I make my offering at the altar, pay the priest and nod at the high priestess as I leave the temple of Apple on Regents Street. I still have ten minutes to make it.
Taking the straightest route along Oxford Street I notice them now the sun is (at last) shining. Bowing to the omnipresent god of wireless on their handsets. Heads down changing their music, checking the route, calling a companion. Walking in a half world of real and representation. Glancing anxiously ahead to avoid collisions with the shoppers and tourists.
Turning down South Molton Street, I dodge a woman wearing Bose lids jabbing at her phone sending a text. I am going to be a few minutes late.
In the Matrix Morpheus welcomes Neo after he swallows the red pill with: ‘Welcome to the desert of the real’. But I see my friend outside Starbucks from 300 yards. Haven’t seen her for four years, but she stands out, tall and well-dressed.
We buy our cappuccinos and sit down to chat. She is now working in merchant banking. Her phone rings…
We live in a wireless world that is fully integrated into our lives. It's a technology whose time has come.