100 million iphones don't lie. What an amazing man. He is the

Host: The Apple Store was a cathedral of glass and light — gleaming tables, perfect reflections, walls pulsing with clean white radiance. Outside, the city shimmered in neon, but inside, it was sterile transcendence. Every object had a glow, every corner hummed with quiet efficiency, and every customer moved like a worshipper tracing the steps of ritual.

Host: Jack stood at the Genius Bar, his grey eyes scanning the sleek rows of iPhones, iPads, and endless versions of the same perfection. Jeeny leaned against one of the display counters, her expression half amused, half reflective. Between them sat a glowing device on a minimalist pedestal — the newest iPhone, its screen pulsing gently like a living heart.

Host: From a nearby screen, a clip played — Billy Bush, smiling for the camera, his tone bright and full of admiration, his words crisp and performative:

“100 million iPhones don’t lie. What an amazing man. He is the apple of all of our i’s. We have an i everything and it’s all so amazing.” — Billy Bush

Host: The video looped once, then paused. The phrase “apple of all of our i’s” lingered in the air — a pun that sounded light, yet carried the weight of modern worship.

Jeeny: softly, smirking “There it is — the modern gospel.”

Jack: grinning faintly “Yeah. The Church of Innovation. And Jobs — their reluctant messiah.”

Jeeny: glancing at the display “It’s funny, isn’t it? How an object — a piece of metal and glass — can become myth.”

Jack: quietly “It’s not just the object. It’s what it promises — control, elegance, identity. You don’t just buy an iPhone. You buy a piece of belonging.”

Jeeny: smiling faintly “Belonging through branding.”

Jack: nodding “Exactly. Billy Bush calls it ‘amazing’ — and he’s not wrong. It is amazing — how an idea became an ecosystem, a symbol, a mirror.”

Jeeny: thoughtfully “A mirror with a front-facing camera.”

Jack: chuckling softly “Exactly. And what’s the first thing people do with it? Take a picture of themselves.”

Jeeny: smiling “We’ve turned self-awareness into a product.”

Host: The store’s music shifted, soft ambient tones — futuristic, ethereal. Customers passed by, their faces lit by the glow of devices. The room had no clocks. Only notifications.

Jeeny: quietly “You ever think about how language changed because of this? We use ‘i’ for everything — iCloud, iMessage, iLife — like the ‘i’ stands for individuality, but what it really means is integration.”

Jack: nodding slowly “Yeah. We used to think the ‘i’ was empowering. Now it’s an anchor.”

Jeeny: softly “Still, there’s something extraordinary about it. Steve Jobs didn’t just sell products. He redesigned perception — made technology feel human.”

Jack: quietly “He made the machine sing.”

Jeeny: nodding “Exactly. That’s why people loved him. Not for what he built, but for how he made them feel about what they already wanted to be.”

Jack: thoughtfully “Which is the definition of magic — convincing someone their reflection is divine.”

Host: The automatic doors opened, and a cool breeze swept in — city air mixing with the sterile chill of the store. The smell of rain and concrete replaced the scent of polished aluminum.

Jeeny: softly “Billy’s quote — it’s funny, but it’s also tragic. You can hear worship in his voice. A man talking about another man like he invented life.”

Jack: nodding “That’s the paradox. We deify our creators, then complain about their control.”

Jeeny: smiling faintly “And call it innovation instead of dependence.”

Jack: quietly “You think Jobs knew that?”

Jeeny: after a pause “Completely. He wasn’t selling devices. He was selling desire — packaged, polished, backlit.”

Jack: grinning “Desire that updates every September.”

Jeeny: laughing softly “Exactly. We wait for miracles now — and they come with better cameras.”

Host: The light from the devices reflected in their eyes, creating the illusion of stars — artificial constellations. The hum of quiet admiration around them felt spiritual in tone, almost meditative.

Jack: softly “It’s strange, though — how something so impersonal can feel intimate. The touch of glass, the responsiveness of the screen. It’s designed to mimic affection.”

Jeeny: nodding “And we respond like it’s alive. Like it understands us.”

Jack: quietly “Maybe it does — through data, algorithms, prediction.”

Jeeny: softly “But understanding isn’t empathy. It’s engineering.”

Jack: smiling faintly “True. But sometimes, they look the same.”

Jeeny: after a pause “That’s why people call it ‘amazing.’ Because it blurs the line between being served and being known.”

Jack: quietly “Between tool and mirror.”

Host: A child approached a display, reaching out to touch the glowing phone. The screen lit up instantly — color, motion, animation. His face filled with wonder. The kind of wonder usually reserved for stars, oceans, or fire.

Jeeny: softly, watching “There it is — the raw thing. The spark of awe. The one Jobs protected like it was sacred.”

Jack: nodding slowly “Yeah. For all the cynicism, there’s still beauty in that. He found a way to remind us how it feels to be amazed.”

Jeeny: quietly “Even if it’s curated amazement.”

Jack: smiling faintly “Doesn’t matter. It’s still real to the one who feels it.”

Jeeny: softly “And that’s the magic Billy Bush was really talking about — not technology, but emotion. The feeling of living in an age where dreams are manufactured and delivered in boxes.”

Jack: quietly “And each one begins with an ‘i.’”

Host: The camera would pull back, rising above the glass staircase, above the glowing fruit logo, above the city thrumming with light and motion. The store below looked like a temple in miniature — a place where people came not to buy, but to believe.

Host: And through that sleek hum of innovation, Billy Bush’s words echoed once more — simple, humorous, yet prophetic in their unintentional truth:

that the amazing thing
about our age
is not invention,
but belief —
how easily we trade spirituality
for seamless design;

that we no longer worship gods,
but interfaces,
polished smooth enough
to reflect our longing;

that even perfection
has its price —
and we pay it, smiling,
with every tap,
every swipe,
every whispered “Wow.”

Host: The doors slid shut again.
The glow of screens lit the night.
And somewhere inside that light,
the human spirit — curious, hopeful, insatiable —
kept reaching out,
touching glass,
still calling it
amazing.