From Mistrust to Enchantment: a Brief Response to Rose’s “Enchanted Objects”
Once upon a time, a curious and excited designer was given the task of reading an enlightened and prescient scroll on the future of technology and humans. Having grown up in a generation that saw the advent and sale of tape players, CD players, iPods, and music streaming all within her formative early years, she sometimes felt a sense of resistance and mistrust for technology and was suspicious of the message the scroll contained.
Whenever the young designer would explore faraway websites and e-commerce destinations, she would travel with dread of The Cookies following her, enticing her with their perfectly tailored siren songs of purchase choices. With this stealthy surveillance, the designer finds it difficult to know what are her true wants and what have The Powers determined should be her desires. This scroll seemed to be just another way to convince her that the future was The Cloud and she was powerless to its ever encroaching reach.
The designer spent time over a few days reading the scroll, surprising herself at her interest in the words written within it and that there were even arguments she agreed with from time to time. She was instructed to read the scroll in order to move on to her next journey and even though it was mandatory, she found herself enjoying the writing.
Having lived through the changes in technology that she had, the designer considered how things so inhuman as cold and unloving as metal and wires could make warm, pliable beings more themselves. How could something not human make humans more human?, she wondered. Eventually, she came to see that an enchanted use of technology would allow people to “remain fundamentally human, but technology-hacked.” Taking objects and actions that are already engrained, accepted, and “natural” parts of life, but giving them “magic,” can make them even more human than before because technology extends the use of those objects in the direction of already present human desires. She felt that using technology to serve already present desires in humans for their benefit was a better use of The Cloud’s power than artificially and malevolently manufacturing desires solely for economic gain. We are not instruments to be plucked and played just for anyone’s fancy and gain, the designer staunchly thought to herself.
Despite the occasional head nod of approval and positive outlook while reading the scroll, the designer still found herself resenting the ubiquitousness of screens and the Internet and “sensing” and haptics in her world — that is, until she reached the writing on the human desire for immortality. The scribe of these wise writings expressed his wish that his elders could have benefited from the use of enchanted objects for their health and well-being, detailing his own inventions. The designer herself has elders in her life that she could imagine using cloud-connected objects to support their health and memory. Her grandfather frequently leaves home without his mobile device, worrying his family. An ambient device placed near the door that could sense he did not have his phone on him (but did have his keys) as he approached the door, could be a gentle reminder for him to take his device before he leaves. Always caring for the humans impacted by products and design, the young designer felt the progression of technology as it related to health and wellness was an area of innovation she could be comfortable with.
As the designer finished her task and headed off on her next adventure, one sentence in particular from the scroll kept rolling around in her mind: “The designers creating enchanted objects must, therefore, think of themselves as something more than manipulators of materials and masters of form…[but] as wizards and artists, enchanters and storytellers, psychologists and behaviorists.” She resolved to always think of herself as more than a designer or maker from that day forward, but as someone who ethically used her skills to delightfully enchant the world. The end.
