Cyborgs

Cyborgs everywhere, in the streets, on the trams, mobile phone in hand, head phones in their ears and iPod's close to their body. Vibrations of the hard-drive penetrate their flesh, sounds penetrate their mind. They're connected to their music, their friends and their fantasies. No longer just an instrument, technology is an extension of their body, their memory, their life. And everything else is closed out. You can't talk to them, they're absorbed in their own world. 'Excuse me', I say to the girl sitting next to me in the tram, 'Would you mind turning down your music because all I can hear is a high pitched repetitive sound? But she doesn't answer, she's sending a text with her thumbs moving at lightning speed, juggling the novel on her lap and listening to music. I tap her gently on the shoulder ~ 'Would you mind...', my voice trails, it's no use, she's cocooned, enveloped in an invisible protective shield. Things aren't so different I guess, I remember falling asleep most nights in the sixties, transistor radio on, headphones in my ears and twenty years later listening to cassette tapes on my Walkman. The world suddenly became cinematic, instead of a quiet ride on a tram along the Yarra River, I could accompany the scenes with the heroic and passionate sounds of Wagner or the pounding goth beat of Nine Inch Nails. Technology changes, but people don't. We all want our own private space, to think, to feel, to hear.