo of that symbol. Then there was that weird meetup in Hong Kong where Toby was already wearing it. “Now it’s my turn” — she guessed — “LOT knows,” she said out loud.

More people park outside. There's excitement.

Maybe because she has spoken with only 3 people in the past 5 months, maybe because last Saturday was just yesterday, or maybe because she realizes that it’s been 38 times already — Jordana feels that fucking spike again. It’s neither sad nor happy; it’s just that weird brief spark of self-realization. You know, like seeing yourself from a distance.

She puts the necklace around her neck and firmly embraces the seafoam surface of the device with her hand. A few seconds later, a benevolent vibration comes back and makes her hand unclutch.

No questions asked, no terms, no favors, no doubts. Someone is finally on her side.

Sam — Greenwood Rd, London, Sunday, June 30, 1:18AM — darkness. Sam is invited to the re-opening at Studio 3, and she is really late. Desperate to catch up with some friends, she decided to stop looking for a parking spot and park right here on this tiny street 10 minutes away from the place. Convenient. It’s one of those warm, quiet, dark and really beautiful nights. She froze to let the moment stick. “Sam, are you coming!?” — they shouted from the distance, laughing.

She was looking forward to this weekend, counting days and hours. She woke up at 7:15 today. Morning routine — all ivory toiletries, of course (even the bathrobe is beige). Coffee. LOT 0122/MARU from the 22nd pack seemed appropriate. She wanted to celebrate the morning.

Sam was dressed before 9; her car was summoned from the garage at 9:20. Last Tuesday she decided to finally use that Manning’s Wood ticket, and now, 3 days later, she was heading to Kent. She didn't pack; it was only for a few hours anyway.

“What a day!” — she thought while trying to keep up with her friends. She didn’t want this Saturday to end. Sundays are the worst!

She is dancing now. She knows the night is about to die, but she’s been enjoying each second of it. Little sad, little happy.

The Key on her left wrist starts to vibrate. It is intense (as usual), but not like a scream; more like a quiet plea. She hugs it with her right hand behind her back, still dancing, smiling, with her eyes closed. A few seconds later it is calm again.

“You’re not alone,” she whispers.


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