The other day the most horrible thing happened to me. It was
a moment so scarring that a little bit of poo came out. *cringes*
Like all wrong things in this world, it started on the
train. My morning ritual was underway when a person made eye contact.
At first I was dumbfounded by this violation of personal
space. How could they not know the white earphones oozing from my ears meant
“bugger off”?
Of course, I said all of this to reassure my inhibitions,
but deep down I knew the truth: I had become a slave to my iPod. It’s
something that I, and countless others, have turned to when pressed by the
nerves of a random encounter.
I’m aware of another barricade used by people. When you're walking, keep your head down staring at the
screen in your palm and passers-by will turn invisible. What’s the price of this vanishing
act you ask? $799 plus a couple of bumps and bruises.
And this is the wrath of technology. It adds a little more
grey to everything, starting with face-to-face encounters.
Take the other night for instance. I was having a coffee
with a dear friend and his smartphone. It was grueling competition. How could I
compete with Google’s knowledge, Facebook’s variety, a photographic memory and enough
trinkets to make me, an aspiring writer (complete with beard) look dull?
I spent more time waiting for him to finish his texts than engaging
in conversation.
At one point I sms'd him. Why go out at all?
The social network epidemic has to be the most interesting
invention because it undermines everything it sets to achieve. Sure, it’s a
convenient way of cataloguing your friends—like dusty archives—but most of the
people you befriend are, at best, acquaintances. These people you rarely talk
to will see your profile, and no one wants their lasting impression to be of a
drunken Christmas photo. Delete please.
Or a status revealing your bigoted self. Censor that.
How about your infatuation with the latest tween song? Nuh uh.
Your Facebook profile then is a representation of you at
best and a far cry from the complex person you really are.
There’s nothing wrong with showing your good side; but our
dependence on these technologies has reduced our multi-dimensional selves to 1s
and 0s.
In a phone call, it’s easy to tell when someone is sad, even
if they profess otherwise. And what about the wrinkles of sincerity present
when you tell someone good news? Their ear-to-ear smile is enough to warm your
insides.
But apparently these tell-tale signs are expendable.
Text, especially digitised text, is robbed of context and
open to misrepresentation. As a technology journalist by trade, I can say I
value our progression (heck it gives me a job,) but hear the warning of
countless science fiction writers: our reliance is more dystopia than paradise.
Fending this addiction is possible. Simply revert to our
intuitive senses: make eye contact; say hello; touch someone’s hand; smell a rose;
kiss someone. There are so many loaded qualities buzzing in the air when you’re
around someone. Like magic they can’t be measured, but they’re certainly absent
from a screen.
Back in the day, people used to…hang on, I’ll just Google that.
By Tony Ibrahim
By Tony Ibrahim
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