We’ve published several spanking machine films lately, and in their accompanying blogposts the mindlessness of them has been a recurring theme. A robotic arm, dispassionate, never tiring, never varying, simply striking you with eye-watering precision over and over and over again. But what if that “robotic arm” was intelligent? Just as soulless, just as heartless, but capable of getting inside your mind and figuring out how you tick.
The disturbing thing about this week’s story is its plausibility. How many of us outsource some measure of control over our lives to our phones? To the alarms, the lists, the motivational streaks? “But I’d never get too sucked in”, we tell ourselves; “I know where the line is”. Marilyn probably told herself the same thing.
The hot thing about this week’s story, of course, is waiting right on the other side of that coin. It would be so good, wouldn’t it, to let the responsibilities of adult life become somebody else’s problem. To stop worrying, stop trying to figure it all out. To give in.
Wouldn’t it?
