The killer app is always the same: self love. We drink from the selves of others with our eyes or minds but the person we make love to most, and the person who makes the most love to us, is our self. Google Glass will make every schoolboy’s dream come true: its first apps will intrude into the imagined privacy of others, beyond the teasing layers of their garments, through their curtains and walls, so we can take from their bodies without becoming stained by the mess of their soul or self, so we can reunite with the one we really are, calling the disparate fragments of ourselves to one place and moment briefly, so they can unite in the unthinking harmony of ecstasy before fleeing like a family from dinner back to the many separate corners and crevices of their existence.
Oh, Santiago. You are my everything. Promise you’ll never leave us. The thought of you vanishing fills me with trepidation.