Today I did something I said I would never do. Sitting on my desk is a dinky device, blinking a green "charging" light, looking a bit like Darth Vader and planning to enslave me. With it came a set of glossy manuals, explaining in a cheery salesman's voice the terms of my indentured servitude. The dictatorial master looks somewhat like a toy, with colorful buttons and icons reminiscent of the early days of the internet. In case you haven't guessed, I am now the lucky owner of a cellular phone, provided by my company so that they can reach me on the road during business hours.
Unfortunately, it's much more insidious an evil than such an arrangement would imply. I am expected to keep a little altar in my car and at my house, so that the phone can be fully charged with power overnight while I am sleeping. Then, I'm to "power it on" at 8:30, in a twisted sort of ritual to its greatness. During the day I should keep it nearby, and be prepared to bow to its every noise and vibration. At 5 p.m., I must perform the "power down" ritual, unless I feel a need to be reachable. But isn't that part of being human? Everyone wants to be reached! Sooner or later, I will become complacent to its mastery, and become a true Cellular Cult member.
It was nice knowing all of you.
