Kicking and screaming, I’ve made a big down payment on my dues as a member of the 21st century. At long last I have a cell phone, though with the umbilical-like security of the same number I’ve been reached at for over a quarter century.
Though I feel technologically virtuous having abandoned my landline, I can’t help but sense a little disloyalty toward my long-time home. For the first time in about a hundred years, the house has no phone, no distinctive voice in the form of a ringtone.
Cell phones are as personal as wristwatches, their in-your-pocket convenience giving rise to a world where people respond from disparate places, but you know exactly who will pick up. Landlines are part of buildings and are shared by whoever is nearby to grab the receiver. They belong to an address more than individuals, and calls are to a place not a person.
The wireless future will change not just how we communicate, but the way in which we experience buildings. It’s not unlike a world where watches eliminate the need for every clock now hanging on walls or blinking from a stove or electronic device. Of course, with the time brightly lit on my cell phone, who needs a watch?
