The other day I ran over a tweet. I didn’t mean too, but it darted out it front of my car before I could stop. Truth be known, I’ve probably plowed into thousands of tweets in the last year. The same goes for text messages, e-mails and facebook status updates. The point is, all this stuff is flying through the air around us…bouncing from satellite to cell phone tower to antenna and back again.
Even as I write this, an album of Gregorian chants is flying through the air onto my iPod (I’ll be spending a lot of time in ancient ruins a couple of weeks from now and monks make the perfect soundtrack.) According to Wikipedia, these chants are the oldest music known to man, dating back to the 10th century. They were created during a time when people were dirty and rough. Most never traveled more than a few miles from their villages. But now these chants have traveled through thin air right into my laptop.
Ancient song, meet modern technology.
In my mind, every time I step outside I’m being knocked silly by all the information zooming through the atmosphere. A little like this, but not as malevolent:
Now imagine those birds multiplied by millions and millions of messages a day, all around the world.
Think about it the next time you go outside–think about the waves and waves of information (most of it useless) billowing around you. We’re wading through other people’s stuff. You might’ve stepped on the text I sent my sister. I might’ve swatted at the e-mail you sent your spouse. Spam is slamming into my roof right now, but thanks to my force fields, it’s not getting through. Does it give up and go next door?
Really, I wonder if there’s a breaking point…or can the atmosphere just absorb an infinite amount of this stuff?
Oh, and if that was your tweet I squished, sorry.