The Evo Phone

Ten minutes to midnight, Evolution Tech towered ten stories high, brown shadows bouncing off its blue glass exterior as he neared the laboratory entrance.

“West, I'm happy to see you!” a female automated voice greeted.

“Hello, Janice!” West replied deeply.

Beep! West’s glass door slid, revealing a thick, metallic smell.

West breathed, “Thank you, Janice!” His slim frame crossed the doorway, dropping a blue tech bag on the table. He shrugged into a white lab coat.

A gray swivel chair seated West, scooting off to the storage bins. A fragile, thin screen gleamed, rocking in West's hands.

“Flick!” Ten blue fluorescent lights beamed, dust particles swarming the Evo phone.

Chills rippled across West’s hands, lowering the screen. “I hope this works!” he thought. The display met four screw holes. Click, click, click, click! West skated from the worktable, brown eyes brightening.

“Finally!” he gasped.

Thud! A blue electronic journal levitated from under the table, flopping beside the device. Several crisp white pages turned. Intricate notes and diagrams revealed West’s tedious work on the Evo phone. The pages ceased, landing on page 30. West hovered the book, initiating a hum, Janice documenting the screen installation onto the page. The final diagram was completed.

West murmured, “The Evo Phone will win!”

The gilded floor transported West to the office entrance, hands stemming from the glass wall, hanging West’s lab coat on the hanger.

Blue lights shuttered, dimming the lab with hums vibrating the glass. West approached the main entry, the foyer suddenly blackening to darkness. Minty air breezed against West’s temple, human-like. Glass creaked behind. West found his digital key in a back pocket, roughly opening the glass doors, revealing his Electron V. He hopped in the backseat, Janice strapping him in his seatbelt.

Bleep! “Five minutes to home, dear!” Janice exclaimed.

West leaned back, “This is heaven!” he thought. The vehicle cruised Evo road, slowly pulling up to West's modern studio. The front door flung open, streams of AC fogging the glass. West brushed the doorway, Janice storing his belongings on the wall, unmaking a neatly made floating bed.

West's eyes fused shut, his body slipping into limpness.

“Monday, 8:00 AM!” Janice calmly exclaimed.

The sheets unraveled, the bed easing West to the warm ground.

Janice mellowed, “Hello, West. My sleep monitor reads that you had a restful night! Today, your tasks are: Eat raisins and date oatmeal, and attend the office meeting at 9:00 AM.”

West swayed to the round glass table, chair pre-pulled by Janice. His nostrils tingled, mouth watering to a toasty smell. The spoon raised, “Here's a big bite, West!” Janice uttered. West gobbled the spoonful of oatmeal, smacking his lips, swallowing deeply. “This is good!” West thought. Minuscule Oats remained. West's stomach warmed, evoking a gaping smile.

At 8:25 AM, West occupied his grey bathroom. The shower dial, 45 degrees, shot cool water, striking his muscular temple, suds swirling down the drain. The water ceased, summoning a circular wardrobe rack near the front door. A white button-down shirt, slacks, and brown pointy-toed shoes appeared. West’s figure gleamed in Jancie's AI mirror.

“You look stunning!” Janice complimented.

West replied, “Thanks, Janice!”

Janice bot handed West his blue briefcase, opening the door to his Electron V. The passenger seat beckoned West to a massage. Five minutes passed.

Janice uttered, “You have arrived! Have a good day, dear!”

West’s footsteps pitter-pattered the gray walkway. A streakless door slid open, leading West up a glass staircase. West peered over the railing, spotting his luminous lab. “Was someone in my lab?” He thought. Voices reverberated through the sparkling glass, diverting West’s focus. He sauntered the remaining steps, nearing an expansive second-level meeting room. West stood tall, strutting through the door threshold to a dustless oak table. A black desk chair rattled across the floor. West sat in modernity, eyes circling the blue and grey-accented room. The clock ticked. Ten minutes passed, sending West to finger-twiddling.

“Janice, where is everyone?” West asked.

Janice replied, “They are down the hall; they'll enter shortly!”

Heels and soles clanked across the glass catwalk. West shuffled, neck jerking to the boisterous hallway. Chattering suit-dressed women and men flooded the room.

Boss Lance presided, “Hello West, this is Stan Maxstein, your opponent”

West's eyes widened, the presence of evil penetrating his spine.

A tall, long-legged, brown skinned male parted the group, clinching a mint coffee in his right hand. He sauntered to West, gesturing with his left hand for a handshake.

West stiffened, sweaty hand merging with Stan’s, fake smile retracting in a split second.

Stan projected, “Me and West know one another well, very well!” He grinned at West, targeting his eyes.

West’s face hardened, scowling at Stan’s haughty strut.

Stan circled the room, gripping a chair from the head of the table. He settled, suit extending to the seat edges, fumbling the lever to accommodate his height. He grinned at West.

A lump clogged West's throat, eye contact piercing his soul. “He grinds my gears!” West thought. Boss Lance smiled, lines forming, accepting a tablet from Janice, levitating the airy room.

“Turn off the lights, Janice!” Lance commanded Janice.

An ambient glow settled in the room. A presentation emerged on the wall, displaying a slide, “Competition Overview!” Boss Lance stood to the right of the wall.

He announced, “The second tech competition will be in the grand event room. Each contestant will have their display. Five judges will rate the inventions based on uniqueness, ease of use, and innovativeness. The winner will receive a partnership with Global Tech, an illustrious tech company in Evoville. Your inventions will be in stores worldwide!”

West stared at the screen, heart pounding, side eyeing Stan. Stan propped his feet on the table, thick fingers intertwined with a wide smile.

He stared at West's stiff eyes. “We've got competition!”

Boss Lance stepped to the table, “You men will do fantastically!”

The lights slowly brightened to infectious smiles across the room. Stan backed from the table, raising his thick frame. Stan’s creaseless suit sparkled at his departure, recessing to the catwalk with his uppity entourage.

West gasped. He slung his blue suitcase around his neck, shuffling to the immaculate catwalk, down the glass staircase. An event-planning crew roamed the main level, decorating the massive event room. “I hope I win,” he thought.

The main doors parted, revealing a gray walkway, guiding West to his haven, the Electron V.

Five minutes later, West settled in his studio, unclothed at his glass table. A large BLT sat before him, tomatoes dripping tangy juice.

West gripped the sandwich, “Chomp, Chomp, Chomp.” He greedily indulged in large bites, scarfing it down, beverageless.

West chewed roughly, eyes fixated on a white wall. A flashback possessed his soul.

West sauntered onto the stage, standing before the Care phone.

“ZZZZZZ,” electricity sparked aimlessly.

West collapsed, covering his face, trembling at the upheaval.

Boom! Smoky remnants splattered, pinning West against a white wall.

Stan anchored over West, sadistic laugh blaring, “You lost! Muahhhhhh!”

Stan's callous crew chanted, “You lost, You lost, You lost, You lost!” Tears washed West’s steaming skin.

“West!” Janice yelled.

West flinched instantly, tears flowing, scattering food across the table.

“I'm sorry! He gasped, "I have to get myself together.” West's head flopped in his hands.

Janice exclaimed, “Okay, let me know if you need anything.”

West sniffled, cleaning the mess, placing the shattered plate in the garbage.

West roamed the house, tending to his attire. His creased blue suit straightened into flatness. A pair of brown dress shoes shone under heavy breaths. Rehearsal for the big event was West's remaining feat. Brown eyes focused on a tablet, brain constantly absorbing notes until 8:00 PM. The sunlight faded to roaring cricket chirps. West glanced at the bed, mesmerized by the moonlight hovering over the sheets.

Janice darkened the tablet, guiding West to the chilled bed top, pulling the sheets to his neck. West sank into a restful cloud.

“Beep!” Rise and shine, West!” Janice exclaimed.

West rubbed his eyes, meeting trapezoids of sunlight beaming through the bed window. West rolled over, scooting out the wrinkled covers to the bathroom.

“Woosh, ” Sink water streamed, followed by a wooden toothbrush gliding its bristles. West smiled, parting the slim mirror.

“Flick!” The shower faucet burst on, showering West swiftly. Twenty minutes passed. West dried off, dressing tediously in his tightly woven blue suit and tie.

“Good luck, West! You got this.” Janice exclaimed.

The front door flung open, frigid breeze whipping against West's axe-smelling skin. He strutted down the cracked driveway, entering the car. The engine revved, purring down the noiseless avenue. Five minutes later, the vehicle reached the office’s sidewalk. High-pitched audibles reverberated through the glass facade, revealing men and women chatting with dry voices. West jumped from the car, swiftly passing people up the cement pathway. Chanting increased, West peered right, recognizing Stan’s supporters, holding neatly decorative signs. West blinked sharply, refocusing on the facade with a strut. The event room surfaced, with balloon arches and red streamers. West trudged through, air rocking the decorations as he strutted to a bright display case. Notes reflected his pupils one final time in a fast murmur until a microphone squealed on the stage.

“Come in!” a tall, slim, white lab-coated male announced.

The exterior event hall doors slid, welcoming the erratic crowd. The group divided into small clusters, hastily locating their seats. Lights beamed on the Stage, complementing the host’s dewy skin.

He projected, “Hello, everyone. I am your host, Dave Mackson. Today West and Stan will present their inventions!” Please have a seat, we’ll start shortly.”

The host fiddled with the mic backstage, leaving the crowd twiddling and doom-scrolling their devices. He returned minutes later, jumping sporadically, amping the crowd.

The microphone projected, “Stan Maxstein, you're up!” He announced.

The jumbo screen recorded Stan, straightening his beloved suit and tie, blinking his green eyes. West trembled in place, nails tapping the glass display.

Stan raised his phone, announcing, “I present the Excel Phone!”

“Gasp,” the audience gasped.

A ray of white light bounced off the phone's silver exterior, highlighting its paper-thin sleekness.

Stan spoke, “The Excel phone is extraordinary. The camera zooms 100x more than a standard camera. Stan focused the camera on a blue willow, zooming into its inner anatomy. Mouths dropped, twitching acutely.

A woman in the audience exclaimed, “Oh my god, I'm a photographer, and my camera does not do that!” She gripped her face.

West glanced at the woman, then back at the Jumbotron. His legs rocked, pressure tightening his ankles. The audience rose from their chairs, palms reddening after hard claps. The host sauntered the stage, concluding Stan’s demonstration.

Host Mack focused on Stan, smiling enormously, “Your presentation was impeccable!”

The audience clapped, trance entering the ears.

“West, you are next!” Host Mackson uttered. West picked up the Evo phone, raising it in the air. The jumbo screen fixated on him.

The crowd gasped, West darting his eyes erratically.

West spoke shakingly, “I present the Evo phone, which cares for humans daily.”

West pointed the phone at a human-like wounded test dummy.

Beep! Janice sweetly projected, “This patient has superficial wounds that do not require medical assistance. Clean the wound with cool running water or saline solution, followed by a bandage. The healing process may take 1-2 weeks. Itching may occur. I will monitor your cut on the health app, so you won't have to disturb the bandage. I hope I have satisfied your request.”

Statues formed the audience. West glanced around, eyes squinting. He turned to Stan, grumbling at his maniacal grin. West's eyes shifted, widening to an egregious mess. The Evo phone, undeniably astounding, leaked its internals, green liquid seeping on top of the display case. West's bottom lip dropped, freezing before the unwavering spectators.

Mackson echoed the mic, “West, is everything okay?”

“Uh, uh!” West stuttered, lips quivering, tension bottling the throat.

The constant stares permeated the vicinity, drenching West with salty sweat. Brown shoes skidded on the waxed floor, isolating West in the hallway.

“No!” he yelled, rattling the surrounding glass interior.

West cupped his warm face, tears flooding the palms. Sniff, sniff! A sweet smell rubbed under his nose. Mint!” he thought. “I don't eat mint! “That asshole stan attended the meeting with mint coffee! He probably drowned my phone with that green shit!” The event hall doors creaked. West's eyes shifted, noticing a gray-suited businessman.

“Calm down!” the man stated.

West analyzed the man, reading a white name tag: “Steve Rustleton, CEO of Transcend Tech.”

“Your invention is remarkable…” West ignored Steve, listening to heavy footsteps, slamming around the corner. Stan appeared, leaning by a glass wall, grinning at West and Steve.

West's brows furrowed. “Hey!” he yelled, marching to Stan. He continued, “You destroyed my phone, didn't you!”

Stan giggled, “Who’s to say?”

West's blood boiled, his hands trembling with redness.

“My office light was on the other day! You were in my office, weren’t you!” Stan stood plain faced.

West asked again, “Were you there the night I worked on the Evo phone?”

“West turned from Stan, bombarding his office, air stirring up a sweet smell from the metal trash can. He paused, looking at the garbage.

“Look through it!” he thought.

West hovered the trash, ruffling snotty Kleenex and food rinds from the wet trash bag.

A Starbucks cup, mint green interior, pelted the ground.

“Ah ha!” West raised his voice, eyeing the dirty cup.

West screamed, raising from the trash, “Stan is a fucking sabuteur!” The leaky

Starbucks cup dangled from West's right hand in the air. West scowled at Stan, thudding the wall with the container.

Stan moved from the wall, sauntering to West, “I damaged your phone because the partnership is mine, you crybaby!” Spit flew in West's face. West's skin wrinkled, eyes widening.

West yelled, pointing at Stan, “Spit in my face again and I will kick your ass!”

“Okay, you two, stop it!” Steve yelled, intervening with shaky hands.

Stan mocked West, “Do it!” Spit pelted West again.

West's vision blackened, brain rattling with rage.

He yelled, neck sucking in, “You son of a bitch!” Pow! Stan gasped, stumbling backward, holding his face, collapsing to the floor.

Heavy footsteps pittered the hall floor; event attendees swarmed, gasping with blinking phone cameras.

“Ahhhhh!” West roared, pouncing Stan, slapping him back and forth, splattering trash everywhere.

Stan begged, “Get off me!”

West yelled, “No, I've wanted to kick your ass for a long time, you son of a bitch!”

Steve hovered the two, trembling to pry them apart. Stan kicked Steve in the gut, knocking him against a glass wall.

“Gasp,” Women and men uttered.

“Security, security!” A man called out.

Security stormed the mayhem, a tall guard hovering over West’s monstrous body, yanking him to his office.

The short guard dragged Stan down the trashed hall.

“Ya lost, ya lost, West!” Stan taunted, heels slamming into a nearby laboratory.

“Fuck you!” West yelled, wiping spit from his face and lips.

West continued to spew obscenities, shallow breaths as he charged to the exterior. The competition was over.

Four desolate weeks passed, and the living room sheltered the jobless West. The brown suede couch comforted his slim frame, soaking sorrows and repugnant odor as he mindlessly watched action movies, scarfing cool ranch Doritos and grape Fanta. West’s phone was lifeless. Visitors met thick cobwebs, clumped in the porch's dusty corners. One sunny day, West woke up, crinkling the rubbish on his lap. “I've had enough!” he thought. West staggered to the kitchen, black under-eyes puffy with fluid. A grape soda popped, trickling down his mucus-throated.

Beep! Janice softly uttered, “Surprise!”

“What, Janice?” West yelled, choking on soda.

Janice barked, “Get dressed, we’ll talk later!”

A white buttoned shirt with black pants ruffled, covering West’s hairy figure.

“Vroom!” the Electron engine purred. West hopped in the car, embarking on a ten-minute drive, barreling to a green, manicured lawn downtown. Loud voices collided with bird chirps, echoing against the car's exterior. The door swiftly opened. West placed his right foot outside, easing towards a red-cloaked usher in the wispy air.

“The stage awaits!” The usher uttered, pointing to the stage.

West slowly ascended the stage, eyes bulging at an EVO phone look-alike. His steps faltered, blinking sharply at the device, a jumbo screen broadcasting his tremors.

“That’s my phone!” West thought, shaking towards the crowd.

West gasped, acting professional, “Hello everyone, Im West Hunkerfield and this is my invention, the Evo phone. The device detects wounds and gives appropriate healing.”

The phone passed through the crowd, landing near an injured gray-dressed woman with a cast on her right arm.

The Evo phone informed the woman, “Your bone fracture is nearly healed. Please continue to wear your compression, and you will be healed within three months!”

“This phone is smart!” The Woman shouted, her hand covering her chest.

The phone continued to surf the crowd, inducing smiles and curiosity. West froze, cheeks spreading with a rosy red.

“Round of applause!” A familiar voice blared into a microphone.

West peered to the right of the stage. Steve Rustleton, grey suit against caramel skin, sauntered towards West.

A firm voice uttered, “You made it West!”

Mr. Rustleton calmly spoke, “ I recognized the brilliance of your design, and I couldn’t let Stan stop you!”

West's eyes watered, lips rumbling.

Rustleton inquired, “So would you join Transcend Tech?”

“Work with you? Transcend Tech? Yes, I'd be happy to!” West uttered.

Steve's right hand extended, gripping West’s warm hand. Cheers echoed in the area, photographers storming to the stage. A camera flashed, capturing West’s and Steve’s triumphant handshake.

Streamers and balloons floated in the air, gliding over the boisterous crowd. A blue balloon flew alone. West glanced up, reading, “I'm proud of you, West!” from Janice. West met success, selling countless Evo phones worldwide. Evoville roamed healthy and happy.