None of this is real. It is only as real as the electrons and electromagnetic media on which it is stored. Certainly, the feelings, the emotions behind it all is real, but then again they rely entirely upon entirely different media, dont they? Machines that are biochemical in their makeup, which rely on weak electrical pulses as well. But here, on Facebook, on the Internet, the Cloud (a term I am growing to despise in its over usage), this is a very tenuous medium. A power outage somewhere is all it takes to cut us off from all of this. We are moving away from physical media. Most of what we write is digital, we keep our pictures here and in other digital places, we store music, movies, books, here... in digital media. That with the flick of a switch can no longer exist. All of those things we use to help define who we are gone, vanished, into the electromagnetic aether, never to be seen again, lost to the ages. We live in a tenuous age. And when we are gone, every trace of our existence is now even easier to erase. No photos, no journals, nothing physical. We will be gone. I think, I think I am, therefore I am, I think. Of course you are my bright little star, Ive miles And miles Of files Pretty files of your forefathers fruit and now to suit our great computer, Youre magnetic ink. Im more than that, I know I am, at least, I think I must be. There you go man, keep as cool as you can. Face piles And piles Of trials With smiles. It riles them to believe that you perceive the web they weave And keep on thinking free. - Graeme Edge, Moody Blues, In The Beginning
Posted on: Sat, 30 Aug 2014 14:41:31 +0000
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