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“Oh Emaileo, Emaileo! Wherefore art thou Emaileo?“, she cried, waving her mobile device, seeking attention from those passing by as she sat on a rusted park bench adjacent the maple & arbutus tree leaves turning red, orange and yellow.
“Where have you gone as I miss you so?”
As a seasoned executive in high-tech Fantasy Land, Ruliet was no stranger to change. In fact, she ate change for breakfast. Her King used to say, “Wow Ruliet, you may want to spread Ritalin on your toast in the morning.”
But, alas, Ruliet was undeterred.
She continued her quest to be on the bleeding edge of change. She couldn’t spell the word chasm if she tried.
One fine Spring day she heard of a Knight in the distant land of Spain named Sir Luis, who was venturing into the unknown. Many said he was headed for Apple Blackberry Forest, minus the red and omnipresent blinking light.
A world with no email.
“A world with no email sounds divine,” she proclaimed to her work companion Reality. “I’m certain to save myself hundreds of hours by ridding myself of this archaic annoyance.”
Reality retorted, “But Ruliet, what of your team, your followers, your social media direct mail correspondence, your notifications and your subscriptions? O! He doth teach the torches to burn bright.”
It was of no concern to Ruliet. Her mind was set. Her blasphemous inbox was no more. Torched.
And so, as quick as a King/Queen change at Pewlett-Hackardshire, Ruliet and Emaileo were a couple divorced.
Ruliet and Emaileo … untethered.
At first, life was splendid.
“For you and I are past our dancing days,” exclaimed Ruliet to anyone that would listen during a company offsite. “What’s in an email? That which we call information or knowledge by any other name would transfer as easily.”
But as the days grew long and then short again, Ruliet, ironically, felt disconnected.
She missed her Emaileo.
In a private moment with Reality, Ruliet remorsefully stated, “See, how he leans his message upon his hand! O that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that message once again.”
And now, finally, there was even a White Knight pledging support and an overhaul for Emaileo. A new and improved Emaileo. A character that knows the bounds of quantity, intent and purpose.
Realizing that she was disconnected and removed from the daily pulse of activity through her network, her notifications and asynchronous dialogue, Ruliet called out again for her first love.
“Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.” cried Ruliet, arms outstretched to Emaileo.
And so, after roughly six months of bleeding edge email-less interactions, Ruliet ran with the gust of gale force winds into the welcoming (but vastly improved) arms of Emaileo. There would be no life without Emaileo. The union would be perpetual. A partnership not about deceit and overburdens but of succinctness, clarity and focus.
As they walked through the park, Autumn leaves at their feet and hands clasped, Ruliet mused, “True, I talk of dreams, which are the children of an idle brain, begotten of nothing but vain fantasy.”
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