Skins, Sticky and Seared

Kabir stepped off the treadmill and peeled the iSkin off his bicep. He winced a little, anticipating the pain as the slim slab of translucent polymer came off. The workout had left his skin covered with a sheen of sweat, which intensified the hold of the special moisture activated adhesive that coated the iSkin’s back, it also made it trickier to take it off. He felt a little frustrated. The run hadn’t relaxed him as it usually did - he just hadn’t been able to hit the “zone”, that wonderful mental state of rhythm-infused calm that once attained, left you simultaneously exhausted and refreshed at the end of a long run. He’d particularly been looking forward to it today. Fridays were usually a day he gave himself off from his daily dose of treadmill torture but after the stress of the last week it had seemed like a good idea to try and unwind with a run.

Kabir glared down at the device lying limply in his palm…as if it were somehow to blame for it all. Not for the first time, the way the polymer molded itself to the contours of his palm, with a bottom corner kind of dripping off the outer curve of his thumb, reminded him of a Dali painting. He tweaked the top right corner to bring it back to a stiff rectangular shape and put it into his shorts’ pocket. “Switch to Soothing” he said half under his breath which was loud enough for the hyper-sensitive, hyper-micro-phone, on the iSkin, no larger in circumference than the end of a cigarette, to pick up his command. The device obediently switched playlists. As the music changed from Beyonce’s latest breathless hit to a calming Sade crooning “By Your Side”, he felt his shoulders finally begin to relax and some of the tension start leaking from his body. He was in dire need of some inspiration.

Finished with his 45 minutes of daily exercise, the most that his lazy self could tolerate on a regular basis, Kabir walked towards the locker room, stopping by the water cooler for a quick few re-hydrating gulps. He peeled off the Dot micro-phone from the side of his neck and pasted it into the circular slot at the back of the iSkin.

The fingers of his right hand, unconsciously rubbed his left bicep, now iSkin-less, a habit he’d first acquired after purchasing the latest generation device a year back. It had started with him being curious to see if it was true that the device really could power itself by soaking up body warmth and attach itself post-it-like to any surface that offered up even a hint of moisture – in this case sweat buds. The patch of skin, that had been covered by the Skin felt cooler and drier than the rest of the arm. He made a mental note to apply an extra dab of moisturizer on the area. He started walking tiredly up the City’s main drag towards the tram car stop a couple of blocks up. A movement across the road caught his eye. A couple was standing there – the man had been pointing in his direction. Kabir turned to look back and saw he was standing in front of the a storefront-size, unclad Abercrombie and Fitch model. That was probably what the couple had been looking at. He walked on.

Read Skins, Sticky and Seared - Part II