CALLED
"Come," said the pencil to the boy, "and draw with me."
So the boy reached for the pencil, about to touch it to his sketch pad.
"But I can show you a three-hour drawing condensed into three minutes," said the Smartphone.
So the boy watched the drawing of a world map, complete with oceans, seas, and capitals, finished in three minutes.
"Come," said the paintbrush to the boy, "and paint a river with me."
So the boy picked up the paintbrush, about to dip it into the sky-blue watercolor paint.
"But I can show you a river in India, one in Alaska, and the largest waterfall in the world," said the Smartphone.
So the boy watched videos of the Rivers Ganges and Alsek, and clips of Victoria Falls tumbling 5,600 feet into volcanic dikes.
"Come," said the books, "and read about a lion that battles a witch and a ship's journey into heaven."
So the boy opened one, curled up on the couch and began reading.
"But I can give you the movie," replied the Smartphone, "and a soundtrack that stirs your soul."
So the boy closed the book, got up from the couch, sat at the counter, and watched the video.
"Come," called the trees and birds outside. "Climb us, and listen to us sing."
As the boy stepped outdoors, the Smartphone called, "But with me you can play a game where you scale mountains while dodging man-eating vultures." So the boy stepped back inside to play the game.
With his face glued to the Smartphone, the iPad next to him dinged: a text. The boy glanced at the message. Returning to his game, he heard a ping: an e-mail in his inbox. He read it and returned to his Smartphone, where a flashing Snapchat announcement obscured a bloodthirsty vulture.
Next to his iPad the pencil lay motionless, and next to the computer, the paintbrush untinted.
And beside his Smartphone, "The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe" lay with uncreased pages, the lion's roar stifled, the witch's cackle silenced, and the gate into Imagination closed.
Jill Thomas, of Plymouth, is a piano teacher and mother of three.
