Give away data to big bad companies... and be happy

As the iClouds batter my hidden shelter with synthesised acid rain, I keep my focus on the Sentinels hovering above the well in the distance. One or two don’t pose a problem. Normally. But if a third one sneaks up on you, Deletion is guaranteed.

One final glance, and I decide to chance it. Two days without water doesn’t exactly leave me with the luxury of choice. I quietly slide CtrlZ out of her makeshift holster. As always, I’m reassured by her hefty weight and the SmartBullets in her chamber.

Once I’ve downed the sentinels, I’ll be able to see how many calories the bullets burned on their trajectory, how well they slept the night before and what their gunpowder-glucose levels are.

All utterly useless information of course, but after the Tipping Point in 2017, everything from toothpicks to butter knives had Bluetooth LE, accelorometers and GPS modules packed inside them.

That’s when the alarm bells should have rung.

But when they finally did, it was too late. I squeeze the trigger twice. Two rounds slice through the air. The world is briefly showered in hot sparks. And yet, as I watch the Sentinels’ red lenses dull, sinking into blackness, my mind can’t help drifting off back to 2019.

When G gained sentience.

It punished us for scorning its +socialnetwork. It used its vast knowledge of our everyday habits to bring our swift demise.

Now there’s nothing left on this charred Earth apart from a few straggling survivors.

Survivors like m…

Right, enough of that
Tinfoil is great for packing sandwiches or freaking out cats but I can’t stand it when people wrap their heads in the stuff.

We’re on the cusp of living in a world where you can walk past a bus stop, glance at your watch and see how far away the next bus is.

When it arrives, you scan your watch using an Oyster app, grab a seat and look forward to a welcome hot coffee when you step through the front door. It’s brewed to perfection moments before you step into the kitchen because it tracked your location and predicted when you’d return. That’s some JARVIS-level stuff right there and it’s within our grasp.

Unless, of course, we get bogged down in fears of a dystopian world in which corporations control the masses with toasters and spectacles.

It’s OK to share.
I share all my data with Google. It knows how I get to work, what flights I’m taking and it wishes me a happy birthday each year. I can track my packages in seconds without having to copy and paste long codes into seperate websites. I can avoid certain roads if there’s an accident.

In essence, I can make my life a hell of a lot more convenient and at the expense of what? For sharing my location? For tracking my browsing?

Fine by me.

I’m not plotting any evil schemes. I’m a law-abiding citizen with nothing to hide. Granted, that’s exactly what a criminal mastermind would say but no one with a fear of spiders as potent as mine could ever reach the levels of evil genius.

I do of course understand people’s concerns. It can be a little creepy knowing that somewhere out there, in a room full of servers, coiled wires, flashing lights and the endless humming of industrial-strength air conditioners, lies a collection of 1s and 0s – a drop in an ocean of billions – which represent data that’s all about you.

But, (and please don’t take this personally), you’re not special. At all. Not one bit.

It’s OK. Neither am I. Most of us aren’t, in fact. The point is all this collected data makes our lives easier, paving the way forward for a fully automated future.

Yes relevant ads will target us. Great. We can’t escape adverts, so we might as well be bombarded with ones that we might actually find interesting or useful. And I’m not going to complain if I get sent vouchers for things that I regularly buy.

Security gone mad
But what about the [insert evil government/coorporation spies here], I hear you cry? You know, the mysterious entities that are waiting in the wings, trawling through your 3am Amazon spork purchases and Pure Garage album listening history?

About

Esat has been a gadget fan ever since his tiny four-year-old brain was captivated by a sound-activated dancing sunflower. From there it was a natural progression to a Sega Mega Drive, a brief obsession with hedgehogs, and a love for all things tech. After 7 years as a writer and deputy editor for Stuff, Esat ventured out into the corporate world, spending three years as Editor of Microsoft's European News Centre. Now a freelance writer, his appetite for shiny gadgets has no bounds. Oh, and like all good human beings, he's very fond of cats.

Give away data to big bad companies… and be happy

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