Modern Tamagotchi 

I was not a child of the internet. I did not spend a lot of time on YouTube or the like, so my exposure to the digital world was rather limited until I was around 12 (thankfully). The majority of my time was spent in a gym or fighting my siblings, so the power of the Technology Gods was repressed until Christmas of 2016.  

My parents were delighted to see that all four of their young kids were already up and going at it in the ripe hours of the morning, giddy to rip that sweet Santa wrapping paper to shreds (and have our father aggressively stuffing it in a trash bag before it could even dare hit the floor). Given that my internal clock was set about eighty years in the future, my Christmas list usually consisted of books, tea, and baking supplies after the age of eight. However, once all the gifts were passed around, we began anxiously picking them up, judging their weights and relative size to predict what may be contained within (realistically, we had already done this the night before, but we pretended for the spectacle of showbiz that we hadn’t been meddling around the tree at 4 a.m.). I honestly cannot remember what I got besides a medium size package, about the size of a book. I inferred that it probably was a book because I was in desperate need of a new fictional crush and because that’s really all I ever talked about. We did the whole round robin thing, and when it was my turn, I opened the present to reveal… a white box? I continued to open that box to find that- HOLY SHIT- I had received a brand-new Samsung tablet. My siblings fussed over this quite a bit as the younger ones were jealous that I was allowed such a gem, but I was elated. Infinite books in one place—what a dream!!!!  

For the next week of break, I spent my time tinkering away at the sheer power of the electronic, infatuated with the bright colors, mediocre camera and even better, swimming in the envy of my siblings. My gymnastics friends (who were much more seasoned in the expensive technology department) had told me to download an app called “my Pou” to take care of a digital pet. It wasn’t really a pet but a sort of triangular turd that you were required to feed, dress, entertain and wash. It was an incredibly benign yet repetitive task, but I had come to love it as though it had been my own genetic offspring. I spent far too many hours a day on the dopamine explosion that came from such a silly thing, desperate to spend every waking moment of my time caring for my digital Tamagotchi.  

Well, as all good things go, they must come to an unsweet demise. The following weekend, I had my annual sleepover with a bunch of gymnasts at my training center, spending the evening building forts and causing commotion as you can imagine a bunch of tweens with overactive amygdales would. As I was exiting the car to depart on the 14 hours of pure deviant behavior, my mother stretched a malicious hand towards me and said “Give me the tablet.” I stared in disbelief; what do you mean give you the tablet? “Juju, you’re going to break the thing if you take it with you. Leave it with me.” How dare you! My Pou, my precious Pou, he wouldn’t survive three hours let alone a whole night! My pleas were met with a cold face and unwavering determination; as much as I was bothered, I had to admit she was good.  

I passed her the tablet and said a silent prayer to whatever was above me “please keep my Pou safe.” 

Cue to the following morning. My mother arrived to pick my sister and I up after practice and I was overjoyed to know I would be reunited with my baby soon enough. I returned to my room and found my tablet waiting for me, all would be okay, I thought.  

To my HORROR, I open my Pou to find him shaking, emaciated, parched, and covered in his own feces. He looked at me with eyes that said, “How could you?” and I looked back pleading for forgiveness, something that never came.