<p>I browse for a book and my computer hints, “You might like this, that and the other.” </p>.<p>I have a strong suspicion that my computer is gradually taking over my life. How else can I account for the fact that it predicts my wishes, my secret longings and even my thoughts well before I have acknowledged them myself? Even who I send mail to is not my own decision. I decide to send a quiet mail to a friend and it silently rebukes me for becoming inclusive. “Add x, y and...?” it says in rhetorical vein. “Not this time.” I want to shout back.<br /><br />I look for a book and it presumes it knows all my interests. “You might like this, that and the other,” it says, seemingly politely but with a hint of authority. I find myself muttering justifications of why I prefer this book over the other 50 paraded before me. Now the tone has changed to, “Usha, here is your reading list.” I thought my student days were done with. Things have reached such a pass that I can’t even look for information about a place to visit. It then throws me into disorder by suggesting a score of other, better (?) places, great bargains, hotels...! “Have I chosen the right place?” it makes me ask myself.<br /> <br />You would say I have not mastered the computer and you would be right. How else do you account for the fact that one fine morning I open my documents list and find that every one of the documents has been duplicated 5 times? Is it trying to tell me I am losing my memory and therefore, should keep multiple back-ups? Forget doing crossword puzzles to keep Alzheimers at bay. Just figure out what con the computer is up to. That mental exercise will keep anything away, including your wits. <br /><br />When you open your documents and find that all the titles have inexplicably switched from an A to Z sequence to the complete opposite, you have not ‘lost’ it. It is just the computer’s way to help you order your life all over again. If you suffer from Shakespeare-mania as I do, and have happily chosen passwords from his works, one misspelt letter and it comes back with pretty obvious clues. “Try Avon, Bard, Hamlet, Verona...”<br /><br />Now it is looking over my shoulder at my secret password life. The other day I was asked to create a password for a programme I wanted to access. I had barely begun the pleasurable exercise of picking a quote from a beloved author, when it gleefully gave me suggestions from a number of my favourite books! In no time, my life will be bared for all to see.<br /><br />Fortunately, Facebook and I have not crossed paths. Otherwise, my deepest emotions, moods and responses would be out there. Is there nothing I can take to my grave? No mystery I can leave behind? Or should I look upon my laptop as an intimate from whom I have no secrets, who anticipates my every need, and cushions me from falling apart? As Hamlet might have added, perhaps there is a special providence in the touch of a keyboard.</p>
<p>I browse for a book and my computer hints, “You might like this, that and the other.” </p>.<p>I have a strong suspicion that my computer is gradually taking over my life. How else can I account for the fact that it predicts my wishes, my secret longings and even my thoughts well before I have acknowledged them myself? Even who I send mail to is not my own decision. I decide to send a quiet mail to a friend and it silently rebukes me for becoming inclusive. “Add x, y and...?” it says in rhetorical vein. “Not this time.” I want to shout back.<br /><br />I look for a book and it presumes it knows all my interests. “You might like this, that and the other,” it says, seemingly politely but with a hint of authority. I find myself muttering justifications of why I prefer this book over the other 50 paraded before me. Now the tone has changed to, “Usha, here is your reading list.” I thought my student days were done with. Things have reached such a pass that I can’t even look for information about a place to visit. It then throws me into disorder by suggesting a score of other, better (?) places, great bargains, hotels...! “Have I chosen the right place?” it makes me ask myself.<br /> <br />You would say I have not mastered the computer and you would be right. How else do you account for the fact that one fine morning I open my documents list and find that every one of the documents has been duplicated 5 times? Is it trying to tell me I am losing my memory and therefore, should keep multiple back-ups? Forget doing crossword puzzles to keep Alzheimers at bay. Just figure out what con the computer is up to. That mental exercise will keep anything away, including your wits. <br /><br />When you open your documents and find that all the titles have inexplicably switched from an A to Z sequence to the complete opposite, you have not ‘lost’ it. It is just the computer’s way to help you order your life all over again. If you suffer from Shakespeare-mania as I do, and have happily chosen passwords from his works, one misspelt letter and it comes back with pretty obvious clues. “Try Avon, Bard, Hamlet, Verona...”<br /><br />Now it is looking over my shoulder at my secret password life. The other day I was asked to create a password for a programme I wanted to access. I had barely begun the pleasurable exercise of picking a quote from a beloved author, when it gleefully gave me suggestions from a number of my favourite books! In no time, my life will be bared for all to see.<br /><br />Fortunately, Facebook and I have not crossed paths. Otherwise, my deepest emotions, moods and responses would be out there. Is there nothing I can take to my grave? No mystery I can leave behind? Or should I look upon my laptop as an intimate from whom I have no secrets, who anticipates my every need, and cushions me from falling apart? As Hamlet might have added, perhaps there is a special providence in the touch of a keyboard.</p>
