I have been travelling around the universe for far too long. As a result I feel compelled to reach out to you even if it is only to share some of the findings from my missions.
My last mission was to explore the city on Earth called “Toronto.” It was quite a voyage from the other side of the Milky Way, but it was certainly worth it to observe the forms of life that inhabit this city. The squirrels, coyotes and rabbits were all interesting, but the most interesting creatures that I witnessed were those who had built Toronto, and other cities on Earth, the humans.
Unlike other creatures their bodies were soft and fleshy, and did not seem to be suited to survival, but these creatures had clearly figured out a way to maintain their dominance over the seemingly more formidable forces of nature that inhabit the Earth. It is not of interest to me how they came to achieve their dominance, but one thing that does deeply interest me is the relationship humans have to machines.
Within Toronto many human beings packed themselves into capsules that transport them from one end of the city to the other, but generally the human does not see the presence of others within these capsules as an opportunity for interaction with those others. They merely pass each other in silence, avoid eye contact and seem to see the corporeal presence of other humans as a physical obstacle that they must get around. Once in a while one of them will move their flappy food holes and say something in the presence of others, but this is not the norm. It is hard to say whether they are at ease with the presence of others, or too afraid to interact with others when they are on these capsules.
However, one object that did solicit a vast amount of attention from humans when they gathered on these high-speed capsules were little rectangular boxes that humans carry presumably to contact one another, and access information. These boxes appear to be the center of each human’s world when they are in those high speed cramped capsules areas. At regular periodic intervals they will check the box like an attentive mother hen watching over her chicks. It is as if something disastrous will happen if they do not interact with their box. Also, their boxes seem to deeply impact the emotions that the human experiences. Their box will burble or make another odd sound, and they will peer at it, and giggle, smile, frown or cry. The only explanation I can see for the deep attachment that humans have to their boxes is that the box constitutes one of the most significant elements of their lives, as they seem to be far more affected by it, then by the presence of others right in front of them.
Perhaps humans have an internal adaptive function that allows them to be unaffected by the presence of other human beings in crowded spaces in order to better pursue their peculiar goals. But this is only conjecture, and I have no way to prove it, as we are banned by the bureaucrats on Lixillika from dissecting any creature on another planet, no matter how fascinating, and must make due with scanning through anal probing which only gives us modest information. Sometimes I wonder if these bureaucrats fail to understand what would be gained if researchers like us had greater authority. Surely, if we were able to dissect humans then we would uncover the secrets that lie behind the human’s relationship to the box.
But to return to the topic at hand, one other peculiar thing about these boxes that I just must share with you is that these boxes seem to be indispensable, and yet utterly replaceable. There are piles of them throughout cities, and if a human finds himself without one he does not grieve, as he would the loss of a child, but nonetheless he must necessarily get a new box as soon as possible. How can something be so fundamental to a life, but yet be so replaceable? I still feel like I am missing something in understanding the human’s relation to these boxes, but one thing I am certain of, Pisely, is that fully understanding these boxes is necessary to fully understanding these strange creatures.
I hope you are well, and the desk work you are engaged in is not too repetitive for a seasoned field researcher like you.
I hope to see you soon.