Thursday, June 6, 2013

“Privacy” and “Verizon” seem to be the buzzwords of the day, along with “Facebook,” “Gmail,” and Lord knows what else. Ironically enough, my new phone arrived on my doorstep today, sleek and shiny, Verizon logo prominently stamped on its cover, a branding play now turned scarlet letter. I know how I should feel–shock and indignation at my eroding liberties–but instead I am seized by a dull indifference.

Part of the reason for my lack of surprise is because Gene Hackman and Will Smith already warned me about this in Enemy of the State, a cautionary tale on how overreaching the NSA can be. Hell, I had firsthand experience when, fresh out of college, I resubmitted my resume to the NSA with a slightly altered filename, only to have the site immediately tell me it knew I had applied already. It knew! Obviously. My sole source of comfort? The knowledge that I don’t text, Facebook, or really even call all that often.

But having less of a footprint to infringe upon is a poor excuse for complacency and an awfully low standard for a republic. It’s a relief, I suppose, that we live in a place where open dialogue can exist about a breach of trust like this. Even as I say this, though, I’m wrapping myself in just a little bit more cynicism, the sardonic blanket that never disappoints. And now, I must return to moving my contacts to my new phone, which happens to be another flip phone. Normally this process would be seamless, but my old unit was so outdated that it renderered the transfer software inoperable. So I’ll have to re-enter every contact manually, with each letter tapped out carefully. It’s like a telegraph, in a way. I am a modern-day Marconi whose messages are comprehensively recorded to guard against the jihadi menace.