I envision myself standing on top of a skyscraper, looking out at the world and I am overcome by a sense of satisfaction as I raise my arm up and back and then fling it forward to release my most precious possession out into the world. I am setting it free but more importantly I am breaking the bonds that keep me imprisoned. It is alone out there in the world, and though in this moment I am alone on top of a building, I feel connected with all of humanity. I have just launched my iPod off the top of a skyscraper and my only regret is that I will not be standing on the pavement below, wherever it may land, to hear the satisfying crunch it makes when it lands face down on the pavement.
There is a niggling voice in the back of my brain that is trying to remind me that that iPod was a rather pricey purchase and I don't have the money to replace it. A larger part of my brain is exulting in its freedom, I feel as though I've awakened from a coma. I have disconnected myself and in doing so I have liberated my body from the zombie-like state it once occupied.
I realized not too long along, that I'd gone 24 hours without speaking to another human being. I walked to the mall and went into the drug store. I bought a bottle of iced tea. The man at the counter said, "One dollar and thirty-four cents." I handed him two dollars, he made the change and handed it back. We spoke the language of money - it was far from satisfying conversation.
I left the drug store and wandered the three stories of the mall. I was lost in a sea of people but not once did I make contact. My fingers did not graze a passing coat. My eyes did not share a secret upon meeting those of a stranger: they stared instead at the dirty tiles on the floor. I sat for a while on a bench in the middle of the mall as people came and went. I felt invisible and began to doubt my own existence. I walked home in the hope of verifying my reality.
On the walk home I counted 74 ears - that's 37 individuals that I passed on foot. I counted 54 head phones - that's 54 ear buds holding 27 souls hostage. They are completely isolated not only from me but the world around them - they are paradoxes that have plugged in and disconnected all at once. I said, "Good afternoon," to a boy who appeared to be my age. He gave me a funny look but otherwise did not respond. We each kept walking our own separate ways. I mourned the lost opportunities of meeting those in cars but they live in entirely separate worlds. I felt more alone than ever.
I arrived home. I turned on my computer and was instantaneously connected to the Internet: it is the only thing I have connected with all day. I signed on to an instant messaging service and messaged my best friend. I've known my best friend for seven years or so - I've spent less than a week with her in person. Our conversations are staged between a physical barrier, a firewall that keeps us from each other. We are communicating constantly, but rarely do we truly speak to one another.
I am alone in my room and simultaneously connected to all of the Internet users of the world - but we can only reach each other through superficial means; without their presence, without their touch it's only the facade of contact. My space in the world has been reduced to a single URL occupying some long forgotten corner of the Internet, and my friends list of 378 people is not a list of friends at all: instead it's a list of people I barely know and will never come to know. My space is not a space at all and I feel as though I could vanish from existence tonight, but I would live on as long as my facebook profile lived on.
And so, in an attempt to set myself free I have dreamed up this fantasy in which I physically destroy the technology that isolates me from the rest of mankind. But I fear it is too late - am I the only one left who can banish technology and still connect with other human beings?
