The television lulls me to sleep; the radio awakens. Machines have raised me, mutiliated and deformed. My friend, my foe, this television, this radio, this computer that sits in front of me; how can I abandon them? They’re all I’ve ever had?
I fear my own thoughts, of where they may take me. I fear what silence may bring. Often, I have thought of suicide, like any thinking person has. I have contemplated the vast absurdities of human existence, of the repression bubbling below saccharine appearances, and of the inessentiality of man in relation to this insanity.
It is to the television or the radio or the computer that I turn in order to ease my restless mind. Is it a frivolous indulgence? No, I passively partake, so passively that it would be an utter overstatement to refer to it as indulgence. It runs in the background, as a form of distraction, a rhythm in tune with my complacent mind. It is the form, rather than the content, that comforts.
The machine is not judgmental. It doesn’t want to exalt itself. It is there to please, like a perfect object should. It does not chastise. It encourages you. Go ahead, sink into the couch. Go ahead, fuck shorty. Do whatever…just as long as you remain in active obedience. Here, here are some products that will make your life that more enjoyable, more convenient, more efficient. All that noise? Ah, don’t worry, pay no attention to it. The professionals are on the job. Obey and you can have your enjoyment. Disobey and you are the exception. Disobey and you are ungrateful. Disobey and you are a traitor. With us? Or against us? There is no other way.
In some ways, on a very real level, this multimedia world of ours is meant to help settle you into a rut. In that rut, you are consumer, customer, and an unthinking tool. How grand! What pain is thought! I don’t need that. I have people, responsible to me through a magic ballot, managing those affairs; those joyless and boring matters. If they fuck up, I can oust them. That is the power of my rights, right?
The question is: can you recognize when they do fuck up? Will every four years be enough to change things, once you are on the slippery slope? Once you are ensnared, is there any way out but to give in? The inescapability of this right we call Freedom. Freedom as a right? Freedom is given. Indulge freely. Enjoy the spoils of our ever-rational progress. But remember, freedom is given to you for a price to be paid later.
When Caesar-in-the-machine demands the ultimate tribute, you capitulate or else it will be taken to both your dishonor and shame.[1]
[1] “But the hands of one of the partners were already at K.’s throat, while the other thrust the knife deep into his heart and turned it there twice. With failing eyes K. could still see the two of them immediately before him, cheek leaning against cheek, watching the final act. “Like a dog!” he said; it was as if the shame of it must outlive him.” Kafka, The Trial, p. 229.
