As my saga of the "house without internet" enters its sixth and (supposedly) next-to-last day, I can't help but wonder how internet access became such a dangerous weapon that they had to implement a seven day waiting period before you could get it installed. I remarked the other day that internet providers can get away with dragging their heels when it comes to installing service in a way that the water and electric companies can't, because lack of internet isn't going to prevent you from lighting your house...or bathing yourself...or preparing food...or brushing your teeth. In comparison to such basic necessities, the internet is just a toy, right?
But as I've gone through the past week without internet access in my new residence, I've come to realize just how dependent upon the net I've actually become. Thankfully, I've got relatives in town, so anytime I've really needed to get online this week (in order to publish this site, for instance), I've been able to do so. But what if that little fallback plan of mine didn't exist? And what of the various internet dependencies that aren't worth traveling to someone else's house just to take advantage of? It turns out that the list of such dependencies has grown quite a bit longer than I'd realized.
If I wanted to check how much money I had in my bank account right now, for instance, there's no way I could do that without actually traveling to the bank and tapping away at the ATM screen. But then it occurred to me that not ten years ago, the bank only told you how much money you had in your account once per month, and in the mean time it was up to you to keep track of it all, using...pencil and a paper checkbook. I know that many people still use that method, but I'm now far enough removed from it that it's nothing more than a fading memory. And yet, without internet access, I find myself suddenly scrambling for a pencil.
I'd heard that "The Day After Tomorrow" was good, and wanted to find out what times it was playing at the theater. And when I remembered that lack of net access meant no Sherlock, no Yahoo Movies, no Fandango, it actually took me a moment to try and recall how you found out movie times before the internet took over that role. Ah yeah, the newspaper, that's it. Don't seem to have one of those around here, and don't feel like driving to the store just to buy one, either. I suppose I could always call the theater, but without the internet, how would I look up the theater's phone number? I mean, do they even still print paper phone books?
Even access to unimportant information suddenly seems conspicuous by its absence. Not only do I not know whether the Marlins won last night, I don't even know whether they're still in first place. What little time on the internet I've had each day this past week, I've tried to spend on more important things: publishing the site. Reading (if not responding to nearly enough of) my email. Doing at least some semblance of "homework" as far as keeping up with the happenings in the Macintosh universe, although not nearly enough to feel as if I really know everything that's going on right now. It's enough to feel like you're vacationing on Mars, and getting your information via Morse Code.
Well, our friendly cable guy shows up tomorrow, and then I'm presumably back to reality. But it's been interesting to take a step back away from the internet and get a taste of just how much of my daily life has come to depend on its existence. And unlike some who fear that we've gone too digital too fast, I don't see our increasing dependence on the internet as a bad thing. Our society is now fully dependent on electricity, for instance, and I don't hear too many people suggesting that we go back to using candlelight simply to limit our dependence. Not that it's not a bad idea to keep a candle or two in a drawer, just in case.
But whether you like it or not, the internet is very quickly becoming less of a neat toy, and more of a basic need. It's on its way to becoming one of those utilities that, before too much longer, the company won't be able to get away with leaving you to do without for seven days at a time...any more than they could leave you for that long without electrical power or running water.
On the other hand, I've gone six days without television in the house, and I've barely noticed. It would seem that, over time, some things actually get less relevant.
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