Pixel Perfect

Part II - The Perfect Family Selfie

"Every time you take a picture, the camera is actually shooting a burst of photos. The primary rear camera captures anywhere from twenty to sixty photos and the additional cameras—they're all different focal lengths and they're capturing different sets of details in the frame. The software—that is, the CloudOptics algorithm—is the magic sauce that renders all the information together, so before you finish saying cheese, you've taken the best photo of your life. Beyond all the raw computational elements, the camera actually starts capturing data before you even tap the shutter button. So if someone is blinking or not smiling or your hand shakes, the camera already has the data to best render your photo."

Johnny desperately wanted to keep talking, but he could tell he already lost his audience. Mom and Dad were barely feigning polite interest and Johnny's little sister, Janey, never looked up from her own phone, an old and generic Android that seemed to be permanently connected to an external battery pack.

Dad licked barbecue sauce off his fingers before reaching across the table for a roll of paper towels. "Mmmh," he said, backhanding his mouth as he tore off a few sheets. "And is that one of the classes you're taking? Smartphone camera ... tography?"

Johnny let out a silent sigh as his gaze fell to his half-eaten brisket sandwich and french fries, served in a red plastic basket that came out of the kitchen sticky. Dad never went to college and was about as blue collar as they came, managing a gas station convenience store. He wouldn't know an F-stop from a train stop if the train came straight through his living room.

"You're thinking of computational photography, Dad," Johnny said, unable to hide a disappointed frown, "but if it's not a DSLR, colleges don't really like to acknowledge what the think is 'fringe' photographic technology—"

"I thought Ashley was supposed to be coming tonight," Mom interjected.

Johnny glanced back up to see his mom inspecting a dry-rubbed spare rib for a point of entry. She decided to tackle it from the middle-out, and sunk her teeth into the meat. Johnny pulled his face into a neutral expression but feared even a blank face would give away too much. Another glance at Janey— she was too preoccupied with her phone to pay attention to the conversation, much less her own basket of untouched barbecued meat.

"What is she studying?" Dad asked with a quick look at Mom. "Nursing?"

"Mmmmh-hm." Mom chewed a mouthful of pork while she winked at her son. "Someone needs to be careful Ashley doesn't find out she's much too good for our little camera nerd."

Johnny took a large bite from his sandwich to avoid speaking. Another glance at Janey—honestly, would it kill her to help buffer the parentals, if only for a minute? The last thing Johnny wanted to explain was how he spent the last week sleeping over at Ashley's apartment because his own roommate was a chronic pothead who couldn't stop dealing out of their dorm room. A day earlier, Johnny found out that Ashley was taking advantage of Johnny's absence from his dorm room to hook up with the pothead roommate.

They took Netflix and Chill to new highs and Johnny was left with both his thumbs planted firmly up his own asshole. But sure, Mom, Ashley was too good for him.

Johnny wracked his brain as he over-chewed his food, wishing a neutral conversation topic would magically fall in his lap. He looked down at his new Appleseed smartphone sitting face-down next to the sticky plastic basket. The massive array of camera lenses met his gaze with cold, silent understanding.

His life was better when he was on the other side of the lens.

"Have you seen how those assholes in Washington want to cancel student debt?" Dad asked, lobbing the political conversation starter like it was crudely-improvised pipe bomb. "What the hell am I doing, busting my ass sixty hours a week, if those guys are just gonna cancel everything?"