Google Glaze
I had a conversation with my computer yesterday. No, really, I found myself playing charades with Google while I was searching for an answer that was just inches from my grasp. The staring camera captured smiles and an expression that “looked like” joy, but five minutes into this conversation, I noticed a void in the back of my mind’s eye that actually ached for a real person. Is this normal?
I spend so much time clicking on links that my street credibility is starting to wane. “Look at me,” my homie said. “Look at me and tell me how you’re doing.” My glazed eyes came back to focus. Our conversation had just moved to another room. “I’m back now,” I said. “And yes, I’m doing fine.”
Well, tell me what you’re thinking. Tell me what’s next. In a world from stripes to stars, what threads will hold me together? I looked at my homie, in his blue shirt and khaki pants, and refrained from reaching for his hand. Instead, I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a list.
“It says right here we’ve both been good.”
My dinner was served on a ceramic plate that couldn’t be washed on a light wooden tea table stained with paint from last year’s Thanksgiving. I fell to my seat with a “whoomp” and a whisper of relief. The sweet potatoes were not just potatoes, but Google searched potatoes with brown sugar, butter, salt, cream, cinnamon, and marshmallows. I was alone with my computer and my potatoes.
What I was engaged in yesterday was a quest for a meeting of the minds. But reaching beyond a point and a click involves listening – really listening – to another human being. This art might be so simple, if not for what was hidden just below the pretty program. Inside, a door still to many boundaries unbroken.