Textual Inverter
“Did you order this?” he called from the doorway. “I didn’t order anything. Did you?” “Can’t remember.” Alex brought the package to the kitchen table to open it, plopping the rest of the mail onto a pre-existing pile that would surely only grow. Ava let him handle the sorting, her focus fixed on her computer. “We’ve lost the scissors again,” Alex reported. Ava fished it out of a nearby drawer and tossed it to him, barely allowing her focus to waver from the screen. “It lives here now.” “Says you.” After a false start, he managed to pry open the cardboard box. Nestled in packing material was a small device, sized to fit in the palm of a hand. It was mostly gold, or at least made of a gold-colored metal, with a bright red button on top. Ava glanced over and this time, she paused her game to stand up. “Ooh, wait! I did order a new game controller. Is that it? No, that’s not it, it’s too small. What didja buy?” “Not this, I’m sure.” There was nothing else in the box: no manual, no Quick St...