A friend of mine, a young widowed mother, lives alone with her two young daughters. Two days ago she received the following SMS message on her mobile phone.

You have a lovely house. I didn’t touch the television.

At first she thought this was someone pulling a prank on her. She tried calling the number that the SMS was sent from but got no answer. For two nights she hardly slept a wink, worried sick that some weird serial killer was stalking her. I’ll come back to this episode in a minute.

   There was a time, in the not so distant past, when SMS’s and Tweets were unimaginable. They didn’t even turn up in science fiction novels. That was a time where you would buy a 700 page novel and read the entire book because you had paid for it, even though it bored you to tears. It was a time you’d buy a record album unheard because you loved the cover and would listen to it for days afterwards hoping it would get better the more you heard it.

   Nowadays our concentration span is challenged by the immediacy of the moment. MTV more or less buried the possibility that music was actually meant to be listened to. Kids have no incentive at all to read anything that’s not on the back of a cerial box. Books belong to an era  before everything could be downloaded from a pirate torrent site. Software like Stumble Upon allows you to zap web sites in much the same manner that you zap TV stations – in this way you see a montage of entertainment without actually focusing on any of it. Encyclopaedia’s  are now extinct and as ancient history as the dinosaurs. Wikipedia  is the only thing that matters, and truth is only what you make of it. Everything is accessible and disposable. Nothing is repaired anymore, it’s cheaper to throw out and buy new. Buy two $4 magazines at a store and the girl (or guy I’m not one to discriminate) at the cash desk takes out a calculator to sum up your purchases. Why bother with simple maths, let technology rule. But give a four year old a mobile telephone and you’ll find they can type at the speed of light.
   So back to my friend with the frightening SMS message. After a couple of sleepless nights her boyfriend took over and spent the best of the next day trying to get an answer. At around four in the afternoon he finally got an answer.

   “I would like an answer regarding the SMS you sent my girlfriend“, he told the man who answered, using his best Stallone impersonation.
   “I’m not sure I follow” came the reply. “Anyway, this is my wife’s phone, I’ll put her on.”
There was a brief silence and the voice of an elderly women came on.
    “Hello, this is Ethel.”
    “I want to know why you sent my girlfriend a threatening message.”
    “I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about. Who am I speaking with?”
    “You sent a text message  claiming you had broken into the house and…”
    “Why would I ever do such a thing. I’m sure you’re mistaken. Are you sure you have the right number?”
    “Are you saying you didn’t sent a message to Mary?”
    “Mary?”
     “Yes Mary Simmons.”
    “Wait,  did you say Mary Simmons? I have a niece by that name, but I would never harm her. She’s one of my favorites. You think I sent her a threatening text message?.”
    “Yes, your number is attached to it.”
    “Oh Dear! I think I understand now. You see I have two Marys on my phone. It would seem I sent the message to the wrong one. I’ve just spent the weekend at my friend Mary’s cabin up North.”
     “Well I suppose that just about clears it all up. Quite funny when you think about it. Just one thing that puzzles me. What was the story with the television?”
     “Well she tried to teach me how to work it, over the phone, but I sort of gave up. You see I’m not very good with all these modern appliances.”
     “Tell me about it.”

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