Are We There Yet? | Teen Ink

Are We There Yet?

February 8, 2022
By danielmin SILVER, Beaconsfield, Other
danielmin SILVER, Beaconsfield, Other
9 articles 10 photos 0 comments

“Are we there yet?”

You’ve no childhood if you have not asked this question as a child. 

Tick-tock, tick-tock. There is nothing more plausible than a second hand. Yet, as noted in The Sense of an Ending, “it takes only the smallest pleasure or pain to teach us time’s malleability.” For Generation Z, the outside world seems to cause that pain. Centuries ago, the natural landscape was something to enjoy. Now, the very nature of Earth–namely its stillness–triggers drowsiness, and somnambulant strolls in the open-air sound hollow.

Rewind to 1908. Indeed–the invention of the Model T by Henry Ford in 1908 was no insignificant event. Since then, automobiles have bettered the lives of any American who could afford a wheel and gas at the pump. And, of course, automobiles changed the American economy, politics, and society. With better engines and more interstate highways, which boomed after the Highway Act of 1956 during Ike’s presidency, even the all-American suburbs experienced explosive growth. More and more Americans moved farther away from their cities and, ironically, farther away from nature.

Fast forward. It is the end of the century. And finally, the headrest DVD is born, condensing the entire cinematic experience in the rear seat, emancipating parents from the conundrum of the century: “Are we there yet?” Auto manufacturers could not move quickly enough to incorporate electric screens in their back seats in lieu of dull and worthless views visible through the rear seat window. At first, the addition of the screens seemed like a small change, but this was perhaps the greatest Butterfly Effect that American history will ever witness at the turn of its century. No other invention will separate Americans so much away from nature. At least American children of the 20th century used to “look” outside their backseat windows, studying the passing landscape and nature closely and with deep interest so that they could figure out how close they were to their destination.

It is no coincidence that Shigeru Miyamoto was inspired by his childhood playtime in a cave when he designed his games. He exploited mankind’s avidity for exploration and the difficulties of undertaking one in the real world. A joystick enabled an apathetic juvenile to masquerade as an intrepid spelunker. Funnily enough, as a corollary, people stopped traversing the planet. Although Nintendo insists that it remains in the entertainment business, it cannot feign indifference to the active aspect of gaming—which adds a whole dimension to the experience. According to Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, whether the person devotes unusual investments of psychic energy determines the difference between frivolous pleasure and true enjoyment. By adding interactive elements, video games have virtually replaced the tactile experience of enjoyment.

The attitude of equating reality and virtuality intensified at the turn of the century with the World Wide Web and Artificial Intelligence. Humanity exposed itself to complacency and became too friendly with what was not natural. It’s disturbing that the majority of Americans are not disturbed by the fact that their children’s number of friends can be enumerated through Facebook. I find it symbolic and wry that pink plastic flamingos, the flamboyant artificial symbol of the ‘50s, were the cheapest accessories in the Sims, an artificial city. Homeowners of the last century simply could not tolerate the speck of green lawn in front of their suburban home to stay “natural,” so they decorated it with “plastic” to look forward-looking.

Perhaps those were the signs. The general negligence towards nature transformed into complete apathy with the invention of the headrest screen. It was the quietest and most devastating tsunami that hit American homes. I may have to prepare myself to accept the fact that my grandchildren may not believe me if I tell them that we used to look outside car windows. Even those who dream of flying cannot go through a London-Los Angeles trip without in-flight entertainment viewed from a headrest. On the other hand, there are fanatics of 8K Botswana Wildlife on YouTube, with its views outshining the nation’s population. And with Meta hinting at a completely artificial reality, the term “science-fiction” looks to become obsolete.

Whether this shift is desirable or not is too difficult to tell. Anyhow, what’s interesting is the recent move-back towards the primitive. From Dicaprio’s Academy speech to COP 26, people are naturally expressing their caring for their environment. It may be that humanity is not quite ready to be the Player Ones of the Metaverse and are searching for Shelter from the Storms of overwhelming technology. In any case, there appears to be a clash between two ideals–economic evolution and propensity towards our natural environment.

A few days ago, LG ran a promotion that demonstrated how veristic a Van Gogh’s masterpiece looked on their latest television model. The Starry Night, in its flamboyant frame, is a superstar at the MoMA. Will virtual screens replace the wooden, gilded frame? But, the mystery of the millennium is this. Would anyone remember my best-loved edition of a twinkling sky? It was framed in the rear seat window of my parent’s night-blue Subaru. Well, it is forgotten now. My children will see nothing but the back of my headrest. The invention of the small screen was a silent but metamorphosing milestone in American history.

And to think that people used to look at the stars to answer the age-old question:

“Are we there yet?”



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