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What happens when the machine stops?

22/1/2013

 
Screencap from Life in a Day
Screencap from Life in a Day
Over the weekend I spent more hours than is healthy at Birmingham Airport. The reason for my enforced stay was Britain’s inability to cope with a bit of ice and snow.

To pass the time I decided to overdose on coffee and, with too much caffeine in my bloodstream and a lack of real spice in my life, I reached for my Sony eReader. The story I chose to read seemed appropriate given my plight: The Machine Stopped by E.M. Forster (1879-1970).

Written in 1909 this novella is scarily prescient. It concerns an imaginary future in which the human race lives underground and eschews direct contact with the outside world. To achieve this it has constructed The Machine. This networked intelligence tends to the human race’s every need, be it physical, intellectual or spiritual. As a result, the thought of leaving the glorious isolation of one’s artificial cocoon is an anathema. Natural air, daylight, direct human contact – all are nauseating to people conditioned to living their lives sat on a chair, staring into a monitor and waiting for their virtual friends to message them with an original idea.

Don’t forget, all this was written over a century ago.

I am now back at home, safe and sound after my Birmingham exile. And what am I doing? Well, I’m sat in a chair, staring at a monitor, of course. Meanwhile life is probably still going on outside. One thing of which I am certain is that the world existed on Saturday 24 July 2010. I know this because I’ve just watched the film “Life in a Day”. It’s a 94 minute edited compilation of 80,000 YouTube clips all recorded on a single day in July a few years ago.

One of the best bits of the film is the sequence that features Angolan women chanting as they work. I am clearly not alone in this view. A YouTube user by the name of Pellentior has uploaded the music. While listening I scrolled down to the comments, where I found the following post by “cherryblossohm”:

    When watching this scene it made me feel like I was doing it all wrong.
    What exactly? Idk [I don’t know], life? Sitting here, on my ipad,
    cell in one hand and tv on... when I’m up to date on stupid status updates
    in actuality I’m missing out. I think I want to spend my time on this earth
    in a different light. Light as in, the sun lol. Out and be humbled to
    experience how others around the world enjoy living. Cuz I know I’m not.

In a single paragraph cherryblossohm has confirmed the sad truth of Forster’s prophetic tale.

I just hope for all our sakes that he got at least one thing wrong. After all, we will be in for one hell of a shock if the machine does ever stop working.


Comments are closed.
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    an extinct parasite
    of several hosts
    Why parasite?

    Try the best you can

    Para, jämsides med.
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    Bevingaren, 1980: 90

    Picture
    Even a parasite like me should be permitted to feed at the banquet of knowledge

    I once posted comments as Bevingaren at guardian.co.uk

    Guggenheim New York, parasitized

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    Note    All parasitoids are parasites, but not all parasites are parasitoids
    Parasitoid    "A parasite that always ultimately destroys its host" (Oxford English Dictionary)


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