In a quaint, tech-obsessed enclave nestled in the heart of Silicon Valley, there existed a breakaway society known as the Orchardites. These fervent followers of all things Apple had turned their community into a veritable shrine to the tech giant. Every street was lined with posters of the latest iPhone, MacBook, and Apple Watch, and each house was adorned with custom Apple logos, sometimes even etched into their very foundations.
ohhh, you're one of those orchardites
— 𝕏 Darbe (@Darbe) January 12, 2025
The Orchardites lived by a strict code: critique, compare, and complain about every conceivable aspect of Apple’s products. Weekly meetings were held in the Grand Apple Pavilion, where members would gather to dissect the latest updates, lament over the removal of headphone jacks, or debate the ethics of planned obsolescence.
Their society was so engrossed in these discussions that they couldn’t see the forest through the trees—literally. Their town was surrounded by a beautiful, dense forest, teeming with life, but they were too preoccupied with the minutiae of their gadgets to notice or care.
One day, an outsider named Mira, who had wandered into the town seeking directions, made the mistake of voicing her amusement at the fervor. “Do you realize how ridiculous you sound? This is just technology, not the meaning of life,” she remarked, half-laughing as she watched a heated debate over the color options for the new iPhone.
The reaction was swift and severe. The Orchardites, not used to such blatant disregard for their sacred discussions, erupted in anger. “Sacrilege!” they cried, their faces contorted with fury. Mira was quickly escorted out, but not before being pelted with outdated Apple products, symbolizing their utmost disdain.
As time passed, the isolation grew. The Orchardites became more insular, their language evolved into a dialect rich with tech jargon, and their social interactions revolved solely around Apple product critiques. Their obsession reached such heights that they began to physically change; their eyes became narrower, focusing only on screens, and their fingers elongated for better interaction with touch devices. They were, in essence, evolving into a new species, one that could no longer appreciate the simple beauty of the world outside their self-imposed digital cage.
A young Orchardite, named Leo, who had always felt slightly out of sync with the rest, began to question this lifestyle. He ventured into the forest one day, initially to escape the incessant bickering over whether the new Apple Pencil was truly innovative or just a rehash. What he found was an awakening. The forest was alive with sounds he’d never heard, colors he’d never seen on any screen, and a peace that no app could replicate.
Returning to the town, Leo tried to share his experience, hoping to broaden their perspectives. “There’s so much more out there than our complaints,” he proclaimed. But his words fell on deaf ears, and worse, he was seen as a heretic, a betrayer of the Orchardite way.
The society, now almost alien in their single-mindedness, could no longer comprehend the beauty of simplicity or the folly of their obsession. They were so caught up in the digital that they missed the analog joys of life, blind to the irony that in their quest for technological perfection, they had lost sight of what it meant to truly live.
Thus, the Orchardites continued, a cautionary tale of a society that couldn’t see beyond their screens, where the forest, with all its natural wonder, remained unseen, and the trees, symbolic of life’s broader joys, were nothing but obstacles to their next tech rant.
