rlbourges

A Message Smuggled Out of the Land of Glitch

In Drafts, Hautvoir, humeurs, Local projects on April 12, 2014 at 5:40 am

In the Land of Glitch, computer settings obey different rules or march to the sound of a different leader or conform to the dictates of The Rule of Bots and Aps. Email messages don’t reach their destinations; attachments disappear. Phone messages? Some here, some there,  here today, gone tomorrow. In the Land of Glitch, comments posted on someone else’s blog take a day or two before appearing as posted (no, the person doesn’t have a screening device, at least, if she screens my comments, things are even more fraught than I thought they were.)

In the Land of Glitch, so-called service providers battle one another for customers. If this entails disrupting said customers’ lives, so be it. The customers need service, they will pay for it, one way or another. I live in the Land of Glitch – the Empire of Glitch, in fact. This area being the zone under French Administration. In this zone, transfer of a phone number from a departed party to the person paying the bills requires: a signed document in triplicate; the paying customer’s valid passport; the paying customer’s valid residency permit; payment of a forty-nine euro transfer fee; and a trust unbounded that the end result won’t be a brutal interruption of everything because the Glitch Master cancelled the automatic payment as part of the transfer package.

etc, etc, etc. Hours spent putting together a first run at a trial photo layout for a book due at the printer’s at the end of the month. The person I worked with sends the layout by email. The email shows there’s an attachment included. I open the email: no attachment. etc etc etc.

I transfer back writing material on this computer. Transfer = Transfer, right? Wrong. I must retrieve material from the unconnected computer, bit by bit. The unconnected computer decides this is no longer the year 2014 of the Common Era and cycles back to 1971. and so on, and so on, et ainsi de suite.

And still I label this post under Drafts? The plural applies more than ever, dear reader, since the current draft now consists of bits here and bits there, plus written notes scribbled out during the  night.

We Shall Overcome? No, we shall not. But we sure as hell won’t give up until the old ticker does (unless the brain goes first).

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