Four years ago, in 2012, I decided to upgrade my brain. The purchase of the Samsung Galaxy S3 meant that the totality of human knowledge was now accessible to me anytime, anywhere.
The pathway by which this data is accessed originates in my grey matter, weaves down through clunky typing fingers, and extends out to some remote server and back, before flowing up the optical nerves, to close the loop. It does exhibit significantly more lag than my biological neuron-to-neuron network; however this is a small price to pay for omnipotence.
Engineers will solve the latency problem in time, anyways.
Fast forward to this morning, when I decided to purchase the Nexus 5x. I completed the transaction using the web browser on the S3. Did my brain just upgrade itself?
It’s not just me however: Modern society is obsessed with the acquisition of these brain-mods. The time between new model releases is shrinking and sales are only on the rise. What is it that we are trying to achieve by this endless cycle of self-upgrade? Why is there such a high priority on the enhancement of this distributed neural pathway?
The answer to that question is especially tough when you consider the vast majority who use their enhanced brains only to post pictures, build farms, and crush candy. We have the accumulated knowledge of our entire species as an integrated part of us now, yet we embrace only the most mundane of applications. Why, on the precipice of singularity, do we find ourselves so apathetic?