"Mine's brighter than yours," she said, weirdly haughty about her smartphone's flashlight.
They were sat around the back door to a small, comfortable house in Brooklyn. Five or six millenials, all gazing alternately between the small bonfire in the middle of their seats and their dimly illuminated phones.
"That's weird. Don't you also have an iPhone 6?" said Tyler.
"Yeah, but I downloaded the better flashlight app. It makes my light brighter."
James butted in, "there's no fucking way. How can an app make your hardware work harder?"
"Listen, I hear what you're saying, and I know it makes no sense. But really, this app somehow makes the light brighter."
"I have to test this myself," said Anias, "I don't believe it."
"Download it, then!" she responded.
A minute of silence followed as Anias and James both searched for the app in question. The rest of the group stared contemplatively at the fire in the cast iron pan.
"It's weird that Doritos burn so well, and for this long," said Al, "I guess all Bear Grylls really needs is a bag of cool ranch."
"Yeah. But I think it needs a little more," said Tyler, sprinkling another handful of chips onto the blaze. The fire leaps with the addition of the new fuel. Tyler gets out of his seat and picks up scraps of pine branches, somehow left over from christmas, six months earlier. "Let's see how this changes it." He drops the branches into the fire.
The backyard smells like burning holiday.
Suddenly, a bright light illuminated the fire. The source was Anias' phone.
"I can't believe it actually works," he said, dumbfounded. "How can an app make my physical light brighter."
The light grows dimmer and brighter as he switches between the on-board flashlight app and the new, superior light.
The others in the group are impressed by this technological display, switching their attention from the fire to the phones.
Just moth-like millenials, like moths to the brightest light. Yet also like urban fireflies, lighting up the night with their almost rhythmic light pulses.