Bookmark #492

Everything is on time now. No letters arrive late; no telegrams are delayed. The weather does not stop our transport permanently, and the packages, despite irritating logistics, are delivered. All the responsibility falls on us now. This is a problem, of course, for we, people, like blaming fate for all our tragedy, but the message is never late anymore. It is only us who are too late; we are always to blame. It was always our fault, but now, we cannot hide behind an excuse.

No lover can tell the other that the letter was too late, stolen or burned, that they did not read it before kissing another. No death can be shrugged off for an ounce of false comfort, for there is no uncertainty. The news travels all too fast. Everything has to be coped with, and we are not so good at so much coping. No one can up and leave, only to start a new life in some other place with a new name. People cannot leave each other behind altogether. People of the old revelled in a luxury we cannot begin to imagine. They enjoyed the uncertainty in communication.

This responsibility is the modern tragedy. All our words arrive now: we cannot rely on the happenstance of fate. Fate is an outdated idea in a world that no longer depends on it. There are checks and balances at every corner. There are a thousand ways to communicate immediately at a stone’s throw for each person. Our problems rise and fall in this certainty: every message will arrive. Everything we have to say has a way to be said. We cannot make excuses over distance or time; we know we are only fooling ourselves, and so does everyone else.

It is a heavy burden to carry. We all need someone to blame for things that have happened to us. While some still have their Gods, you cannot blame the mailman anymore. You cannot blame the operator for disconnecting you before you said I love you. No messages are written down wrong, causing a collision course or happy accident. Most often, you will have to blame yourself. It is the subtle tragedy of technology. It is a responsibility unlike any other.

There is no such thing as fate, as far as words are concerned. All our messages arrive, at all times, always.

// if you want to support this walk to nowhere, you can pitch in here