Back in December 2024, I wrote The Ashes of the Techs after becoming very aware of how screens were affecting elderly friends, family members — and really, everyone.
I hoped this short story would act as a wake-up call, showing what happens when technology stops being a tool and becomes a trap. It’s told through the eyes of children in a post-tech world, piecing together how the “Techs” lived, and how it all fell apart.
Maybe it’s even more relevant now than when I wrote it.
The Ashes of the Techs – Parts 1 & 2
(Composed by Tina Winterlik, posted December 8, 2024)
PART 1
EXT. FOREST CLEARING – NIGHT
A small fire crackles in the center of a dense forest clearing. Around it, a group of CHILDREN—ages 6 to 12—sit cross-legged, their faces flickering in the warm glow. They lean in close, speaking in hushed tones.
LILA
(whispering)
Papa says the Techs were the first ones. They started it all.
JAY
(skeptical)
The Techs? That’s just what old people say to scare us.
LILA
(shaking her head)
No, it’s true! They were obsessed with their screens. Couldn't stop looking at them. They even had rules for what to watch, when to look.
The group murmurs. One boy, BENJI, clutches a charred piece of wood like a talisman.
BENJI
(serious)
My grandma told me. She said, back then, everyone was a Techie. Even her. But then... it all broke. Everything. The screens, the cities, even the skies.
JAY
(snorting)
Grandmas always say the skies broke.
BENJI
(insistent)
It’s real! First, it was just small things. Phones, tablets. Then they needed bigger ones. Whole walls!
LILA
And those men… remember? The ones with the three screens?
The kids nod knowingly.
BENJI
(grinning)
Sports on one screen, news on another, and...
LILA
Movies. (grimly) Or games.
BENJI
(adding)
And they sat there, all day and night, eating, drinking, their big bellies sticking out. Never moving unless they had to.
JAY
(shaking his head)
That’s so gross.
BENJI
My mom said some of them barely even looked outside. Just switched between couch, chair, and bed.
LILA
(solemnly)
Until the storms came. And the quakes. That’s when it ended.
JAY
(leaning in, whispering)
What happened to them?
Silence, the fire pops and crackles.
BENJI
(softly)
Some died. Some lost their way. But a few… they stopped. Went sober. They threw the screens away and started over.
JAY
No one throws a screen away.
LILA
They had to. The cities were gone. Flooded, or too hot. No work, no food. They came here, to the forests.
BENJI
They learned how to live again. No screens. Just… fires like this.
JAY
(looking uneasy)
And now it’s just us. Right?
BENJI
(tilting his head)
Not just us. Some of the Techs are still out there.
PART 2
EXT. FOREST CLEARING – NIGHT
The firelight flickers, casting dancing shadows as a HOODED FIGURE clutches a cracked MONITOR like a lifeline.
LILA
It doesn’t work anymore.
The figure stiffens, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
HOODED FIGURE
(whispering)
Don’t come any closer. It’s mine. You don’t touch it!
The children exchange uneasy glances.
BENJI
(softly)
We’re not going to hurt you.
The figure rises abruptly, clutching the monitor like a shield. He stumbles backward toward the edge of the clearing, his voice frantic.
HOODED FIGURE
You don’t understand! I’ll fix it. I’ll save it. I’ll save you, baby.
LILA
(firmly)
You don’t need it.
The hooded figure’s breath catches, his voice raw with isolation and sorrow.
HOODED FIGURE
You’re wrong! It needs me! And I—I need it. It’s all I have left.
BENJI
(quietly)
But it doesn’t need you anymore.
The figure freezes; the words sink in. He almost gently traces the broken screen with trembling fingers.
Then, panic rises.
HOODED FIGURE
No! You can’t have it!
He bursts up and bolts into the darkness, clutching the monitor to his chest.
BENJI
(shouting after him)
Wait!
The snapping branches and hurried footsteps fade. The clearing grows still.
LILA
(whispering)
Do you think he’ll come back?
BENJI
(quietly, unsure)
I don’t know.
The camera pans out—firelight shrinking, the forest stretching endlessly around them.
FADE OUT
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