Infatuation, Technically

“Infatuation, Technically,” was technically published on the Danse Macabre blog this past week. This brief tale evolved out of experience working in a office where women are as difficult to get to know as they are arresting. But the story isn’t really about that.

If it weren’t for technology I wouldn’t be a published author (if what I can be called is such). I make my submissions online and I receive my electronic voice online. I look at maps online and I haven’t touched a phonebook in years.

But still. I’m still not convinced all of this technology is a good thing. “Infatuation, Technically” is about the love of technology. The human element is gone. I could be dating a clone and wouldn’t even know it. This food I’m eating never occurred in nature. That fly buzzing around my head is a drone.

A friend told me they are now printing cells with 3-D printers. What if we haven’t found all the dimensions yet? What if we live in a five dimensional world? What of those things we’ve replicated with only length, breadth, and depth? It’s like Flatland all over again.

I use technology daily. I fear technology daily.

My writing all used to be done by hand. It was organic, peaceful, and freeing. I sometimes couldn’t write fast enough to get the ideas down when a certain channel opened, a flood would follow. Now my fingers peck like hungry chickens. Chicken fingers.

Publishers tell us that many books rise or fall on whether or not their authors have an internet presence. Can you find me online? My email account says no. I miss my paper. Does anyone know where my pen is?

This cyberworld feels like an illusion to me, but now we’re getting online watches and phones and wallets. Even cars, I’m told, come with electronic keys.

The dinosaurs, I’m almost certain, gave no thought to meteorites. Life was all about being the top predator. When our fragile planet was shaken up some 65 million years ago it took awhile for the dust to settle. And when it revealed primates sharpening stones, you could see the next space rock appearing if you looked deeply enough into the sky.

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Patterns

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K. Marvin Bruce

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