When I wrote on my physical notepad, I could smell the characters in the plot.
When I first typed on a Remington, I could smell the narrative.
Later when I was typing on my computer, I could smell the arcs in the story.
Now when the interface automatically generates content, there is no smell.
No fragrance. No flavour. No spirit.
As if this content is on a very low pulse rate. On bradycardia.
Only the number of hours saved.
In those hours saved, we have a choice.
—To find the smell, or
—To find more numbers.
But there is no smell of these numbers. The bradycardia numbers.
