My dear Technology,
Your brilliant creators were once heroes, inventing an easier and longer life. Indeed I’m quite fond of the washing machine, toaster oven, and water heater. I love a good movie, food from around the world, and medical imaging. So cool!
You sold me on saving time on this and that, but market forces manage to steal my time right back. We had a good time, but I now need more space. We grew too intimate too fast, I need space to remember who I am. I am not your profit margin, I am not your end user, I am not a machine, like you. I am animated by breath. My skin regenerates. I belong to the kingdom Animalia - I am alive!
I like to use my hands to turn the pages of a book, sweep the floor and weed my garden. Even hand washing dishes is a warm balm for my dirt caked fingers, especially with a friend to help rinse and dry. Chores as a team are not chores at all. You told me my time was more valuable on the computer, alone with you. That the old ways were primitive and you were progress. I believed you once, but three days sleeping under the stars animates me more than any experience we’ve shared. It’s not your fault, or mine. We were doing what we were taught, but I challenge us both to step forward, into a future where energy is shared not through a cord, electrical socket or ignition switch but by walking barefoot on the earth, sowing seeds with our bare hands, and harvesting the fruit of our labor in community. Slowly, inefficiently, and for free.
I am not an object, I am wired to feel, and the feeling of picking, chopping and pressing apples with friends every fall, is worth more than picking up a gallon of cider at any store. The price of you Technology, attempting to meet my needs, while isolating me from what I need most is too high. I need connection in real life.
Ctrl-Alt-Delete.
