10/8 At the dentist, the assistant took a kind of light pen, or more like a light spoon, or a light pestle, with a rectangular grid of sensors glowing blue and green at the tip, and moved it around in my mouth to produce a 3D scan of my teeth. There was no reference point, no fixing of anything to anything, no holding still, just moving the pestle around so it could familiarize itself with the surroundings. It produced a kind of three-dimensional photograph which you could easily twist and turn on the screen.

I asked if I could take pictures of it with my phone, which she allowed. Could she also email it to me? Of course, she said, although after a few minutes of trying, it turned out there was no way to do that. It’s medical data; you’d be surprised if there was. But when I stood at the front desk to check out, she rolled the monitor down the corridor, views of each jaw from all angles neatly positioned on the screen, so I could take another cell phone shot of it.

The teeth look, well, aged, not too flattering. The silver fillings in them are half a century old, and the teeth in which they are embedded a decade older. Of course they look dated. I’ll try to keep them in good working order, like someone entrusted with a vintage car.