...Just Fade Away...

Like all the best revelations, it came to me in the lingerie section of New Look. In that period of time where your girlfriend has deserted you to try something on and you are left in a sea of leopardskin wellington boots and whiny teenage girls. That period where there's nothing better to do than stare aimlessly at the decor (which is, incidentally, as skimpy as New Look's underwear). I stared up and saw a black dome on the ceiling above me and suddenly realised that I was in a camera blind spot, and couldn't be seen. Flashback to the morning. I woke up and was phoned by my work to ask if I'd like to go in today. The phone call was logged by my service provider, who also sent me a nice letter offering me something which I don't need. Their databases tell them everything about me - what I like, what I wear, how old I am - everything except the fact that selling stuff through the post never, ever works on me. I left the house fairly early and met up with my girlfriend, after texting her (again logged by Orange) and telling her to meet me at the bus stop. The CCTV of the Tesco Express convenience store caught me on the way up the road, and various other cameras picked me up. I got on the bus and bought a ticket which was discounted because I gave in all of my current details to the local library to get a leisure card. I was then filmed on the bus as I travelled to the town centre, for security purposes. I left the bus, and went to draw out some money. The bank has noted down how much money I have spent in the last month and also know how much money will be coming in next month. I then went to McDonalds where I bought a meal with a voucher. The number of vouchers I use tells them how much I like to eat and how often, which was taken into the till as well as my signature on the slip noting that I'd paid by card. My journey had been recorded, for posterity or otherwise, by so many different companies, institutions and organisations. Immortalised forever, like the words here that sit on a server in America somewhere. So there I stood, underneath this security camera. The New Look computers would be completely unaware of my presence. People filtered past me, the men sharing a knowing smile and the girls ignoring the presence of a heathen in their midst. I was seen, acknowledged and then forgotten. It suddenly dawned on me that, for the first time that day, I was temporary. The pause button had been pushed on the recording machines that whirred around me, and my actions were temporal - finite. I shook my head happily, and watched the expressions drift off of me, fading into a dust of memory before my eyes. I poked my tongue out, and no-one saw. I laughed, and no-one heard. I like to think in the future that I might have a certain degree of fame. Nothing over-the-top, but the thought that someone knows my name and I do not know theirs appeals in some strange, power-hungry way. But standing there, surrounded by bikini pants of every lurid colour under the sun, the thought of being recorded, my actions being set in stone, the permanence of daily life - it all seemed a little scary. I am hesitant even to write this, as if I am making too much of a leap, too much of an impression on the fabric of the universe. In a world of mass-paranoia and people screaming at the top of their lungs blasphemies against Big Brother, it's just as easy to get stuck in a rut of cynicism as it is to join in with the screaming. I used to scorn at anyone who thought that the government (or anyone else for that matter) is out to get us, and in a sense I still do. My day was recorded (apart from the stint with the thongs) but I don't feel it will be used against me. But the mere fact made me feel uneasy. Gone, for the moment at least, is the concept of how temporary our human world is. Our lives are very permanent, and every life makes and impression on the world. We are not in a forgive-and-forget world. If I delete my emails, I do not know where they go. If I delete this post, it may remain in cyberspace somewhere. Be careful of the choices you make and the actions you take, and savour those moments where you are not remembered. When you are not being watched, you will have risen far above the kinds of freedom most of us have.