Friday, November 09, 2007

Silicon Valley

Created from a prompt for a writing exercise.

In the fog of anthropology, that misty ocean between observer and “going native,” you find yourself seeking a port.

It was not your aim to study and explore, but laziness has few career directions, and chronicling the once familiar lands is one that sounded easy enough.

People lived here before, in the sand and the dust. They grew crops and sowed lives, but all of that was generations ago.

You often wonder over a cup of tea—hot because you need the heat to ward off the ever-present whir outside your window, how can you be an anthropologist when there are no people to study? Doesn’t culture need humans to create it?

A jungle of cables and tangled power lines is only inhabited by data. Ones, zeros, and electricity make up the cities, where families once celebrated holidays, weddings, and funerals. If servers and ISP addresses get married, you have yet to be invited to a ceremony.

This used to be a salad bowl—a place to provide most of America’s food. Now it seems an organic CPU. Only the processors remain, all coated in a smog-pate that may have once been lettuce.

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