Please form an orderly queue

 

Today I went into Uni to try and launch this site using my Macbook. Whilst seated comfortably, I searched for the wi-fi connection that we have access to. Having accessed this before whilst seated comfortably, I was confident that there would be no issues. However, I couldn’t connect. A tragedy in this day and age. It’s 2013, what do you mean I can’t connect? What does this error message imply when it says the licenses are full? I punched in IT’s number on my iPhone (which, by the way, was completely and utterly connected to the internet) and waited patiently for a call back. Then it came…

“Hi, I’m ringing about your IT issue. Yeah, erm. I’m really sorry but we’ve ran out of room for people on our network. There are too many devices connected at once, we expected a lot but not THIS many. Erm, keep trying and we are disconnecting people who are idle or who haven’t been on in a while”

“I fall into that category. I’ve already registered, I have my place already”

“Erm yeah if you haven’t connected for a fortnight we will disconnect your place for somebody else. Our internet is pretty full at the moment, but if you keep trying then you will eventually get a place.”

He spoke about the internet as a physical place. A place that could get full, contain too many people. I imagine it to be a smoky bar, with a bouncer and his little clicky people counting device letting one in and one out. A virtual cloud being weighed down with human data. It’s a strange thought, our invisible internet being ‘too full’. I started to think about Justin’s lecture last week and our presence on the internet. If we don’t make our social media into conversational media, then no one has to listen. The internet is full of nothing, and it is also full of everything. Making that mark is vital, especially if our endless space is filling up fast.

These thoughts brought me onto the idea of memory. Being fascinated with found imagery, and forgotten photographs means I often spend my time wondering about the people in the photographs. What happens to a memory once the person is disconnected with the object, or further still- what if they die? The same memory will never be replicated, yet the physical soulless photographs live on, with people like me inventing stories or making presumptions about the characters they contain. A memory is also a place full of endless data, and if it isn’t transitioned into conversations, no one has to listen to them either.  It is a strange thought, and one so weirdly connected to the idea of our invisible internet being full.

Your call is important to us, thank you for waiting. Your website can be viewed now… What does the future hold for memories destined to be forgotten?

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