“What have I done now”, she wonders to herself as she stares down at the sleek body and impenetrable face of her new Kindle e-reader. She had thought about this purchase for months and months and months prior to actually hitting the “buy button” and bringing this new technology into her life. She believed she was ready. With reading being her foremost passion - and with her living space being limited - there is only so much room for books to pile up and she had finally reached the tipping point. And, hey, what about all those trees she'll be saving (and what about her e-reader's built-in dictionary feature she has been looking forward to utilizing)?
But!
Now that she has it in front of her, and is beginning to experience first-hand how unlike an actual book an e-reader truly is, she has a rather uneasy feeling it’s going to bring with it some kind of change she has not prepared herself for.
She had already anticipated the greatest shock would come from the fact she will no longer be able to physically share a book she loves with someone she hopes will love it too. And, of course, when it comes to sharing her love for a particularly well-told story the one she most wishes to share it with is her son.
Because her son did not develop a passion for reading until he was in University (but when he fell, he fall hard) she waited a long, long time to share with him that which she had always hoped to share. Of course they don’t always feel exactly the same about a particular book but, when it happens that they do, it is one of her greatest, simple pleasures.
But!
Now that her son is living in Germany, and is not likely to return to live in Canada for who knows how long, it has become easier to simply pass along the titles of any exceptional books she has read through their email correspondence and, then, to put extra effort into selecting a special book for him at Christmas when he is home.
So?
Well, if she’s honest with herself she feels somewhat uneasy about the prospect of possibly becoming (even more) "singular" through her ever increasing involvement with technology. As it stands now her computer provides her with her greatest creative outlet and, if all goes well, in the fall it will begin providing her with an on-line, educational experience which will then lead to it providing her with a new source of income a year hence. How can she not love and value this "partnership"?
On the other hand, the more she allows herself to be seduced by the absolute ease and fluidity of current technology (and, yes, part of her decision to acquire an e-reader was the honest-to-goodness thrill and sense of security she feels knowing her e-reader will allow her to materialize reading material out of thin air in the twinkling of an eye from almost anywhere) the more dependent she will inevitably become on it.
Usually, she resists becoming too comfortable because she would rather deprive herself than be deprived. For instance, she refuses to air condition her apartment because she doesn't believe she will necessarily be able to afford to in the future. But, in the case of "personal technology", she is slowly getting more and more deeply entrenched in its usage. And, the more she interacts with technology as a way to satisfy her need to grow and stretch her mind, her creativity and, if all goes well, her livelihood, it might become the case where she interacts correspondingly less with people to do the same.
So?
Can this be right? Can technology "grow" a human being? Or, does technology "grow" someone/thing more hybrid in nature? Or, is the increasing "marriage" between humans and technology simply spawning modern human beings ("The Wired Ones")?
"Well, damn!" she thinks to herself as she comes to the end of her wondering and goes out in the sun to read.
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