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Pitt was a wallscreen baby and then a rotophone kid, going from touchcolor wonderland to kinkcord tug-of-war with his sibs. His teen years slid from tablet selfies to headset versing, left him burned out and nostalgic all at once. Which was normal. His whole cohort spun through the churn with a pleasant, passive cynicism. Once he was of age, Pitt could participate in the great technocommunications democracy that year-by-year shifted the world from one platform or device to the next. Still a boy in spirit, he cast his first ballots on a lark, voting twice for paybooth and feeling shocked