The Human Moment

A story that begs for Onion-like ridicule: According to a recent survey, cell phones and the Internet have become so ubiquitous that many Americans would give up friends, even sex, for those all-important connections via technology (said the blogger, tapping away on his little laptop). The article elaborates:

"People told us how anxious, isolated and bored they felt when they are forced off line," said Ann Mack, director of trend spotting at JWT, which conducted the survey to see how technology was changing people's behavior. "They felt disconnected from the world, from their friends and family," she told Reuters.

This would be fine if we were all characters from a William Gibson novel - quirky and sleek, with bizarre names, and connected to some hyper-intelligent demimonde of rich people and oddballs. But were not. Most of us are everyday Americans, like the Slashdot crowd but without the engineering degree, surrounded by blinky LEDs, and completely repressed, sitting in front of a computer desk laden with empty pizza boxes and a nest of USB cables. Mere human contact in everyday meatspace makes us feel awkward. We don't use the Internet to do cool stuff. Instead we check an eBay auction and groan about an email from our boss.

Most alarming is the fact that cell phones are getting smarter, and more and more like a digital appendage. CEOs, home-makers, street hustlers - every day, constantly, everybody walking down the street downtown is looking down into tiny LCD screens, clicking away. Recently I went to Starbucks - true story, embarrassing, pathetic story - and while I was waiting for my grande, iced Americano (ridicule me mercilessly for that alone, I deserve it) I was scrolling through an email on my Blackberry. When the called my name I looked up - and there were three other guys my age, each of whom was looking down into their Blackberrys.

A moment like that almost inspires a radical aesthetic, a St. Francis of Assisi revelation, where you feel called to cast off all of the trappings of this imperfect, isolating age and wander off into the woods. Don't get me wrong - I certainly don't care to join those stanky Greens in the backwoods of Oregon - but strictly in terms of evolution we are social mammals, that not long ago lived in small tribes collecting food and grooming one another. And we're more than that, as flawed but grace-worthy souls, in my estimation. But no matter what, we're rigged for life with that tactile, visceral sense.

And I think, as I get older, it's the little things, those intensely human moments, that become even more precious. It's inside the unspoken information I share with my wife in mixed company, something very funny, acknowledged by the briefest of glances. It's the lame, awful joke with which somebody starts a business meeting, causing a few moments of almost breathlessly awkward silence. These days I enjoy that. It's the immensely happy belly-laughs of my nine-month old daughter, when I creep up behind her and tickle her back with a silly, ridiculous sound, or sing her name like an idiot while I crawl to the edge of her crib and peek over the side and see her brilliant, beaming face.

Those signals don't travel down the EDGE network.

Tags: Blackberry, St. Francis of Assisi, Slashdot