Absence

 

“VIRTUAL (adjective)

almost or nearly as described, but not completely or according to strict definition.”

Words are my thing. This came about because of my need to describe things that defy description. Without a command of words, such a description is literally impossible. Once gained to some degree, mastery of words allows my task to be only ‘virtually’ impossible.

I am flummoxed (there’s a word!) these days, by the continued attempt to do the literally impossible, as I watch people attempt to substitute virtual reality in cases where no substitutes exist.

It’s as delusional as substituting photographs of food for actual food, and placing them in front of hungry people with the statement, “Well, it’s better than no food at all.”

Sorry, but it’s not!

Some things can be substituted for others of like kind, but unliving, electronic images cannot even come close to substituting for living human beings. They are dead effigies, and they stink of warm plastic, dust, and ozone. They have no weight, they do not breathe, they do not permeate the space around them.

It terrifies me that people seem unaware that they are conning themselves in their willingness to “make do” with such false and sterile substitutes. They are doing nothing more than distracting themselves from their true bereavement.

I’m not talking about the necessary substitution of electronic communication in the workplace. That substitution is a functional one, and much of its information exchange is as effective as it is in-person; sometimes even more efficient.

No, I’m talking about the attempt to substitute virtual versions of mutual interactive gatherings, as in a dance class; or playing music; or singing together.

Such events are those whose meaning stems from the physical interplay of gravity, momentum,  and visual perspective. They are pursuits that depend on the movement of air and the angle of vision; partnerships which require the actual application of physical energy. 

No shared undertaking; one which demands mutual adaptation and adjustment; can be carried out “virtually.” It’s just not possible.

 

In a virtual world no sidelong glance of understanding between two people can be viable.

The blank button of the camera will not admit the quick glint of a shared and private smile.

All these bloodless images smell the same, from my side of the hissing screen.

No matter how I lean, I can’t see around a single corner in this inert world.

No matter what image I see, or who it resembles, no-one is truly here with me.

Trust is required, to believe that an actual person lives behind this sterile doppelgänger,

but the bleak truth is — their absence is the greater certainty.