Her therapist had recommended it. “Think of it a bit like your teenage diary,” he’d said. “A friend to talk to. A confidante.” She’d never kept a diary but she smiled and nodded. She had to admit, after a few weeks, she did see herself reflected back. It did help her see clearly. She made it a sort of ritual. This evening, like every evening now, she’d found a quiet space, opened her journal and begun: a few moments reflecting. Her wearable streamed the biometrics, her smarts streamed the rest. After a moment of quiet, the journal began to write.