Machines

'Cannot you see, cannot all you lecturers see, that it is we that are dying, and that down here the only thing that really lives is the Machine? We created the Machine, to do our will, but we cannot make it do our will now. It has robbed us of the sense of space and of the sense of touch, it has blurred every human relation and narrowed down love to a carnal act, it has paralysed our bodies and our wills, and now it compels us to worship it. The Machine develops - but not on our lies. The Machine proceeds - but not to our goal. We only exist as the blood corpuscles that course through its arteries, and if it could work without us, it would let us die.' - E.M Forster, The Machine Stops 1909

In a lecture today about 'Machines' in the modern period, Dr S Connor brought up this quote by E.M Forster. I read it. And read it. And read it. I think i lost track of the lecture for a few minutes because I felt so struck by the quote. Its desperation, its truth, its threat.

I thought of the two lines of commuters on MRT trains looking at screens. I thought of the sinking feeling I get when people check their phone during conversation and I ask myself 'Am I not interesting enough?'

Since coming to England, I've come to both love and loathe machines with a greater passion. I use it to keep in touch with family and friends. I know that there is a chance of actually seeing their faces through fibre cable optics and pixels. I can write about how I'm feeling and what I'm doing one day and have them see it on the same day.

But at the same time, since coming here I've spent more time on technology than I want to. It's mostly youtube - I think there's something about living alone that makes you crave sound, noise, music, anything to fill your silence.

A couple of days ago, when I was having a short walking - break during an evening run, I suddenly became intensely aware that I had hands. And two legs that were moving despite me hardly thinking of moving them. They were moving simply because I wasn't thinking of not moving them - How strange! How wonderful! I realised I had skin all over my body and that underneath that skin was a highway of blood vessels rushing around everywhere supplying my cells with oxygen, which travels through a complex tubing system and comes in through my nose and mouth. I am human, I am created, I am complex and I am alive.

Why do my hands spend so much time typing? They could be sculpting clay, they could be picking a leaf out of my bicycle basket, or a ladybird out of my hair, they could be holding someone else's hand. I think we've reached a point where we really need to learn to look up. We need to create a mutual understanding that people don't have to be on their phones all day. That not liking an instagram post or not replying to a whatsapp message or not posting a Facebook 'Happy Birthday' is not tantamount to a statement of dislike.

I imposed a Youtube ban on myself this week, and the next, and forever. I still do go on occasionally, but only when I want to watch something I know is inspiring, or useful. The only video I watched this week was of a man, who, listening to classical music, also realised he had hands. I've realised that since stopping watching so many videos I've started singing a lot more to fill the silence with my own voice.