Don't buy that microchip
I grew up in between worlds. My older cousins played with GameBoys but we had been raised washing ourselves in a big blue bucket that our grandmother would fill up with water, with a small kitchen pot, back and forth through the corridor. We shared the water.
We would walk out the door, clean, wearing the clothes that the older siblings had owned, making our way up to the mountain. Nobody would stop us, warn us of the dangers of nature. We would be out for hours, crossing potato fields, avoiding bee hives, running for our lives before angry dogs or angry farmers. We would get hurt and we would walk back home with bleeding knees and ripped pants. But oh, you know, we felt no grief. No fear. Pain existed in this beautiful thing we called our life. We didn't suffer from it, for we had accepted its part in the grand scheme of things. We knew it meant we were growing.
We did grow. I don't remember when my family sold the house in the woods to be able to afford a small apartment in the city. But that was the end of many beautiful things. I once had held a frog between my hands that jumped inside of my yellow shirt. I felt it slide down my skin to my belly button and jump away. I fed a kitten cow milk ( what?) I guess Disney didn't clarify certain biological important traits about the stupidity of the human diet. I saw my grandfather come back with dead ducks and hares hanging from his black motorbike.
It took me a long time to get a smartphone. I was nearly 20 and was forced to use one for my job in NYC.
Contrary to most people's beliefs, I KNOW I learned much more when I depended solely on my mind.
Please, don't buy the microchip that translates any language for you.
When you learn a new language, you learn a new way to UNDERSTAND, TOLERATE and EMPATHISE with the differences between us. And that, and only that, would make this human race live forever.