Now that the returns to what we thought were normal are beginning to filter, I detect nostalgia for the zoom in the minutes that I spend looking at the screen of the microwave oven, wanting to go out on the street in undergarments (keeping my torso tied) and in the irrational propensity to dialogue with the TV screen (as if the series were a dialogue from a distance and not an untouchable drama). I have nostalgia for zooming in the clear desire to anchor myself to the desk and continue to enjoy a feeling of greater productivity against the grain of the return to delays, traffic jams and generalized neurosis.
Above all, nostalgia for the zoom appears in the episodes of the renewed external reality in which –except for the vaccination certificates, the nasal penetrations for antigen tests and the parade of masks- it seems that nothing has changed on the planet. The diplomat Jaime Nualart is right when he affirms that “the world took centuries to assume round so that in 12 months we would make our lives of squares” and thus I declare a salve to the screen over the cumbersome process of bumping someone else’s fists or putting the hand on the heart when facing the healthy distance of the old affections and I cry out for a virtual greeting without schedules or drills – either in writing or in virtual projection – over the beating of going back to support live lectures, flicking in the armchair with the panic of falling asleep and not being able to turn off the video of the surrounding reality.
I have also thought that it does not hurt any organization to ponder the urgent need to evaluate all the good and beneficial that saving from remote activity means, the convenience that a high percentage of tasks became more intense, productive and beneficial in line above the return to idle hours in bureaucratic distraction, cumbersome transfers and all that we could call the choreography of coexistence. In a recent grueling experience, I attended a two-day conference, the impressive expense of which could have saved the transfers – by plane, train, and car – of all attendees, as well as the expense of papers, circulars, brochures, projectors, folders, pens, and other courtesies (which many left abandoned in the rooms of the respective hotels) and also, we could have connected better and with wide routes around the world instead of limiting the face-to-face capacity, in addition to not submitting ourselves to the daily test of drilling collective nasal, the recurrent manual lubrication with gels of varied alcoholic liquidity and that prelude to sleepwalking apnea where the masks seem to be synchronized with a snoring silence as soon as the boredom of one or more lectures seem to invite sleep.
I have nostalgia for the zoom and many advantages of confinement, of all the little stories that the plague pandemic of our era generated because I have memorized the painful list of my dead who were healthy and alive when all this began, when the long wait for the unpredicted vaccine that, even with its arrival, absences would add up and when the nest where everyone has made a home had an aseptic window open to the world, tight to the same screen where you write, read, draw and watch movies … a multimedia delusion that soon has to be installed in glasses or helmets or brain frames so that what we already call new normal fulfill its essential condition of augmented reality.
That said, I warn family and friends of the high probability of becoming a hologram, lose weight with Photoshop, and finally achieve! the gift of universal ubiquity, the electronic tuning of my voices and the magic of participating in table-hours, gatherings or lectures with the help of intangible screens that successively project my emotions and gestures while everyone else believes I am convinced.
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