Geoff Duncan

I know I'm revealing dweeb-ism here but bear with me. There's an early-ish episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation wherein the Gallant Enterprise Crew first encounters The Borg. The Borg are supposed to be a blending of organic life and artificial technology; individual Borg are drones, each a tiny component of a greater conscious Collective. Having no need for cool-looking ships, Borg fly around the galaxy in giant pipe-and-panel-strewn cubes; having no need of fashion, Borg plod about wordlessly with laser eyepieces, prosthetic limbs, pale skin, and tube-and-wire-sprouting black S&M outfits. They're tough, efficient, and powerful, single-mindedly destroying and/or assimilating every technology or species they encounter. The Borg Collective was "new" Trek's most successful villain, continually re-appearing as ultimate baddies in subsequent movies and television series. They even had their own incidental music.

There's an eerie moment in this first encounter where Our Heroes beam over to the Borg ship. No alarms go off; no defense systems activate; no Borg are around. For a few minutes Our Heroes stumble around with tricorders blinking, scratching their heads. "He-llo?!" they must be thinking. "We're right here!" But normal rules of boarding alien vessels without an invitation don't apply: when Our Heros do find actual Borg, they simply continue their Frankenstein-and-servo-motor lurching, moseying right on by like Our Heroes weren't even there. Our Heroes' presence is inconsequential to the Borg's activity.

Technology seems to do this to people.

One can have a similar experience firsthand at Seattle's Experience Music Project. When one pays the (rather exorbitant) entry fee, one has the option of strapping on a wireless portable device and some headphones while strolling around the exhibits. My understanding is that, once so accoutred, folks are treated to canned music clips and commentary as they move from display to display in the EMP galleries. However, if you don't wear one of these devices the effect is like walking through a Borg spaceship. You thread your way through strange doorways and odd-shaped rooms filled with alien objects; here and there your way is blocked by small knots of people festooned with blinky lights, who have wires coming out of their heads, and who are staring off at some distant point, oblivious to your presence. You are inconsequential to them.

The phenomena is not limited to Seattle's EMP. An acquaintance of mine is one of the warmest people you could ever hope to meet. Intelligent, funny, polite, sharp as a tack. He also happens to be blind. Last month, he asked "Have you heard people describe me as rude? Because I've had that come back to me a couple times in the last few weeks, and I don't know where it's coming from." Talking further, we agreed it's probably coming from cell phone users. In times past, if my friend was walking through the hallways at his workplace and heard someone step up and say "Hey, how's it going?" or "Hello, may I help you?" he could reasonably assume he was being addressed by a sighted person. Often he would recognize the voice, and would reply. "Hey, Sara, how are you today?" But common courtesy doesn't work anymore because some folks with a particular technology—in this case, cell phones—have decided it's perfectly acceptable to have their side of a telephone conversation at any time, in public, talking into thin air, and expect polite privacy from anybody in the area. People are now behaving in ways they would have considered rude only a short time ago, in that they treat people around them as if they were invisible or inconsequential. Now, my friend doesn't respond when he hears someone say "Hi! How are you?" or "Hey, got a second?" If you want his attention, you have to speak his name. The irony is that now people think he is being rude.

Apple's iPods may also be evolving social rules. Duke University gave incoming first-year students a free iPod this year, and iPod-related social behaviors seem to have emerged quickly. Some upperclass students deliberately eschewed the iPod's apparently iconic white earbuds in favor of headphones from other manufacturers, explicitly to show they were not a first-year freebie recipient. (I don't know if they do this because they don't like Apple and/or iPods, or because they're miffed they didn't get a free one. Perhaps both.) If a person is listening to their iPod in public, having both headphones in one's ears seems to be the equivalent of Do Not Disturb. You are inconsequential. One headphone dangling loose? Available: I'm listening to my tunes, but I guess you can talk to me.

Not all people who use cell phones or iPods are rude. Nonetheless, some people are letting their use of technology change their behavior, and often that change is to utterly ignore people who are right there, big as life.

Which seems pretty alien to me.