Start setting aside egg beaters, right now. Trust me. Why? I’ll explain.
In 10 years you’ll read stories about people who make a nice living selling antique egg beaters, because people don’t like the newfangled ones that require internet connectivity. Sure, at first it seemed cool — you could track your egg beating and share it with your friends. But then hackers got into the apps and made the egg beaters attack you.
Silly? Well, perhaps you saw a story in last week’s Star Tribune about farmers who like old tractors, because they’re not dependent on the internet.
I completely understand. Let me tell you a little story of modern times — its boons, trials, absurdities and other words authors turn to when they’re not sure if they can fill out the word count this week.
You, of course, have heard of noise-canceling headphones. “Sorry, what was that?” you say. “I was wearing noise-canceling headphones and couldn’t hear you.” Let me rephrase. YOU KNOW ABOUT THOSE HEADPHONES THAT TUNE OUT THE WORLD? (Note that I am also kicking you lightly in the shin.)
“Sure,” you say. “They’re the hot thing. They’re great for walking around, listening to music and not hearing approaching sirens as you cross the street.” I bought a pair for airplane trips. The first time I switched them on it was absolute sorcery. The world fell away. The engines, the noisy passengers, the baby whose given name was probably Colic Galore — gone.
Last year I got a new pair, because they were wireless, and only pitiful OK Boomers have wires. What are you listening to with your wires, recordings of a player piano?
The new ones came with an app so I could control the settings on my phone, recalibrate to new noise levels, change where I wanted the sound to originate. I could make the music sound like it was coming from behind me in case I wanted to pretend I was being stalked by the New York Philharmonic.
And it won’t work. The screen is locked. At this point I am thinking, “I don’t care how much of my personal data this thing collects and sells, I just want it to work. Please work! There is a baby crying six rows back, and I will give up all my privacy in perpetuity to cancel the noise.”
The headphones connected. Alas, I forgot to turn airplane mode back on, which is why I am writing this from Peru. Navigation went out, but we made it down.
Either way, industrial agriculture collapses and everyone starves. So I repeat how I began this missive: Start saving up egg beaters now, so you can make breakfast in the post-crash world. Chickens aren’t connected to the internet. Yet.