"I'm standing in front of a building where earlier today a man appears to have thrown himself from the 20th story of a city apartment building.
"As there were no witnesses we don't have a lot of information however, I can confirm that the man was in his mid forties, was wearing hi-visibility fluorescent ski gear and was a resident of the exclusive city apartment building.
"The first person on the scene was a skateboarder who called emergency services reporting that a skydiver had plummeted to their death in the middle of the central business district.
"Emergency personnel were quick to confirm that this was not the case due to the no-fly status above the city this long weekend whilst the UN security council meets in the city's exhibition centre.
"Roads in this part of the city have been blocked off since early this week, so it is not yet known how long the man was lying on the pavement before his body was discovered.
"Believed to be a prominent blogger, neighbours say the man is reported not to have left his apartment or received visitors in some months.
"The man's only known relative, a sister, is currently on a hiking honeymoon in Peru and can't be reached. The media has been asked to withhold the man's identity until his family can be informed and he can be formally identified.
"Whilst details are sketchy, this appears to have been lonely end to a lonely life.
"Janine Finkelstein, Ten news. Back to you in the studio Michael."
- 6 -
Dressed from head to toe in fluorescent ski gear, complete with all sales tags, I looked completely ridiculous, but I was especially warm. Thinking of the dirt and dust that engulfed me as I opened the outside door the evening before, I completed the ensemble by donning some almost matching yellow tinged goggles.
It's funny how you can feel embarrassed about how you look when there is nobody there to see.
The doors opened more easily this time, but the outer door still required a firm shoulder because of the stiff wind and the resettled filth on the other side. Squeezing through, I lodged a large dead potted cumquat in the doorway. I had keys, but being outside was still overwhelming. If I became trapped, I'd definitely lose the plot.
The garden was in ruins. What hadn't died had gone to seed and strangled everything around it. The little path was covered in leaves dirt and weeds. The water tank had overflowed many times leaving permanent puddles and rivulets carved into the dirt and debris.
Standing by the water tank, out of the wind, the absolute silence startled me. What day was it? Probably midweek sometime. At 9am on any weekday I should have heard horns, the murmur of the city, trains, trams and just general living sounds. It was like the city had held its breath.
There was no delaying it any longer. I edged towards the chest high wall. The wall was as sturdy as the building itself, but at that moment it looked flimsy and inadequate. There was no way I could trip and fall over the edge, but the thought of the twenty story drop made me creep towards the edge as though the ground were about to give way.
Summoning every last dribble of strength and will in my body and mind I craned my neck and peered over the edge.
At first everything looked normal. It had been such a long time since I'd bothered to observe the world I'd forgotten what it was supposed to look like.
The streets were there. There were even cars, trams and buses, but it was like a picture, not a first hand view of the world. Forgetting my fear I ran to each corner of the garden.
There was nothing moving in any direction. The feeling that descended, smothering me like too many clothes on a hot day, was isolation. After years of shunning the world, discovering that it wasnt there when i was ready for it was too much to bear.
No wonder my sister didn't answer her phone. The catastrophe unfolded in my mind. It was quick and devastating. So quick the electricity and water were still running. Probably an airborn plague.
There was a strange relief hidden within my panic. It wasn't that nobody wanted to speak to me. Nobody was there.
The wall was low, but the ski gear made it a clumsy climb. This was the only way. I'd seen the zombie movies. There was no point holding out. As I stepped off the edge, I thought about how ridiculous I must have looked. Luckily nobody would see.
It's funny how you can feel embarrassed about how you look when there is nobody there to see.
The doors opened more easily this time, but the outer door still required a firm shoulder because of the stiff wind and the resettled filth on the other side. Squeezing through, I lodged a large dead potted cumquat in the doorway. I had keys, but being outside was still overwhelming. If I became trapped, I'd definitely lose the plot.
The garden was in ruins. What hadn't died had gone to seed and strangled everything around it. The little path was covered in leaves dirt and weeds. The water tank had overflowed many times leaving permanent puddles and rivulets carved into the dirt and debris.
Standing by the water tank, out of the wind, the absolute silence startled me. What day was it? Probably midweek sometime. At 9am on any weekday I should have heard horns, the murmur of the city, trains, trams and just general living sounds. It was like the city had held its breath.
There was no delaying it any longer. I edged towards the chest high wall. The wall was as sturdy as the building itself, but at that moment it looked flimsy and inadequate. There was no way I could trip and fall over the edge, but the thought of the twenty story drop made me creep towards the edge as though the ground were about to give way.
Summoning every last dribble of strength and will in my body and mind I craned my neck and peered over the edge.
At first everything looked normal. It had been such a long time since I'd bothered to observe the world I'd forgotten what it was supposed to look like.
The streets were there. There were even cars, trams and buses, but it was like a picture, not a first hand view of the world. Forgetting my fear I ran to each corner of the garden.
There was nothing moving in any direction. The feeling that descended, smothering me like too many clothes on a hot day, was isolation. After years of shunning the world, discovering that it wasnt there when i was ready for it was too much to bear.
No wonder my sister didn't answer her phone. The catastrophe unfolded in my mind. It was quick and devastating. So quick the electricity and water were still running. Probably an airborn plague.
There was a strange relief hidden within my panic. It wasn't that nobody wanted to speak to me. Nobody was there.
The wall was low, but the ski gear made it a clumsy climb. This was the only way. I'd seen the zombie movies. There was no point holding out. As I stepped off the edge, I thought about how ridiculous I must have looked. Luckily nobody would see.
- 5 -
Today I decided to go up to the garden. I thought that some fresh air and a view of the horizon would clear my head. The strong winds at this height would almost literally blow my paranoid stresses away. The stairs in the narrow staircase were covered in dust.
Following my own logic of only vacuuming the parts of the apartment I use, it looked like I hadn't been up to the roof in months. Funny, because I specifically bought this place for the unique mix of outdoor living and its elevation above street level.
It took me a few minutes to work the lock. There was a slight knack to sliding the deadbolt on the solid inner door. Pausing I distracted myself wondering why such a heavily secured door was required this far above street level.
The bolt gave and the door swung out into the dusty airlock. Without this little walled in recess and extra door just opening the door could blow a person off their feet and the apartment would lose all warmth with a single gust of wind.
The first door swung closed as I unbolted the door that led out into the elements. As the bolt gave and I turned the handle, I thought that I must have locked it again by accident. Confirming to myself that the door was indeed unlocked, I threw my shoulder into it.
The door only budged, and I imagined a dead or unconscious body lying against the other side. Impossible of course, unless a stray skydiver had been thrown off course and landed badly. Two more shoves, each throwing up handfuls of dust that were whipped straight into my eyes by the fierce twentieth story winds. I squeezed through the doorway into the freezing dim evening above the city.
Of course there was no body, just dirt, leaves, plastic bags, a KFC family bucket, a flattened fedora and various pieces of organic and manmade debris. It looked like a neglected street drain days after a downpour.
It was at this point that I panicked. A combination of the air, the open sky, the distance to the horizon and no walls was all too much for me. I didn’t even take my hand off the door handle before I squeezed back through the doorway, convincing myself that I needed to dress more appropriately and come up in the full light of day.
Sitting in silence in my room, waiting for my heart rate to normalise, I went over the previous ten minutes in my mind. The dust on the stairs and the detritus against the door were more than a just few months worth. It must have been years.
The only enticing part of the whole ordeal was the taste of the air. It was fresher than I remembered. It reminded me of drinking from a mountain stream after hiking with a warm stale canteen of water for days. If nothing else I will make myself go back up for some of that air.
It was a lot quieter than I remember too.
Following my own logic of only vacuuming the parts of the apartment I use, it looked like I hadn't been up to the roof in months. Funny, because I specifically bought this place for the unique mix of outdoor living and its elevation above street level.
It took me a few minutes to work the lock. There was a slight knack to sliding the deadbolt on the solid inner door. Pausing I distracted myself wondering why such a heavily secured door was required this far above street level.
The bolt gave and the door swung out into the dusty airlock. Without this little walled in recess and extra door just opening the door could blow a person off their feet and the apartment would lose all warmth with a single gust of wind.
The first door swung closed as I unbolted the door that led out into the elements. As the bolt gave and I turned the handle, I thought that I must have locked it again by accident. Confirming to myself that the door was indeed unlocked, I threw my shoulder into it.
The door only budged, and I imagined a dead or unconscious body lying against the other side. Impossible of course, unless a stray skydiver had been thrown off course and landed badly. Two more shoves, each throwing up handfuls of dust that were whipped straight into my eyes by the fierce twentieth story winds. I squeezed through the doorway into the freezing dim evening above the city.
Of course there was no body, just dirt, leaves, plastic bags, a KFC family bucket, a flattened fedora and various pieces of organic and manmade debris. It looked like a neglected street drain days after a downpour.
It was at this point that I panicked. A combination of the air, the open sky, the distance to the horizon and no walls was all too much for me. I didn’t even take my hand off the door handle before I squeezed back through the doorway, convincing myself that I needed to dress more appropriately and come up in the full light of day.
Sitting in silence in my room, waiting for my heart rate to normalise, I went over the previous ten minutes in my mind. The dust on the stairs and the detritus against the door were more than a just few months worth. It must have been years.
The only enticing part of the whole ordeal was the taste of the air. It was fresher than I remembered. It reminded me of drinking from a mountain stream after hiking with a warm stale canteen of water for days. If nothing else I will make myself go back up for some of that air.
It was a lot quieter than I remember too.
- 4 -
I started up Skype last night. It was a simple enough gesture mechanically speaking, but I spent an hour picking clothes, having a shower, shaving and doing my hair before I finally brought myself to sit down and get to dialing.
When i finally sat down, for the first time since I could remember, there wasn't a single person in my address book available to talk.
My first thought was that the network was down, so I called the test number and was rewarded with the cheery confirmation that nobody i know wanted to talk. This in itself is pretty odd, as I've reviewed a pile of best-selling phones both mobile and fixed line that have an "always on" feature fully integrated with Skype.
I clicked on a few offline avatars, including my sister's, to see if people were just hiding their status, but they really were offline.
I decided to go for the next best and recorded a quick video message to my sister then to a couple of random friends. It was only moments after clicking "send" that I started checking for replies. Each moment that went by I felt my heart quicken.
How long has it actually been since I spoke with someone. Easily a few months. But how long has it been since I received an email from an actual person, not a mailing list, rss feed, out of office etc.
A long time. A quick check through my inbox gave me a date over four weeks ago. I must be pretty detached from my fellow humans to have let that much time slip by. Now that I'm desperate I can't raise a family member, let alone a (long ignored) friend. I'll have some making up to do once people are talking to me.
When i finally sat down, for the first time since I could remember, there wasn't a single person in my address book available to talk.
My first thought was that the network was down, so I called the test number and was rewarded with the cheery confirmation that nobody i know wanted to talk. This in itself is pretty odd, as I've reviewed a pile of best-selling phones both mobile and fixed line that have an "always on" feature fully integrated with Skype.
I clicked on a few offline avatars, including my sister's, to see if people were just hiding their status, but they really were offline.
I decided to go for the next best and recorded a quick video message to my sister then to a couple of random friends. It was only moments after clicking "send" that I started checking for replies. Each moment that went by I felt my heart quicken.
How long has it actually been since I spoke with someone. Easily a few months. But how long has it been since I received an email from an actual person, not a mailing list, rss feed, out of office etc.
A long time. A quick check through my inbox gave me a date over four weeks ago. I must be pretty detached from my fellow humans to have let that much time slip by. Now that I'm desperate I can't raise a family member, let alone a (long ignored) friend. I'll have some making up to do once people are talking to me.
- 3 -
My awareness of the outside world continues to diminish, but I only notice when I think about it. Lately I could swear that traffic noise has all but disappeared. Sure the city is twenty floors below, but this building is right in the heart.
It's probably just a slow time of year, as I've also only had a couple of deliveries this month and both left at the front door.
One of the latest deliveries is yet another dodgy Chinese made mp3 player. It's a nice looking unit, solidly constructed, it plays FLAC and other lossless formats and most other decent codecs. The "but" is that, as usual it comes with the cheapest quality headphones and only sounds good through an amp with a pair of headphones that cost twice as much as the player. To top it off, the battery looks like it lasts under a day at optimum settings.
If I kept every mp3 player, or "PMP" (personal media player) I was sent to review, I would need another room in my apartment. These things have been the staple item in the gadget wars for years and years, followed closely by gaming devices. eBay has been the real winner.
My personal interest in these things waned a long time ago.
Besides, who needs a personal music device when you live alone and have custom built stereo equipment with a room build to optimize acoustics?
In the old days, I think it may have been my love of personal media players, or rather the cocoon they create around you, that started me on my journey to hermit-hood. I could go for days without speaking to anyone going to and from work in a city of millions.
I couldn't have been the only one. Immersive technologies are aimed at providing the illusion of interaction whilst never leaving the comfort of your own bedroom. Before long, dealing with real people becomes stressful, even traumatic.
The only people I deal with are delivery people, and the ones who know my address from hundreds of deliveries just leave things in my secure box by the door. When I'm busy I tend not to hear the door, so rather than waste their time, we have an unspoken agreement. Everyone knows the hermit in the penthouse is always home.
Next time there is a knock at the door though, I might answer it. It must have been a month since I saw an actual face. Maybe I'm not as much of a loner as I thought, because I can't think of anything nicer right now than swapping pleasantries with a real human being in person.
It's probably just a slow time of year, as I've also only had a couple of deliveries this month and both left at the front door.
One of the latest deliveries is yet another dodgy Chinese made mp3 player. It's a nice looking unit, solidly constructed, it plays FLAC and other lossless formats and most other decent codecs. The "but" is that, as usual it comes with the cheapest quality headphones and only sounds good through an amp with a pair of headphones that cost twice as much as the player. To top it off, the battery looks like it lasts under a day at optimum settings.
If I kept every mp3 player, or "PMP" (personal media player) I was sent to review, I would need another room in my apartment. These things have been the staple item in the gadget wars for years and years, followed closely by gaming devices. eBay has been the real winner.
My personal interest in these things waned a long time ago.
Besides, who needs a personal music device when you live alone and have custom built stereo equipment with a room build to optimize acoustics?
In the old days, I think it may have been my love of personal media players, or rather the cocoon they create around you, that started me on my journey to hermit-hood. I could go for days without speaking to anyone going to and from work in a city of millions.
I couldn't have been the only one. Immersive technologies are aimed at providing the illusion of interaction whilst never leaving the comfort of your own bedroom. Before long, dealing with real people becomes stressful, even traumatic.
The only people I deal with are delivery people, and the ones who know my address from hundreds of deliveries just leave things in my secure box by the door. When I'm busy I tend not to hear the door, so rather than waste their time, we have an unspoken agreement. Everyone knows the hermit in the penthouse is always home.
Next time there is a knock at the door though, I might answer it. It must have been a month since I saw an actual face. Maybe I'm not as much of a loner as I thought, because I can't think of anything nicer right now than swapping pleasantries with a real human being in person.
- 2 -
I'm pretty sure it has been nearly three thousand days since I stepped foot out of this building. In all that time, for only ten of those days I was without electricity, with a maximum of only two days in a row. Its amazing how efficient even the utility companies can be in the face of competition.
There were also six days, three each time, when I had no water, in fact no plumbing of any kind.
Whilst electricity provides my real lifeline to the world - communication - it was the plumbing that nearly, but not quite, led me to emerge into the world. A toilet that doesn't flush and no shower nearly shattered the shell around my little world. After the second crisis I had a tank installed on my balcony and another in the rooftop garden.
The numbers mean something, because I am coming up to three thousand reviews too, all written and paid for. There's a chance I can write my three thousandth review on my three thousandth day. It won't have meaning for anyone else, but maybe I should treat it with some kind of reverence. It's not like I do birthdays anymore, and if I did, who could I invite? I wore out people's patience years ago, making excuses for every invite. Eventually invites stopped arriving.
There were also six days, three each time, when I had no water, in fact no plumbing of any kind.
Whilst electricity provides my real lifeline to the world - communication - it was the plumbing that nearly, but not quite, led me to emerge into the world. A toilet that doesn't flush and no shower nearly shattered the shell around my little world. After the second crisis I had a tank installed on my balcony and another in the rooftop garden.
The numbers mean something, because I am coming up to three thousand reviews too, all written and paid for. There's a chance I can write my three thousandth review on my three thousandth day. It won't have meaning for anyone else, but maybe I should treat it with some kind of reverence. It's not like I do birthdays anymore, and if I did, who could I invite? I wore out people's patience years ago, making excuses for every invite. Eventually invites stopped arriving.
- 1 -
Send. Another review submitted and another free piece of semi useful gadgetry bought and paid for with very positive, but not too sickly praise.
It used to feel like such a pleasantly banal way to make a few extra dollars. Making money from a hobby, or more accurately a fetish or obsession, is a dream that rarely comes true.
I wonder if everyone else who manages to make it a reality finds it as underwhelming after a while.
The reality hit after only a couple of years with the realisation that the reviews don't have to be believable, nor overly flattering. Each product has a positive characteristic, and the review should reflect that the reviewer was pleasantly surprised, or when appropriate, proven wrong, by this unique characteristic. Simplistic products possess "ease of use". Cheap or poor quality products are "affordable" or "aimed at the budget conscious", and so on.
Some products are genuinely brilliant, however the real problem with reviewing genuinely brilliant kit is overdoing it. If you bang on about a product too much, you're less likely to get a shot at a competitor's equivalent product for fear of unfavorable comparisons.
It used to feel like such a pleasantly banal way to make a few extra dollars. Making money from a hobby, or more accurately a fetish or obsession, is a dream that rarely comes true.
I wonder if everyone else who manages to make it a reality finds it as underwhelming after a while.
The reality hit after only a couple of years with the realisation that the reviews don't have to be believable, nor overly flattering. Each product has a positive characteristic, and the review should reflect that the reviewer was pleasantly surprised, or when appropriate, proven wrong, by this unique characteristic. Simplistic products possess "ease of use". Cheap or poor quality products are "affordable" or "aimed at the budget conscious", and so on.
Some products are genuinely brilliant, however the real problem with reviewing genuinely brilliant kit is overdoing it. If you bang on about a product too much, you're less likely to get a shot at a competitor's equivalent product for fear of unfavorable comparisons.
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