communication breakdown service provider

Your test. Is. Over.
It is your responsibility. now. To return your handsets. And your head. Sets. the batteries and. All related paraphernalia. must be returned.
An. technological experiments. unfortunately Unsuccessful. Your numbers shall all be. Discontinued. equipment Destroyed.
we shall relay the Edict. cite evidence of abusive misuse. and grounds for permanent confiscation. Concentrate:

“The mobile communication technology you have possessed since the early twentieth century, adapted from military usage, as so much of your technology is, has advanced to such a state that you are now incapable of employing a reasonable moderation, of refining and curtailing all domestic, or otherwise personal, use of it. First you installed them in your transport vehicles, and you gave them to businessmen, whose use for them was clearly based on the benefits that such an increase in simple communication could provide – the businessman would effectively never be out of touch with his business. And in a society so much subservient to profit, growth, economy, and so much distressed by the persistence of the individual, mobile technology could sever permanently the umbilical connection of family, and graft it neatly instead onto two mobile handsets between two mobile business-hands. Till then you had done exceedingly well, you had created an executive with a phone on the end of one arm and his paperwork on the other. You could have been a universal superpower – but your businessmen told your engineers things, they thought you could all act like businessmen, they thought they could attach everyone to their great cordless umbilical, crawling its way out from the omphalos City. They swarmed from termite-towers to reach you.

“The market exploded, it was all so cheap, you couldn’t help but cheapen it. Text messaging came and you put it in your phones. Wireless networking came and you put it in your phones. The internet came and you put it in your phones. Computer gaming came and you put it in your phones. Photography and film-making were debased and you put them in your phones, at the expense of all aesthetic, social and cultural merit. The Logos was stripped of its bindings and you reduced it and reduced it, you sealed it behind a screen, it was humiliated, you willingly forsook a direct connection, and you put it in your phones. Television, radio and music became the gateway that guaranteed you were shut out of the community. And so you put it all in your phones. And the community was shut out of you.

“And are you surprised that we think you immature? You, who stare mutely at a screen with all the dumb fascination of an infant, without the cognizance to connect in any meaningful way with anybody else. You, who think you have transcended the physical for the ethereal at last! but no, even this is more ephemeral than the sharp edges of the world outside. The world you have found in your phones is in a perpetual state of wiping itself out – nature simply reconstitutes itself, and it is never truly gone, never truly non-existent, never truly lost. But look how you have changed, all bleeding thumbs and blistered eyeballs:

“The figure who wakes in his bed in the morning, who ignores the plaintive death-song of the paper-boy, flexes his sinister wrist and reads all the news he’ll need to get by in the office off the screen of his alarm clock, that rings in analogue imitation. He checks his emails, because you never know who’ll have spoken to you in the night – was it the self-eulogy of another drunken girlfriend that he doesn’t want the office to see, so he reads it in bed – and he’s happy that at least her life’s in as much of a mess as his. He eats a bar of cornflakes coated in vomit of milk and reads Twitter: somebody’s broken the law and Twitter had to open its big mouth, it had to be the first to tell you, it always is. He’ll check Facebook before he pulls messily out of the driveway: Tony’s said something vaguely misogynistic again, ‘Like’. He calls Tony up on the way into the office: ‘Hi Tone’ and something about hangovers, he’s so smart. It’s a board meeting today, Tony says he’ll definitely be ‘bored’, he’s so smart, he sends Tony an idiotic little face in a text message just so he knows that Tony knows that he understood his razor-sharp bit of wordplay. He bumps into Tony in the bathroom at lunchtime, and Tony spends a long time showing him how much more impressive his new piece of equipment is, Tony lets him hold it in his hand, it certainly feels bigger but it’s not any heavier. In the evening he’ll play on the latest version of Angry Birds, he thinks he’s known his fair share of angry birds, he wishes Tony had heard that joke. At 3AM he sends it in an email from his phone to Tony, who’ll pick it up in the morning.

“That collection of familiars at the party – they used to call themselves friends way back in school – turn a television on to drown out the absence of their conversation. Somebody gets a text message, they vibrate violently through the table, and all the other phones chain-react. Pretty soon the entire party is bent double, face down over their open-drains and spew what little intelligence they’ve left out, turning and grinning occasionally at some amusing morsel. The world’s most discordant chorus. Furious fingers tapping. Would-be Sirens, if they could bring themselves to think about anyone other than themselves for a — if they could just finish a sentence before they — but they just have to answer — second, between each — reply to one more — this — text message. They sing only of themselves, to themselves, they are drawn into the silent whirlpool of their own voice. Sailors, dying for a song, couldn’t tell you what they sound like anymore. Nobody’s heard a voice in years.

“The prenuptial coagulation drag their shame-faced expatriate into the final strip club of his life. ‘All the world’s a stag!’ one of them blasphemes, ‘and we are merely playas!’ And his fearful stasis, and her bodily repulsions, the light reflected off their terrified skin, tells a lie on the camera phones – speaks unfaithful truths and faithful untruths. One misdirected message. The wedding is off.

“She won’t talk to Him because he won’t reply to her messages. Him has no missed calls. She says of course I wouldn’t call you, why would I call you if you won’t reply to my messages? Him thinks if it was that important you should have called. She doesn’t think Him really cares. About what? About anything. Him points out the message was only sent three hours ago. ONLY. Him wonders if this blink of the universal eyeball is really such a long time to wait. Him will send her a letter, handwritten, tomorrow, he will expect a reply within four to six weeks. The text comes across as bitter sarcastic, not affectionate sarcastic. Him laments the absence of an irony key. She hasn’t replied yet and Him sent the message nearly three hours ago. Him wonders if he’s done something wrong.

“‘We need to talk’. Till recently these four harbingers of apocalypse would be uttered voice-to-voice, shortly followed by apocalypse. As text message it has been known to drive people literally to the point of insanity, their anxiety of apocalypse annihilates sound judgement. Life ticks. Unbearably. Away. Nobody would know the time of their death, given choice.

“Everybody she ever knew could be reached at the touch of a button. She was never truly happy to see anyone anymore.

“Tantalus had been told how life-changing an iPhone could be. Just as he reached out for one, somebody else told him how an Android would revolutionise his day-to-day business. He turned to grab this instead. Somebody cooed over the iPhone. Somebody aahed over the Android. Tantalus wept.

“Nobody never told Anybody it was only a phone. Anybody didn’t want to know that it was only a phone, but secretly Everybody knew this.

“Corporation told a Consumer that he was an individual. He showed Consumer a phone. Corporation told a different Consumer he was also an individual. He showed Consumer the same phone. Corporation told Consumers it was important that individuals should have this phone, and they both bought it – good and proper.

“Somebody’s phone went off in the classroom. Teacher shot Somebody in the face, just like she’d promised.

So you see. we must confiscate this technology. for your own benefit.
The voice that had leaked through the static stopped. The Walkie Talkie was quiet.
Over? – said Johnny.




One Response to “communication breakdown service provider”

  1. bALDcRUSADERmAN Says:

    I blame Steve Jobs

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