Hi Tech, the Real Religion

No subject is too deep, too complex, too intricate for JoeAm's lavish opinion mongering. No idea is beyond the grasp of his far-reaching guesswork.

This month I've written about the Bible, about bamboo, about President Aquino and Filipino social failures. Before that I dealt with education in the Philippines, the Occupy Movement in the US, and pasted various commentaries about the Filipino condition onto the Big Internet Clipboard in the Sky. Or wherever it may reside . . .

It's time to deal with technology.

Hi-Tech is a strange phenomenon. The pace of change is faster than the human mind can comprehend. Faster smaller better. We wake up every morning knowing that this computer we are typing on has become a creaky, decrepit instrument of the past, lacking the power to process the newest gaming software or grab all the information that is available to us in the Cloud.

I can do an image search on Google and get 10 million pictures delivered in .38 seconds, of which my brain can only process about 50 looking for one I like. And it takes me way longer than .38 seconds to pick one. Without question, the electronic processing of information is bigger than any of us. Far bigger. It is alive, expanding as we sit here. Controlled by no one individual or corporation or government. Even computers themselves are doing the creation, filling in the programming code or drawing the graphics that no man has the speed or power to do.

"Relax, Joe. It is not a sentient being. It has no soul. It is just a lot of processes working at the same time."

Okay, but as a whole it is stronger than any sentient being, wiser, and has its own personality. It gets bugs and viruses and even from time to time blows up. It can be poked in Virginia and a nuclear experiment in Iran dissolves. A young man can sit in a cave in Colorado and watch a bomb from the sky pulverize 20 Afghani terrorists like so much red dust thrown to the wind. A brilliant young Chinese hacker sitting in a shiny office building in Shanghai can prowl through secret CIA documents or copy Boeing airplane plans. You, too, can spy on Iran or the US of A or Russia using Google Earth's friendly space cam.

What do you call this power? It is more than "The Internet". That is just a connection of clunky computers. It is more than "The Cloud". That is just a bunch of clunky computers with a lot of memory. It  is not limited by wires, but flies unseen through the air. It has the five senses, sight, sound, touch, smell, and taste, as well as predictive ability beyond the human mind.

It is closer to God than any human has ever become. All seeing. Powerful. It will last until the death of the planet. It is beyond human control.

I want to worship it.

What do I call this elegant combination of hardware and software, satellites and cameras, sensors and detectors, and memory large enough to store all human thought?

"Your Highness" comes up flat. This is bigger than a king.

"Divine One" is nice. I wonder if the good Pastor would approve of that. Probably not. My typing those words has probably, in his eyes, just condemned me to Hell and only his prayers can keep me out.

"Your Intricate Bigness".

Ha ha, that is funny. But it disparages the glorious elegance of the entity.

"Your Exquisite Connectivity"

"Supreme Processor"

"Mighty Ion"

"Oh Grand Silicon Savior"

"Your Stupendous Binary Eloquence"

And For sure we need religious rites to certify that our faith in the processing power is true. Candles are out, for the Catholic Church burns so many that it is a primary source of global warming. Incense is nice, but India is likewise polluting the globe with odors and faith.

Our Christmas tree is pretty this year, so I'm rather thinking the LED lights that make it burn and blink so brightly are what we need. But what symbol?

The cross is superb, but taken. Halos are taken. Crowns and jewels and martyrs and fat guys in loincloths are taken.

I tell you, building a religion is difficult work.

What about a book? I think we could compile all the "Computers for Dummies" tomes and put together a pretty good story. We could whip up a little allegory, a psalm or two. Put in a forecast of doom at the end as a stern warning that we ought to respect that to which we bow and for sure listen to the preachers. We will refrain from mentioning the profits. . . oops, I mean prophets.

We're getting close here.

Praise the Chip and pass the UBS Cable!

Halleluiah Brother!