We have been so desensitized by a hundred and fifty years of ceaselessly
expanding technical prowess that we think nothing less complex and showy than a
computer or a jet bomber deserves to be called “technology” at all. As if linen
were the same thing as flax — as if paper, ink, wheels, knives, clocks, chairs,
aspirin pills, were natural objects, born with us like our teeth and fingers —
as if steel saucepans with copper bottoms and fleece vests spun from recycled
glass grew on trees, and we just picked them when they were ripe…
