There was something not quite right. She stopped. In the middle of the street. Her wearable and hearable were still signalling. The pavement, walls and windows were still signalling, a wash of messages that semiotically vibrated in tune with her footsteps and social profile. But amid all the signals there was a noise. Something was wrong. She looked around. Unsettled. And then she saw it. It didn’t move. It didn’t vibrate or call. It didn’t demand participation or involvement. It stubbornly refused to ‘interact’. It was silent. Still. Power-full. Stuck on a wall. She stopped and read it… and smiled.
There was something wrong.
She stopped. In the middle of the street. Something was wrong.
Her wearable and hearable were still signalling she realised, she was so good at tuning them out that she had to take a moment to check. The pavement was still signalling, a wash of messages that semiotically vibrated in tune with her footsteps. The walls were still signalling, windows into message worlds tuned to her own profile. But amid all the signals there was a noise. Something was wrong.
She looked at the other pedestrians some more skilled than others at tuning out the signals and ignoring the cries of the interactive market traders vying for their attention. Promising. Dangling interactive moments in front of them. They passed by some with digital blockers, some with analog, some like her with highly developed personal psychological ones that software vendors couldn’t hack or bypass. They were all blocking or a(d)voiding but, still, there was something wrong.
She looked around. Disturbed. Unsettled. And then she saw it. It didn’t move. It didn’t vibrate or call. It didn’t call for participation or involvement. It stubbornly refused to ‘interact’. It was silent. Still. Power-full. Stuck on a wall.
She stopped and read it… and smiled.