Leo spent the next hour scanning everything. The toaster. SN: 06-14-2019-TOAST-04. STATUS: DEPRECATED. The oak tree in the backyard. SN: 04-01-1972-OAK-09. STATUS: GROWING. END OF LIFE: 2031. The mailbox. The car. The neighbor’s kid’s bicycle. Everything had a serial number. Everything had a status. Active. Deprecated. Paused. Pending recall.
He lowered the remote. “It’s… it’s nothing.” He pointed it at the dog, sleeping on the rug. Serial Number Checker Switch
He pressed it again, this time pointing at his own reflection in a dusty mirror. Leo spent the next hour scanning everything
[SN: 04-21-1987-LEO-01] STATUS: ACTIVE. LAST SEEN: BASEMENT. NOTES: NO WARRANTY. FINAL SALE. STATUS: DEPRECATED
Leo’s hand trembled. He looked at the remote. Under the LCD screen, the rubber button had a secondary function he hadn’t noticed: a tiny slider switch labeled on the left, RECONCILE on the right.