Like an ape with a bone: my rant on technology

The difference between a Tycho Monolith and a Kindle Fire? They may look the same, but only one works in a reliable, albeit creepy, fashion. It’s funny that, in my effort to read Arthur C. Clarke’s “3001 – The Final Odyssey” on my Kindle Fire, a novel where reliance on technology is tantamount to the success of human exploration, I find I can’t trust my Fire to keep a charge.
The Fire is a year old – a gift to myself at 40. It’s a wonderful device when it works the way Amazon says it will. And it does follow the guidelines plotted out on the Kindle Fire seller’s page – especially for the first six months. Now it runs sluggy, blinks often, and to top all else, won’t charge correctly, if at all.
I have the number to wait for tech support; I have the ability to order and wait for a replacement, message boards and the like for what little assistance they provide - all the tools available for a problem tech support and message boards never have answers to.
What I don’t have is access to the digital science fiction novel I wanted to read tonight. This reason, more than any other, lends credence to the argument that print books will never die. They won’t, so long as glitchy tech remains the only constant in an ever-evolving electronic world. And glitchy tech isn’t going anywhere. The opposite seems to be the future in fact, as goober batteries, distracted charging connectors, drooping backlights, and horrific operating systems seem to be getting more and more problematic with every new gadget slapped on the virtual shelf. These days products should come with a “this one might work” warranty.
In the future, technology is
reliable. In the present, reading is
glitchy at best.You can’t trust the technology, but you can always read a print book – even by candlelight should the power blink off. I first read “2001 A Space Odyssey” and “2010 Odyssey Two” in print. I finally got around to “2061 Odyssey Three” on my Fire. It was around this time the charger got loose and I had to jiggle it carefully just to make a connection for the charge. But it still worked, so I held on in the hopes it wouldn’t get worse. Then the damn thing got worse. And now, when I want a quiet night of reading, holding my tea in one hand and the Fire in the other, with nicely pressed sweat pants and perfect slippers on my feet (akin to the hypnotic Kindle ads), I find myself wishing I’d purchased the print version of Clarke’s final tale in the series, maybe from a used bookstore if I can find one.
Dave Bowman likely read his books from a screen while Frank Poole slurped on his lunch beside him. But that technology could be trusted to work reliably when needed, to a point.
Hal did screw them over like a red-eyed cycloptic Terminator. But the basics of their craft were reliable.
In reality, the way it works these days, I would be scared to death were I nestled inside The Discovery – not because of the Tycho Monolith or the Europans, but because I can’t rely on a simply tablet when I want to read a book. Why in God’s name would I trust a rocketship?
The original "2001" published in 1968, in an era when appliances were built to last lifetimes: refrigerators, televisions, and more were forged for long-term use. Repair men were employed to work on whatever issue developed over time, but the appliances were built to last. These days they’re built to be thrown away – such is our disposable culture – and disposable means you’ll be frustrated as hell in about a year.
I can’t help but wonder; what would Hal do? He’d buy a book with pages.