I was in a packed YMCA locker room recently, forced to sit within arm's length of a naked man heatedly making his final negotiating points to someone in his locker, an undersized purchasing manager was my guess. And the little fella must have been driving a hard bargain, judging by the urgency in the man's voice. Now, I'll give anyone the benefit of the doubt, so I leaned over and took a tentative peek in the locker. I saw a shirt, a pair of pants, and a pair of shoes. I feel compelled to tell you; all were empty.
Ten years ago, the sight of a naked man arguing with phantoms might have elicited a 911 call. Three years ago, it would have warranted at least a second glance from someone else in the room, but not now, not in the age of Bluetooth. Everyone in the locker room just went about their business unbothered, for they had seen what I couldn't from my vantage point on the wrong side of the man's head: the sleek wireless device fastened to his opposite ear. "Sleek," in this instance, is a relative term, given that any piece of technology, regardless of its precise design and polished allure, might as well be a 1950's UNIVAC mainframe once it trespasses onto the human face.
I once theorized that the inexorable advance of technology would one day render arms and legs superfluous and that the human race would evolve into nothing more than a collection of heads replete with ports and plug-ins for cables and peripherals. I just didn't foresee it happening within my lifetime. But that all-powerful and indefatigable shadow-group, The Alliance for the Advancement of Our Cultural Demise (AAOCD), dedicated to separating humans from their souls through technology, has been hard at work, and we're buying what they're selling. In the 21st century, people are born and they die, and in between, they fret over "connectivity."
Bluetooth purrs into the ears of those overwhelmed by their ardor for connectivity, soothingly reassuring them, "You are amply enabled." And they are, at least until the next generation of technology (and we all know technology breeds next generations faster than fruit flies) renders Bluetooth as sexy and relevant as a public pay phone. Mark my words, someday soon the AAOCD will provide us with an easier way to stay connected. Rather than being required to physically fasten an implement to one's head in order to connect—a non-value-added activity and productivity killer—why not surgically implant a communications device—say, in one's tooth, for example—so it's always there?
Whoops. I'm not so prescient after all; it's already on the drawing board. I found the following description of a prototype device on a Web site dedicated to "Research and design information for mobile community developers": A micro-vibration device and a wireless receiver are implanted in the tooth during routine dental surgery and sound is transferred from the tooth into the inner ear by bone resonance, converting digital signals to audio. Soon we'll need 75-page instructional manuals for our bicuspids, and I'll fondly reminisce about that day in a locker room when the sight of Bluetooth mounted on a naked man's ear reassured me that he was just pretentious, not schizophrenic.
Believe me, I'm well aware that if humankind had been dependent upon people like me for advancement throughout the ages, I'd be sitting in the dirt right now trying to coax a few termites out of their mound for my next meal. I'm well aware of how magnificently hypocritical I am as I sit in my climate-controlled home on a soft chair with a belly full of reduced-fat potato chips criticizing technology via my laptop. But we've reached a time, I believe, when communications technology's utility has become secondary to its user's vanity.
It's a cliché to compare anything to the moon launch, I know, but what the hell. NASA sent a man to the moon with less-sophisticated technology than that fastened to the naked man's ear, yet NASA managed to (say it aloud for emphasis) send a man to the moon. The naked man, on the other hand, made a phone call he surely could have delayed until he got to his car...or at least put on some underwear. Am I a cynic for thinking that part of his motivation for making that call when and where he did was to demonstrate his importance to a roomful of strangers?
Society is rapidly segmenting into those who use Bluetooth and those who make fun of those who use Bluetooth. I've obviously staked my position, and as a guard against further hypocrisy, I've instructed all family and friends to belittle me mercilessly should they ever witness me going about my daily life oblivious to a technical apparatus anchored to my head—even if that apparatus enables my full connectivity with signals that hop among 79 frequencies at 1 MHz intervals to give a high degree of interference immunity!
Michael Stuhlreyer is a business writer, a graphic designer, and president of Stuhlreyer Business Instruments, LLC., a Nashville-based firm specializing in the creation of marketing and sales support materials, as well as articles, case studies, and product profiles for technology companies. Contact Mike at
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