WHY IS NEW TECHNOLOGY MEAN TO ME?
It is never easy to reexamine one’s fundamental convictions, but now I am forced to question my previous disbelief in the existence of Satan. I am compelled to confront this ugly possibility by the fact that from time to time my electronic devices seem to fall under demonic possession. Now, I should start by saying that I am not someone with a natural animosity towards personal technology. I have been known to be completely reasonable when the supermarket self-checkout machines refuse to let me proceed until I place my last purchased item into the bagging area. I patiently explain, sometimes with dramatic physical reenactments, that, in fact, I have placed the product directly in the centre of the bagging area, and even into a bag itself.
Despite these kinds of sympathetic efforts, technology finds me wanting; I am disfavoured within the silicon-based community, and the situation has become so bad that it’s brought to mind this possibility of a malevolent presence — Beelzebub, Lucifer, the Dark Lord, whatever you want to call him.
Let me describe the events of last Friday, when technology was especially mean to me. I woke up in Chicago to find that my phone, which normally charges through the port on the bottom, was no longer accepting charges from that entry point. I didn’t think much of it, assuming I could clean out some dust or something.
Then I tried to pair it with my earbuds, which it usually automatically pairs with. Nothing doing. This sometimes happens, so I tried connecting it with my backup earbuds, the ones that sound like they’re beaming music from the bottom of the Pacific. These devices also refused to be on speaking terms. I went to the Bluetooth page on the phone, and it was just a bunch of “not connected” readings.
I did what any master technologist would do. I rubbed the earbuds against my phone in a seductive circular manner. I put them in my ears and grazed the phone against my cheeks with a pressure that was amorous and gentle, but also firm. Still, the phone and earbuds refused to sync. People talk a lot about artificial intelligence but not enough about artificial obstinacy.
As I rushed to the airport my Find My app rubbed salt in the wounds by telling me I had left behind the earbuds that my phone refused to recognise in the first place. At the airport, it occurred to me that I might clean the charging port by using a suction technique.
So, if you were at Midway International Airport last Friday and a small child asked you, “Why is that man sucking on his phone?”, that man was me.
I got on the plane, secure in the knowledge that Southwest has very reliable Wi-Fi service. But the flight attendant informed us that this time it wasn’t working, because, you know, Satan. I got home and found my home Wi-Fi wasn’t working, either.
While at home, I had to print six documents. I used to have a printer that served me well until one day it decided my ink cartridges were “corrupt” and refused to do any further printing.
We bought a new printer, but it’s snooty. Asking it to print something is like applying to Harvard University. It was willing to print out an essay from the journal Daedalus and an academic paper on ageing, but it was unwilling to print four other documents from mere newspapers and websites.
You might be reading this account thinking that I’m the problem here. I’m just a technology idiot who doesn’t know how to fix things. But I remind you of the central reality. Gizmos that were working for me one minute stopped working the next. I want my technology to have many capacities, but free will is not among them.
As I write this sad tale, my computer is alerting me that I have to shut it down for a vital security update, as it does frequently when I’m on deadline. For a decade, if I deleted an email on my phone, it was also deleted on my laptop, but one day, that stopped working, too.
Every time I log onto my bank’s website, using the same computer each time, I get an email telling me a new device has been detected. And don’t even get me started on subjective security questions.
How am I supposed to remember what my favourite pizza topping was about 15 years ago when I opened that account? People grow and change.
I am thinking of finding a priest who can do a full-scale technological exorcism — like in that old Linda Blair movie. Before I do, let me just send this off to my editor before my computer crashe$^%#&*((@”+!%#.