No time for geeks

- by John Boyd-

Time really is the essence of high-tech life. We plot, count, track, and charge for it. Yet the more accurate we measure and try to control Time, the more it eludes us.

The faster we whip our computers into running, the more time we end up squandering. We hang about waiting for the computer to boot up, and wait for it to close down properly at the end of the day. We spend ages searching for missing files, figuring out the latest error message, or establishing just what caused the system to crash this time.

E-mail has undoubtedly speeded up communications. Yet instead of bringing some respite to the daily rush, it's only upped the tempo and extended the hours we work. When was the last time you experienced a 9:00-to-5:00 day? And how much more productive are you when you need to spend a couple of hours daily, dealing just with e-mail?

The Internet is a marvelous communications tool for gathering and publishing information. Innovation on the Internet is taking place at incredible speeds. So fast is the frenetic pace of development, that Netnics speak of "working in Internet time," and measure an "Internet year" in dog years. Cynics don't disagree there's some truth to this, for they see the Net going to the dogs, as the WWW morphs into the World Wide Wait.

Really, we have become little better than idiot savants, able to measure computer processing speed in billionths of a second, yet fail to understand the nature of what it is we're measuring. And our erstwhile brilliant calculating machines have also been unmasked as dolts, incapable of distinguishing between 2000 and 1900.

Our ultimate weapon against Time is our imagination. Out of it, we can construct a time machine to give us total control over the fourth dimension. We can slip back into the past when we want to wax nostalgic, or zoom into the future when we desire to anticipate an upcoming event.

But while we trip out, our pointless present slips away unnoticed, stolen from us by the real master of the clock: Time. Clearly, we are devoid of insight into what it is weÕre fighting. And this lack of understanding is why we cannot but lose to Time.

When we do win a skirmish or two, it becomes a waste of time because we fritter away the gains. We cleverly employ technology to speed up time, yet outsmart ourselves by having less of it to pause, to take stock, to contemplate.

With our computers and the Internet, we have created a world that never sleeps. So now we must keep our mobile phones switched on 24 hours a day, even when weÕre in the toilet. If the world doesnÕt rest, how can we? Accordingly, we take a computer home from work in the evenings, on weekends, and bring it with us when we go on vacation.

What we need now more than ever is some quiet time off, in order to reconnect to our spiritual selves, our families, and the universe. Instead, any saving in time technology brings is used to stuff yet more bloatware into our PCs, add another arcane plug-in to the browser, or slow down e-mail by adding graphics, audio and video.

Our technolust, not Time, is the enemy. Time is really our best friend, always there to prompt us into thinking about the deeper meaning life. When we look in the mirror and see the graying hair and the multiplying wrinkles, Time is using tough love to make sure we donÕt forget what lies ultimately ahead. For hard-core geeks, though, time has to start running out before they get the message. If they ever do.

Nevertheless, Time keeps badgering even the dreariest of monomaniacs right up to the end. In our final moment in the presence of the Being of Light, it is TimeÕs job to make sure we wonÕt be taken by surprise at the ultimate question, "So what did you do with your time here?" If Time were to give up on us, it knows weÕd have to reply, "Well, I spent most of it reading and writing e-mail."

After reading this, should you still feel an urge to write to John atboyd@gol.com, he says there's little hope left for you. But go ahead anyway, just donÕt expect a reply.

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