Machinery of Life

The Machinery of Life

An interesting aspect of culture (in the anthropological sense, that is), is the fact that we are so largely unconscious of it and seldom reflect long or deeply upon what we are doing. We live our day-to-day lives pretty much oblivious of what we are doing and what it might be doing to us. Consider, if you will, the machinery that regulates our lives from morning to night, and think of our awesome dependence upon that machinery.

Although I doubt that any statistics exist to bear me out, I’m personally convinced that the machine that starts our day, the alarm clock, must surely shorten the lives of those unfortunate enough to have to depend on it for any ext ended period of time. What a shock to the system, that awful din that startles one from a blissful sleep into anxious activity, anticipating assignments, assignations, and other assorted events, often with artful anonymous dodgers one is unlikely to ever see again. This first traumatic event simply begins a series of encounters between men and machines not only unprecedented in human affairs, but also downright mind-boggling (as we say these days).

Next, depending upon your personal habits, comes the electric toothbrush and razor (although all toothbrushes and razors, no matter how simple, are machines of sorts), followed by the shower (also a mechanical gadget). I am ignoring light switches as there are far too many of them to worry about (but if they don’t work you have to pay attention to them). After your ablutions you are faced with the refrigerator, toaster, stove, perhaps an electric can opener and juicer. And, of course, while you are consuming your breakfast you are most probably either listening to the radio or watching TV to catch the latest news.

Outside the home one is still totally at the mercy of these creations of human ingenuity, these mute and not so mute machines that guide and control our almost every movement. The garage door opener, without which one would (ugh) be forced to manually operate. And of course, next comes that most marvelous machine of all Los Angelenos, and, indeed, most of the civilized world by now, the automobile. You had better hope it starts and doesn’t have a flat or some other ailment. Wonderful invention that it is, it appears to offer us greater independence than ever before – and perhaps it does, but not when it exists in proximity to the machines that regulate it, those tall three-eyed sentinels that stand strategically at every corner or hang from above to tell you and your automobile, as well as pedestrians, just what is what. Heaven forbid that you should let your poor human judgment allow you to violate their better judgment – big brother will be watching on his or her faster and better equipped machine.

If, as is usual, you successfully negotiate these benevolent artificial watchdogs, you may well confront still another example of the genre that will allow you to park, but only after extorting some form of payment either on the spot or later. But assuming that the code on your plastic parking card is correct, and further assuming the machinery that raises and lowers the barrier up and down is not malfunctioning, you arrive at last at your place of business. Not quite, of course, there is still the elevator. Elevators, at least some of them of my acquaintance, appear to have independent minds. They come and go as they wish, not as I always like them to do. But not to worry, one typically does get to the office (I have decided to omit locks and keys as well as light switches, this is not meant to denigrate their importance, lest I offend one or another of them and it refuses to cooperate with me anymore).

There is probably no place in the ”modern world” where one is more at the mercy of machines than at the office. From the water cooler and the coffee maker right through the telephone and the computer your life is either well-organized and efficient or so disrupted as to leave you either apoplectic or speechless, to say nothing of helpless. Can there be any more frustrating phrase than “the computers are down again?” This is particularly maddening in banks. I have skipped over a whole host of “middle range” or semi-archaic items such as filing cabinets (do the drawers on your always work) desks, typewriters (remember them), cardex files, and even the more mundane necessities such as toilets, sinks, towel dispensers and the like, life can become pretty miserable when they don’t cooperate.

Then at last, when the clock on the wall or the watch on your wrist, or a bell or whistle, tells you it is time to leave you start going through the whole process in reverse (with perhaps a short relaxing stop for a double scotch or martini). The final ironic act being – you guessed it -- having to set the friendly little round face of that very machine that started you on your day. Who says we are not creatures of free-will and determination, rugged individualists?

Note: I wrote this when I still lived in Los Angeles. I am happy to report that things here in North Idaho are somewhat better, but even though we are born free we remain everywhere in chains. A few years ago we acquired our first stoplight. Sigh!