The switch is still pushed to on

One small mark, high on the left chest, the size of a badge. A rounded rectangle in white, reading MEDICINE on one side and 6:00 on the other, with a toggle switched fully to on beside it. The rest of the shirt is left completely empty.

The thing it was set for stopped a while ago. The alarm is still armed.

Why print a phone alarm instead of drawing the moment itself?

Because the alarm outlived the moment, and that's the actual subject — not whatever it originally rang for.

A scene of somebody being cared for would date itself to a specific stretch of time that's now over. The alarm card doesn't. It's a small, ordinary interface object, still sitting in a settings list, still switched on, asking nothing of anyone and just... there. What's being printed is the leftover, not the event.

Why does the toggle stay pushed to on?

Because turning it off would be a decision, and this print is specifically about the thing that never got decided.

Deleting an old alarm takes seconds. Most people don't do it — not because they need it, but because switching it off means admitting it's over, and that's a smaller task that somehow never gets done. The toggle rendered mid-slide, still lit, is the whole habit in one frame: nobody's using it, and nobody's turned it off either.

What decides how much of the screen actually gets drawn?

As little as possible — one line of text, one time, one switch. Anything closer to a real interface starts looking like a screenshot instead of a mark.

The badge scale is doing real work here: small enough to read as a private detail rather than a statement across the chest, the way a mark this size is meant to be found rather than announced. Two words and a switch is the entire content. There's nothing else on the card because there was never anything else on the real one.

Whose design is this, and what shouldn't be copied onto it?

The wording is yours to write, but the interface itself has to be invented — no real phone maker's icon set, font, or toggle style belongs on a shirt without their sign-off, and it isn't needed anyway.

A generic rounded-rectangle card with a plain label reads as "an alarm" to anyone who's ever owned a phone, without borrowing a specific operating system's actual look. That's not a workaround — it's closer to the real memory than a pixel-accurate screenshot would be, since what's remembered is the fact of the reminder, not which brand of phone it lived on.

How is this different from an alarm set for an ongoing routine?

The distance in time is the entire difference — one is still doing its job every day, and this one stopped doing anything a while ago and was simply never cleared.

An alarm still set against an active schedule is recording something that's currently true. This print records the opposite: a routine that ended, with one small unswitched setting left behind as the only evidence it ever existed. Same object, opposite tense.

Isn't keeping a dead alarm a strange thing to admit to?

Not really — most phones are carrying at least one. It's a small, unremarkable kind of clutter that almost nobody bothers to clear, and that's exactly why it's worth naming rather than an argument against printing it.

Compare it to a key that's been kept even though it opens nothing anymore — neither object is doing anything useful. Both stay anyway, because throwing away the evidence that something used to matter feels like a bigger decision than it should.

Does it print well?

Yes — a flat rounded-corner icon at badge size is the easiest kind of mark to reproduce cleanly. Keep it to the two inks already used: white for the card and text, one warm accent for the switch.

Any more colour and it stops reading as an app icon and starts reading as a poster. The whole design depends on staying small and quiet on an otherwise empty chest, not on filling more of it.

How do I get one made?

Describe the card at JustOG — what it says, what time it was set for, and where on the chest it should sit. Pick a direction, drag the crop frame, see it composited on the real garment, and it's made to order and shipped.

Designs other people have published are in the shop.

Nothing has rung at that hour in a long time. The switch is still on.