Wednesday, April 18, 2012
My webcam sits patiently atop my monitor like a one-eyed alien, waiting to be called for service. I affectionately call him Cam, and do not ask much of him. Perhaps he would have more assignments if only the quality of his work was higher. So, he sits, watching; waiting; wanting to send what he sees, but loyally keeping my secrets. They just don't make gadgets like Cam anymore. He's never failed me, but he's old and can't keep up with the speed of data. Perhaps I'll recruit a new, faster, webcam. I'll call him Snap, and I'll introduce him to Cam so they can be friends. Cam has been looking forward to retirement, so he'll step aside gracefully and let Snap take over. He will refer to Snap as a "young whipper-snapper" and marvel over his pixels. He'll talk of days gone by when cameras dreamed of having half that many, and reminisce about how it was before Skype. He'll say, "Those were the days when the software was simple". Snap no doubt will be eager to get started, so I'll plug him in, but I won't put Cam away, yet. He'll remain sitting atop my monitor, watching; waiting for the day when Snap doesn't want to work. We know it will come, because they just don't make gadgets like Cam anymore.