In the old days, you could hear a car coming. These days, what you mostly hear is cars locking themselves again. My day typically starts with a beep, continues with a ping and ends with a voice telling me something I already know. I suspect I’ve done some work somewhere in between, but I could not say for certain. Meanwhile, everything around me seems busier making noise than doing its job.
My car goes toot when I lock it, and toot again when I am not quite sure I have. Then, if I’m really unlucky, I get a spoken summary too, as if it thinks: ‘This man doesn’t just need confirmation; he needs guidance.’
Indoors, the noise continues: the fridge beeps if left open for too long, the washing machine sings as though it had signed a record deal with Spotify, and the door no longer simply makes noises: it sends notifications. Everything wants to be heard.
