"Electronic Calendar. Darkness Spreading to the Right." Essay by Yu Shinada
2020.12.10.Electronic calendar. Darkness spreading to the right.
I saw a video on YouTube of someone diving into the deep ocean.
As we go deeper, the blue light fades and darkness envelopes our view. The fish habitat has long since disappeared, so there is no sign of marine life. It feels as if a giant tentacle will reach out from the depths at any moment.
But if you knew that this deep darkness continued on forever, you would surely long for the tentacles to appear.
People who use paper calendars are now in the minority. Smartphones are equipped with calendar apps that can be used at any time, and that is enough for daily life. It can be said that electronic calendars are superior to paper calendars in every aspect of convenience. With electronic calendars, there is no need to buy a new one every year.
But electronic calendars make me anxious. That anxiety is like the deep sea. People fill the blanks of anxiety with plans.
For some reason, humans dislike empty spaces. When we see a gap, we feel anxious and want to fill it with something. The invention of the clock made time visible and discovered the existence of a blank space called the "future." Modern people are so eager to make plans that the urge to fill visible holes has even invaded our concept of time.
The future displayed on the electronic calendar is seamlessly connected, with blank future dates being generated one after the other as you scroll.
An abyss carved out to the right. No matter how well we plan and execute our plans, our future holds "infinite possibilities." The electronic calendar makes us realize the frightening nuance contained in this formulaic phrase. There is no "bottom" to this path. But somewhere at the end of this scroll, there is the end of "me." I don't know what day of the week it will be.
Electronic calendars have a function that automatically registers daily tasks. This can also be frightening as it can record "schedules" into the infinite future.
I make it a rule to clean the bathtub drain on the 19th of every month. Because I registered this schedule, I now have to clean the bathtub on November 19th in the year 2250.
In the long, long corridor, I can see my back as I clean the bathtub, and we are lined up at equal distances from each other all the way to the back. I am getting older with each passing day, and far away, I am picking at my slimy hair. Even I, who has become like a rotten tree and no longer retains the shape of a living thing, will not be allowed to sleep peacefully in the electronic calendar after many more years.
In comparison, paper calendars are more modest. The calendar ends somewhere. While you're looking at the 2021 calendar, you don't have to think about 2022. So, on days when the infinite future scares you, it's a good idea to use a paper calendar.
It's November 19th, 2250, and I'm cleaning the bathtub again, dreaming of tentacles reaching out from the drain and entangling me.
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