Mechanical Mind

Beep... beep... beep... beep... beep... beep...


He moans and murmurs, then fumbles around and taps me once, snoozing the alarm. Five minutes later, I repeat my droning call to wake him, he tries to swipe across but instead swipes up, my front camera now mimicking his 6:00am face staring back at him. There's a sight no one needed to see! He quickly exits and opens Facebook, then Instagram before replying to a message from his mum. He then takes a shower and gets dressed before finally pulling me out of the plug. I wonder where we will go today?


After a day of Geocaching with 3 out of the 256 contacts I have remembered, I am exhausted. The GPS really drains the energy out of you! I notice the owner, a curious fellow, staring out onto the busy streets of Athens. I realize that although today was fun, I my mechanical mind cannot possibly begin to imagine what the thoughts are that go through his head. I know so much about him, yet I really don't don't know him.


I know that when he opens the MapMyRun app he is exercising with Victor, confirmed later by a photo of a sunrise over a mountain.


I know what his friends and not-so-friends are up to on Facebook.

I know whose photos he likes and dislikes on Instagram.

I know who he messages, texts, emails, calls, FaceTimes and Skypes the most.


I know his schedule head-to-toe from Calendar, Google Calendar, Sunrise and his alarms.

I know which teams he likes and dislikes, he has downloaded the Super Rugby app.


I know that when he opens Spotify and plays his "Epic Playlist" that he is sitting on a train or bus, headphones in, staring out the window and thinking about life.


I know when he lies alone, or with someone else, and stargazes, for he has downloaded Star Chart. I see that when he does, he ponders and stares and realises how insignificant he is in the universe, and yet he still can do a lot but I only know this because he has written it down in his notes, his notes full of to-do lists and wildlife he has spotted. Jotted down thoughts and carefully planned blog posts.


I can see what knows and what he wants to know, from what tortoise he saw on Philopappou hill to when Imagine Dragons play in Stockholm. From what time the sun rises in Ithaca to the University of York's Environmental Sciences program.


I know where he goes and what he does, what he writes and what he reads, what he searches and what he records and yet I know nothing. I am merely his phone. I can see all this information, but it is only information and I cannot possibly know what is going on through his mind, all the thoughts rolling around up there.

Heck, he probably doesn't even know that himself.