Lurkers
Lurkers
Lurkers
They live in shadows. Children of
cyberspace; without a face, they can be
anyone. Rebels of an unknown cause,
they fight for the ultimate freedom:
freedom from names, from expectations,
and from themselves. Heroes or losers,
they are manifestations of our lost
dreams. Funny how in this age of
information superhighways, when we can
connect to peoples of every race and
creed at the tips of our fingers, it seems so
easy to lose touch of our souls. Why is
there a price for everything? Every step
forward is a step away from our origins.
And if we travel far enough and lose sight
of where we came from, we forget and
become adrift. Then let us play a game
like children. One will stay at home with
arms outstretch, then another will clasp
the others hand and in turn extend an arm
to the next person. And so on it will be, a
living interlinked chain stretching from the
hearth to the farthest reaches of space.
Let us promise never to let go of each
other, to never envy another’s reach, and
in turn to never look down on another’s
position. So goes my dream, but what am
I? I am a lurker, just another lurker. And
my dream is lost in cyberspace.
They thrive in shadows. Spun from the
World Wide Web, they are faceless
nomads of this techno dream. Soldiers of
fortune; they fight for freedom from being
known, from being recognized, and from
simply being. Idealists or pessimists, they
embody our plundered souls. Ironic that
in an era of social networking that allows
us to project our every thought and fancy
to the furthest reaches of the globe, it
seems inevitable that we should lose our
moorings. Why is there a downside to
every progress? Every leap for technology
is a leap away from nature. And if we
continue on in our journey, we destroy our
home and we turn into vagabonds drifting
from place to place without finding rest.
Then let us pretend we can be innocent
again as children. Let us hold hands and
form a line extending from the earth to
space, as far as our imagination can roam.
Then we never lose touch of the green
grass even as we wonder at the myriads of
galaxies in front of us. Let us vow to
always hold on, to always support each
other without rancor, and to be happy for
each other’s perspective. That is my vision
but who am I? Am I not a lurker with a
plundered soul?
They are born in shadows. A product of
the internet era; they wear masks of many
faces surfing from site to site.
Mercenaries, they fight for a cause not
their own because they own nothing, not
even themselves. They are our
indifference, our alienation, our selves
bereft of hope. Reality or fantasy, they
are the misbegotten children of our rape.
Strange that in this day and age where
every aspect of our lives is connected and
online, we are still without a clue. Why
are there no happy endings? Every
progress comes with a cost. And if we
ignore this cost, we lost our purpose and
we simply drift without direction. Then let
us make believe we are children once
again. Let us recapture our ideals and
make it tangible, let one child hold on to it
with one hand while the other hand
extends to another child who is also
holding on to another child. Let this
continue to the final child reaching the
threshold of the future bearing all that we
envision because the first child and all the
rest did not let go. Let us make a pact to
stay true and never let discord, greed or
ambition sway our course. Thus is my
hope but I am just a lurker, nothing more.