People find me peculiar. They think it’s odd that I spend most of my waking hours wearing eight or nine Internet-connected computers sewn into my clothing and that I wear opaque wrap-around glasses day and night, inside and outdoors. They find it odd that to sustain wireless communications during my travels, I will climb to the hotel roof to rig my room with an antenna and Internet connection. They wonder why I sometimes seem detached and lost, but at other times I exhibit vast knowledge of their specialty. A physicist once said he felt that I had the intelligence of a dozen experts in his discipline; a few minutes later, someone else said they thought I was mentally handicapped.
Despite the peculiar glances I draw, I wouldn’t live any other way. I have melded technology with my person and achieved a higher state of awareness than would otherwise be possible. I see the world as images imprinted onto my retina by rays of light controlled by several computers, which in turn are controlled by cameras concealed inside my glasses.
Every morning I decide how I will see the world that day. Sometimes I give myself eyes in the back of my head. Other days I add a sixth sense, such as the ability to feel objects at a distance. If I’m going to ride my bicycle, I’ll want to feel the cars and trucks pressing against my back, even when they are a few hundred feet away.
Things appear different to me than they do to other people. I see some items as hyperobjects that I can click on and bring to life. I can choose stroboscopic vision to freeze the motion of rotating automobile tires and see how many bolts are on the wheels of a car going over 60 miles per hour, as if it were motionless. I can block out the view of particular objects-sparing me the distraction, for example, of the vast sea of advertising around me.