Our ancestors huddled around the campfire, and as they peered into the darkness they could see the light reflected back at them from many eyes: the vole, the fox, the wolf, the lynx, the jackal. The creatures are curious, and probably hungry. They are biding their time. Or at least, this is the modern urban dweller’s imagining of one primal scene.
I turn off the lights in our bedroom, and likewise see multiple eyes staring back at me in the darkness. The TV set, the DVD player, the digital clock, the computer power cord, even the on/off switch on my bedside reading lamp, helpfully showing me where I can get more light the instant I need it. Over in the next room, the red light on my wife’s fancy Japanese iron blinks like a lighthouse, alerting her that it has safely powered down for the night. The lords of technology have seen to it that we will never be lonely: our devices have eyes to keep us company. (Seriously, can’t electronic equipment just be off? I would like to be able to retreat for just a few hours from the artificial Umwelt of modern life.)
