textinction

Not even a whimper. More a muted plastic click. Almost frictionless. And it was sent.

Gone.

Who would remember? (Even though there was an embarrassing glut of memory these days.) You could store the whole of your life in a quantum chip, but who would want a pica of those bygone analog days.

We owe it all to convenience. From fast food to fast talk — or no talk. For employees who couldn’t add or subtract to make change just build a cash register that could do it all. Construct the algorithm for retail transactions.

So, what was simpler than reinventing the oldest of interpersonal exchanges: conversation. And Picto was born. Not in a garage start up, but in an AI sandbox. all the user had to do to initiate and direct a conversation was choose a Picto emojicon that best matched the sentiment you wanted expressed. It was then transmitted via the chat-o-sphere to an implanted node behind a Picto subscriber’s ear.

Communication became winks, blinks, and nods. None of this thumbing or tapping on devices. Troy fell to an equine ruse, the dinosaurs to an asteroid, Twitter to X to Picto. It was the end of text. And good riddance. Ditch the purity of talk. Be in the moment and picture your feelings. Unrefined. Unedited.

With Picto it was completely canned for couch potato convenience. Queue up the conversation emojicon and have at it. Let the algorithms drive, just like the robomobiles. Don’t leave the dangerous business of thinking before speaking to a human. Let a machine do it. We learned that with ChatGPT.

It’s like having someone read your mind, and isn’t that what we really want? Not having to explain, express or struggle with meaning. Read my mind — please. It’s so obvious. Think how I think. Replay my selected images from here to eternity. I’ll roll in the surf while you do.

The Communication Age automated. Dit-Dot-Dash. Wink-Blink-Nod. For a more perfect union we freed ourselves from context and content. Let the communion of souls begin with the very end of text

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period