Jeff Bezos sells me a holodeck.
Not as fully-appointed as the facilities you’ve seen on television, but the part of me that reads has never been happier in my LIFE
But there are people who recoil at this
I am one of those people. I think it’s gross. The devil’s agreement one makes with this device is that you permit an enormous corporation an outpost in your backyard.
It skeeves me a little. I think it should skeeve anyone.
It’s in your house, it’s on your network, it’s handling your data:
A multi billion dollar company.
Hoovering up data about the things you put into your BRAIN. Explicitly. Because you want it to.
Because you need more shit for your brain. You’re hooked on feeding it now.
I put up with this revolting transhumanism—consumer cognitively parasitized by corporation—because the upsides are, well, magical.
You tell the thing what you want to read.
30 seconds later, you are reading it.
This is some Reading Rainbow ACID TRIP shit.
The convenience of summoning any book you want, at any time, even if it’s 3 AM and the book shop is closed.
No weight penalty. Nothing heavy to haul around.
The process is so painless.