For several years I’ve often worked from home, but of course this year most of my colleagues at work have had little choice but to begin to do the same. As a consequence of the coronavirus lockdown, like so many others, I suddenly found I was taking part in a lot more online meetings, both for work, and with friends.
It’s great that these technologies allow us see each other when we are talking. The experience is not as good as being with, but there does seem to be a stronger feeling of presence than is the case with just a phone call. Of course the shiny newness of this sensation soon wears off as the technology quickly grows more familiar. It already seems quite odd to imagine now, that meeting people using remote video was for a long time an idea largely in the realm of science fiction, or James Bond movies, something with a glamour that bordered almost on thrilling …
Lockdown meeting
Is anybody there?
Can you hear me?
UN-MUTE! They are shouting,
a small informal ensemble pew,
like a University Challenge choir,
feedback buzzers primed.
It’s right there, just CLICK IT!
My mouse-palmed ouija
sweeps and taps the table,
rendering both more and less remote
the possibility of presence.
And what does it mean
in Microsoft Teams,
if only one has camera off?
Is their webcam broken?
Did they forget to shave?
Are they still undressed?
Or is the house just too much mess
for morning discretion.
A late-night party gone just too far
to find absolution in the gaussian
caress of background blur.
Those present gaze down,
or top-left, or anywhere else,
speaking to an invisible presence,
a congregation unsure
of the exact location in the room,
of an obscure lurking god.
Absent Charlie on intercom,
commissioning the Angels,
while – who knows? –
observing in sight unseen,
that this episode seems
far less glamorous,
than once-upon-a-time.
.
.
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