One of my lifelong ambitions is to correct the deficiencies of the ordinary household sofa. These are many and varied, but most glaring is that even the finest specimens fail to offer anything but a place to sit down and look at things — a book perhaps, or a television screen, or in the absence of any alternative, another person. Users are forced to observe, never to manipulate, create, control. This manifest UX failure stems from the absence of a COMMAND SURFACE.
A place to marshall one’s implements; to bang a gavel, chop a scallion, trace a sigil, spin a Krugerrand, spread a map, lance a snakebite, contemptuously flick away a plea for clemency, or scatter the tiles of divination.
Outwardly, the device is composed of black iron pipe, brass compression fittings, and two acacia wood cutting boards from IKEA. The shielded orgone accumulator at its heart supplies a 10,000mAh power bank to keep devices charged without the need for a wall plug.
The device presented here represents some small progress towards a gene-level overhaul of sofas, and extensive field testing has proven it transforms any ordinary specimen from a platform for slack-jawed passivity to the Resolute Desk of a home. Testers have reported that backs immediately became a little straighter in their family. Jaws were abruptly set in determination, and the glint in every eye became perceptibly more steely. More importantly, things started to get done in these test households. Long-postponed projects were finished. Vaguely articulated ambitions were prioritized and realized, foes were conquered, obstacles were hurdled, brass rings reached. Homes where this device is deployed have already produced prodigies, Olympians, and titans of industry whose names you would recognize immediately.
Structurally, the device is almost preposterously over-engineered — you can expect it to serve and outlive generations of your kin. In the event of an earthquake or asteroid strike, in fact, the safest place to be in any home will be beneath this device.