Lord of Chaos
Elder Member
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Here's a science fiction story I wrote for class T<em>here was a time when I thought that the effect on society of computers and human interaction was minimal.</em><em>How could I have been so foolish? </em>The man thought, tiredly, as he walked down the dark street late at night. The few street lights still in operation barely illuminate the sidewalk, and cars lost their headlights long ago. All around him, people walked by in a daze. He looked each one in the eye, trying to find a single other person without the tell-tale wiring around the iris of a visual implant, but as always he failed. <em>Can't they see what this is doing to them?</em> A young woman passed by, her mouth twitching slightly along the edges. For a moment, a frown seemed to get through the facial paralysis normally a part of the implants. <em>Maybe she understands. Maybe she can see how alone she is and that's why she's feeling sad. </em>The man looked around again. A million people on this street alone and nobody was talking. There were no children playing, nobody meeting up, not even the formerly omnipresent shouting that seemed to accompany city life. Ever since those implants became popular, nobody seemed to just talk to each other anymore. Even the street signs seemed dead, nothing but an augmented reality pattern, waiting to be scanned and translated. He thought back to the days before the implant, when bright billboards, shining lights and loud noises were everywhere. Wearily, the man sighed. <em>It must be terrible, to be so alone.</em> A young woman walked down the street, the virtual avatars of her friends hovering nearby, looking as real as if they had been there in person. The entire street was alight with virtual displays, from Augmented Reality ads to the dozens of layers of stores in each visual channel. The implant augmented the low ambient light and compared it with the data it has on what the place looks like during the day to create the illusion of a well-lit public street around midday. A million wild creatures walked past her, their implants broadcasting appropriate avatar data which her eyes automatically accepted and let her see, censored according to her personal settings. As she passed each person, her ocular implants automatically scanned them and received profile data, comparing it against hers for any possible connections. Every few minutes it would find a match and she'd chat briefly, sub vocalizing one conversation while using a thought interface for three more. She laughed at one of her friends telling a joke while helping another with his class work, but the implants kept the emotions of each interaction separate to prevent contamination. A worried-looking man passed her on the street, sighing regularly. She noticed that he didn't have an implant when she received no profile data regarding him. She frowned briefly, feeling pity for him. <em>He can't connect with people like I can. The poor man. </em>She turned her attention back to her friends and the softly pulsing list of people she may want to meet hovering at the edge of her peripheral vision. <em>It must be terrible, to be so alone.</em>
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Here's a science fiction story I wrote for class T<em>here was a time when I thought that the effect on society of computers and human interaction was minimal.</em><em>How could I have been so foolish? </em>The man thought, tiredly, as he walked down the dark street late at night. The few street lights still in operation barely illuminate the sidewalk, and cars lost their headlights long ago. All around him, people walked by in a daze. He looked each one in the eye, trying to find a single other person without the tell-tale wiring around the iris of a visual implant, but as always he failed. <em>Can't they see what this is doing to them?</em> A young woman passed by, her mouth twitching slightly along the edges. For a moment, a frown seemed to get through the facial paralysis normally a part of the implants. <em>Maybe she understands. Maybe she can see how alone she is and that's why she's feeling sad. </em>The man looked around again. A million people on this street alone and nobody was talking. There were no children playing, nobody meeting up, not even the formerly omnipresent shouting that seemed to accompany city life. Ever since those implants became popular, nobody seemed to just talk to each other anymore. Even the street signs seemed dead, nothing but an augmented reality pattern, waiting to be scanned and translated. He thought back to the days before the implant, when bright billboards, shining lights and loud noises were everywhere. Wearily, the man sighed. <em>It must be terrible, to be so alone.</em> A young woman walked down the street, the virtual avatars of her friends hovering nearby, looking as real as if they had been there in person. The entire street was alight with virtual displays, from Augmented Reality ads to the dozens of layers of stores in each visual channel. The implant augmented the low ambient light and compared it with the data it has on what the place looks like during the day to create the illusion of a well-lit public street around midday. A million wild creatures walked past her, their implants broadcasting appropriate avatar data which her eyes automatically accepted and let her see, censored according to her personal settings. As she passed each person, her ocular implants automatically scanned them and received profile data, comparing it against hers for any possible connections. Every few minutes it would find a match and she'd chat briefly, sub vocalizing one conversation while using a thought interface for three more. She laughed at one of her friends telling a joke while helping another with his class work, but the implants kept the emotions of each interaction separate to prevent contamination. A worried-looking man passed her on the street, sighing regularly. She noticed that he didn't have an implant when she received no profile data regarding him. She frowned briefly, feeling pity for him. <em>He can't connect with people like I can. The poor man. </em>She turned her attention back to her friends and the softly pulsing list of people she may want to meet hovering at the edge of her peripheral vision. <em>It must be terrible, to be so alone.</em>
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