AFTER THE STORM, AFTER THE CONSUMMATE UPHEAVAL
Illustrated by Diana Bolton
Or perhaps we will split into camps—our society and life- styles divided down the middle like post-WWII Berlin. On one side, AI-powered cyborgs watch HBO Max on their eyelids and buy groceries from Amazon by firing a particular synapse. On the other side, a complete revert to a pre-industrial period—a mass exodus to wilderness sanctuaries, where communities learn to hunt and grow food.We can only hope that it works out for both camps—the Cyborgs depart for another planet, deter- mined to find a new frontier to occupy themselves, thus leaving behind a more peaceful Earth for their prehistoric counterparts. But for now it’s too early to tell. We are in shell shock, still trying to make sense of the unnatural disaster which has torn through our proverbial town. The young ones don’t know the time before the storm, and seem content to occupy themselves with whatever the Daily Mail is post- ing on SnapChat. Others have a nostalgia, or maybe even a mourning for any period before 2000—a time before pocket super computers, when video games seemed like innocent ways to blow off steam, and when looking out the airplane window was excitement enough to get you through a three hour flight. Amongst the confusion of this new normal, we have no choice but to put one foot in front of the other and try to do what we have always done best: adapt.
It is in the remnants of what was left behind where one can truly grow.To be left to start from the beginning is how we might be able to begin again. Why remember how it was before when we can never go back? From now on we can only continue to look forward. The infinite technological storm may have grown most deadly with the advent of TikTok some years ago, and now it’s past over us. In its wake we are left, sifting endlessly through the rubble, searching for whatever scraps of stillness or patience remain amongst the debris. Our new normal is an incessant flickering between streaming services, live sports, social media, emails, and fifth generation gaming consoles. Our attention spans have shrunken to that of a dog. Our expectations of com- fort have risen to that of kings. Our access to information has swelled to a dangerous tide. Every waking moment, the pressure is on to remain occu- pied and satisfied. It’s a burdensome task in a world of conve- nience.What show will you watch while you wait for Uber Eats 10 to arrive? Which emails and texts must be addressed in the 17 minutes before your next Zoom? Which mind-numbing, ad- filled phone game will you become slave to in any moment of transition? The question is how long this can persist. Is this the destiny of our children and our children’s children? Is the evolutionary history of our species to be forever altered? Or is there hope that we might find balance somewhere in our post-patience world? Perhaps the only answer to fight the dopamine waterfalls of which we are often subjected to, is to fight fire with fire—we may soon welcome some Muskian brain chip that will give us enough wherewithal to only use our phones when we truly need it.
— Jack Kelly
10 The kitchen is closed, and Uber Eats is to blame. The pandemic transformed the way we seek food. Uber Eats, the online food and delivery service made ordering food to your door easier than ever. As the worries of the pandemic subside, Uber Eats remains a staple for us all who refuse to re-open the kitchen again. Let us eat cake that has sat for 45 minutes in someone’s Toyota Camry.
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