• majoki

Textinction

Not even a whimper. More a muted plastic click. Almost frictionless. And it was sent.

Gone.

Who would remember? (Even though there was an embarrassing glut of memory these days.) You could store the whole of your life in a quantum chip, but who would want a pica of those bygone analog days.

We owed it all to McDonald’s. From fast food to fast talk—or no talk. For employees who couldn’t add or subtract to make change just build a cash register that could do it all. Construct the algorithm for retail transactions.

So, next up was constructing the app for interpersonal transactions: conversations. Choose the emojion, the symbol for the sentiment you wanted expressed, and it was transmitted via the chat-o-sphere to the implanted nodes behind the ear. Communication became winks, blinks and nods. None of this thumbing or tapping on devices.

Troy fell to a ruse, the dinosaurs to an asteroid, Twitter to Chatter. It was the end of text. And good riddance. Ditch the purity of talk. In the moment. Unrefined. Unedited.

With Chatter it was completely canned for couch potato convenience. Queue up the conversation and have at it. Let the algorithms drive, just like robomobiles. Don’t leave the dangerous business of thinking before speaking to a human. Let a machine do it. We learned that with GoogleTalk.

It’s like having someone read your mind, and isn’t that what we really want? Not having to explain, express or struggle with meaning. Read my mind—please. It’s so obvious. Think how I think. Replay my selected lines from here to eternity. I’ll roll in the surf while you do.

The Communication Age automated. Dit Dot Dash. Wink Blink Nod. For a more perfect union we free ourselves from context and content. Let the communion of souls begin with the very end of text

. . .

. . .

. . .


period


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