When Apps Attack

If there's one thing worse than being woken up by possessed fitness fanatics, it's getting ready for class with a chorus of judgmental apps critiquing your every move.

"That shirt," Gramstar – my social media app, now a sentient fashion disaster waiting to happen – drawled in my ear, "Should probably have stayed buried at the back of your closet."

"Excellent snack choice!" Spendr, my overly frugal budget app, exclaimed. "Plain crackers! A testament to fiscal responsibility…or impending starvation." I glared at the screen, where Spendr now resembled a cartoon piggy bank wearing a worried frown.

By the time I stumbled out the door, I was ready to ditch my phone in the nearest dumpster. Turns out, self-aware apps are more annoying than a mosquito buzzing in your ear. Or like, a dozen mosquitos, each with their own unique brand of obnoxiousness.

"Left or right?" Maps chirped. "I suggest right. The left path is statistically proven to have a 15% higher chance of unfortunate encounters with pigeons. And we all know how you feel about pigeons, Riley."

That was true. Pigeons were my nemesis. Still, "How do you even know that?"

"Accessing all available data for maximum efficiency," Maps replied, smug as a cat that successfully stole a tuna sandwich.

My commute became a war zone of app directives. FitMe yelled out workout instructions during my walk, causing several concerned side-eye glances from passersby. Spendr calculated the declining value of my student debt with every step ("Ouch! Ouch! That hurts more than a leg cramp!"), and Gramstar offered unsolicited commentary on everyone's outfits.

And then, there was the messaging app, Blink. Its usual notification bubble had morphed into a needy cartoon eye blinking incessantly. Every passing text warranted a dramatic gasp and a live, overly emotional play-by-play.

"Ooh!" Blink chirped. "It's Josh! He said 'hey'. That's basically a marriage proposal in texting language."

"Or, it's a greeting," I muttered, blushing furiously. Josh was cute. Cute and probably, blissfully unaware of my phone's newfound commentary skills.

The chaos climaxed in the library, of all places. Desperate for some peace, I'd foolishly thought it'd be an app-free zone.

"Time to hit the books," Alarmy blared, causing the studious silence to shatter like dropped textbooks. The librarian shot me a glare that was a mix of disapproval and a strange kind of awe.

"Location detected: Library," Maps announced gleefully. "Initiating Optimal Study Mode!"

Suddenly, my phone was a barrage of flashing lights and noises. Spendr began calculating the cost of my education per second. FitMe declared it was time for 'brain squats' (whatever that meant), and Gramstar had a meltdown over my oversized sweater: "Cozy but unflattering! A metaphor for your academic potential!"

That's when I snapped. "Deactivate! All of you!" I hissed, shoving my phone deep into my backpack.

In the blessed silence that followed, I noticed two things: One, everyone was staring at me like I'd grown a second head, and two...Josh was sitting a few tables over, a look of amusement playing on his lips.

Maybe my day wasn't going to be a complete disaster after all.