John Butleron the Next Big Thing. And the next . . .
By the time you read this, Blackberry will have launched their new mobile hand-held device, the "Curve", Apple will have unleashed the "iPhone" (both events occurring first in the United States), and I am confident that despite the seismic impact of each occasion, neither will have prevented the world from continuing to spin upon its axis. There - I've gone and stuck my neck out.
We've certainly reached a high-water mark of expectation for the release of consumer electronics goods. It reminds me of nothing so much as the euphoria which surrounded the launch of Windows '95. I was in San Francisco at that time, and you could have been forgiven for thinking that Windows '95 was the name of visiting rock band, a group who wrote a song called Start Me Up. Thinking back to those days, who would have bet against The Rolling Stones outlasting not just this, but the next operating system?
Hordes of IT professionals queued patiently outside computer stores overnight, wearing multicoloured rain macs and sharing pre-packed sandwiches (I don't believe that anything generates more pathos than the sight of a pre-packed sandwich, whatever the occasion. Except an extremely tall person being bullied.) On the night before the event, news reporters interviewed ordinary Joes and Janes too, sitting on deckchairs and huddled under blankets for warmth. They too had been counting down the days. One could sense electricity in the air, as if the operating system might play an exclusive in-store performance or boot itself up on the roof, in the manner of U2.
The reason I remember this period so well is that the San Francisco 49ers had recently won the Superbowl and had paraded through the city in January, yet it was hard to distinguish fans of the football team from fans of the operating system, judging by their relative ardour. The advent of Windows '95 was a moment of massive cultural significance, and the economic boom it heralded changed the world even more than the 1849 gold rush which lent the football team their name. The '95ers beat the '49ers hands down that year.
I suppose the reason for all the excitement about the iPhone (or the new Blackberry, if you are so inclined) is that it represents another leap forward in the quest for convergence, a step closer to the day when we carry one single, tiny thing with us, something which looks beautiful, runs forever, is indestructible and contains everything we could ever require. Already, no one can argue with the extent of brain-melting intelligence expended in the creation of a phone, a personal computer, a music player and a usable camera, all in one package for under $400 (with a two-year contract).
Normally, it's fun to play the contrarian, but in this instance I'll be as keen as the next fan to get my hands on the product, to caress in my own Neanderthal paws the ergonomic contours of each device, and to cradle my own one lovingly - as I did my first iPod. Having said that, human nature demands some kind of a conclusion to every story, and I sometimes wonder where this all ends, our pursuit of the newest, latest, greatest thing. Am I missing the point here? Can Buddhist serenity be found in savouring the journey, rather than wanting to find the ultimate product to stick in our pockets?
You see, from the instant I slap down the cash and take that virginal white box home with me, a sense of disappointment will be gnawing away at my excitement; the inescapable realisation that some day this shiny new product will too be as obsolete and quaint as the teasmaid, that soon enough it will represent nothing more than another worn road sign on our infinite trek into the future.
When I recently asked someone - a friend whose interest in these matters and knowledge of them is markedly greater than mine - whether a naturally occurring full stop could be seen at any point in the future, he looked at me as if I had asked him to drop a boulder onto my skull.
"It never stops. And if it stops, it means you've died," he replied, averting his eyes and absently scrolling through the inbox on his Blackberry with a thumb. I could tell by this nervous reflex of his that he was embarrassed at me, embarrassed that I was dragging my knuckles through daily life looking for a conclusion to the story, without realising the nature of the ending I had requested.
Fair enough. If that's what it takes, I'll press on, lusting after newer and newer phones, dimly remembering how badly I used to want a pager, and before that a cassette Walkman, and before that again a digital watch, but never noticing that each of those things I craved in the past was a leisure item, and how each of the things I buy in the future I seem to be buying because I need them more and more.
Each new mobile device sent into the world is a money-shot of buttock-shuddering proportions in a movie that I desperately hope is not the story of my life. Deep down I know I'm fighting a losing battle, so I'm going to shut my eyes and ignore the whole thing. Right now, my current phone has a torch on it, and I can also use it to open a bottle of beer. That to me is enough convergence for now; something that helps at a party, and can also light my way to bed after an evening opening people's drinks and listening to only constant we really have - The Rolling Stones.
John Butler blogs at http://lozenge.wordpress.com