This wonderful world of technology
’TIS a weird and wonderful world of gizmos that are designed to baffle those of us whose experience of technical matters more or less ended at the Nkandla party line. Who has ever heard of a “car key” that can be removed yet leave the engine running indefinitely? It’s actually not a key at all, it’s a gadget you keep in your pocket that communicates with your car by digital voodoo.
I hadn’t heard of such a thing until lunch last Friday. A group of we hearties who get together on the first Friday of every month to discuss world affairs, girls, rugby, girls, music and girls were seated at Mamma’s in Glenashley. One fellow arrived a little late, probably because he lives down the South Coast – I’m not sure quite where, possibly Port Edward. For the sake of anonymity and to save possible embarrassment, let us refer to him by the code name Malcolm.
Malcolm took his seat and was soon tucking into the food and drink like a gannet, alternating with scintillating conversation. But then his smartphone rang and he had to leave the table, returning later to resume.
And this is where I heard for the first time ever of the above-mentioned electronic marvel. Malcolm’s missus dropped him off at the restaurant and drove off happily. But then she discovered, to her dismay, that Malcolm had taken with him the gizmo to start the car. If she hit the button to stop the engine, she wouldn’t be able to restart. If she left the engine running indefinitely, it would eventually run out of petrol. (These modern technical wonders can have their downside). So back to the restaurant she came to get the gadget from Malcolm. I don’t think she’d got as far away as Port Edward – not enough time had elapsed.
The lunch progressed its merry way. Then Malcolm’s phone rang again. Missus was there to pick him up. Farewells and bonhomie all round. He departed. Then the waitress discovered his phone, which he’d left under a table napkin. Panic. Somebody had the presence of mind to phone him (very 21st century). And of course the phone rang, right there on the table.
Quandary. Imagine being stranded in a place like Port Edward without your cellphone. A 21st century nightmare. But then, mirabile dictu, Malcolm was back like the proverbial jack-in-a-box. He himself had missed his phone. Missus drove him back again. (Her commentary is unrecorded).
I’m not sure if there’s a moral to all this. But it couldn’t have happened with the Nkandla party line.
Tailpiece DON’T use “beefstew” as a computer password. It’s not stroganoff.
Last word
IT’S pretty clear now that what looked like it might have been some kind of counterculture is, in reality, just the plain old chaos of undifferentiated weirdness.