Hooked
Page 25
Allegedly, cohorts of Glenn Kindle were involved in rat experimentation to see if the rodents would abandon food in favor of feeding the pleasure centers of their brains with electrical stimulation thought to be similar to that experienced by heavy computer users.
A perhaps more telling initial indication of the possibility and prevalence of computer-based addiction is anecdotal. Around the country, psychologists and counselors are reporting a growth in the number of people professing “addiction” to their computers and Internet use. This phenomenon—entailing people feeling a compulsive interest in surfing the Internet, checking voice mail, and using their phones, often at the same time—had previously been considered to be an act of volition.
In light of the arrest of Mr. Kindle, and his company attorney, David Elliott, there is some concern that a more traditional form of addiction is plausible. Indeed, some counselors have begun treating the activity like a physical compulsion, urging if not complete disconnection for users, then limited interaction—relegated even merely to work hours—to try to mitigate the impact of the stimulus-feedback loop.
The medical theory behind computer-based addiction has some parallels to attention deficit disorder. The constant digital stimulation created raises the level of certain neurochemicals. When the stimulation ceases, the body craves elevated levels of chemicals. Yet it has been difficult to determine precisely how the technology might work, and thus impact the brain. Complicating the pursuit of answers is the bizarre fate of Kindle’s daughter, Annie Kindle. Glenn Kindle’s attorneys assert the young woman was the mastermind of the computer-stimulation technology. But this allegation has been difficult to substantiate; around the time of her father’s arrest, Ms. Kindle disappeared—diving into Lake Mead to evade authorities. She is presumed dead.
Also anecdotal has been an appearance of what some counselors are calling a new round of cases of extreme computer addiction—hundreds of people who seem so entranced by the computing experience that it is cutting into every aspect of their lives. Characteristics of the “illness” entail frequent, compulsive multitasking, and a pressing urge to fill life with stimulation or distraction. Sufferers feel bored in the absence of something to do, and tend to seek out a focus, an activity, even an intense discussion—the kind of emotional spur that Freudian thinkers would refer to as drama.
Curiously, the emergence of this strain has coincided recently with what computer experts are saying is the appearance of a new variant of computer worm; like many worms, it causes pop-up advertisements, but these images are subliminal, flickering only briefly on the screen.
Counselors say that if people feel their computer has contracted the worm, if they increasingly feel unable to understand why they are constantly drawn to their gadgets, they may be under powers greater than their control. The only choice at that point, experts said, is to unhook.
At that point in the story, the text was interrupted by a graphic—a visual conceived by my editor, Kevin—that showed a mystical beam of particles traveling from screen to brain. It prompted me to laugh aloud.
“Medical journals don’t have a reputation for being that funny,” a woman’s voice said. Erin took a seat at the table next to me in the café. She wore the uniform of someone who had just been on a jog, her hair in a ponytail.
“You get your comedy from the New York Times,” I reminded her.
A few weeks earlier, Erin had introduced me to a game she’d invented called “How’d They Die?” She would read me an obituary and I would have to guess the person’s cause of death.
I was hanging out with Erin a lot, and even learning to appreciate her interest in free-form dance.
My physical symptoms induced by the computer had faded, actually, very shortly after I disconnected myself from the loaded laptop. Samantha helped, throwing some wicked spiritual voodoo my way, though I took a decided break from acupuncture, and Bullseye aided my healing with what he referred to as his holistic beer-and-big-screen-TV treatment.
My feelings about Annie took a predictable path from disbelief to anger, and then wound up in a less expected place. While I no longer romanticized Annie herself or wanted her to return—I’m done dating sociopaths—I continued to wrestle with the feelings she stirred. How could I distinguish between the healthy version of passion and the destructive version of the same thing? Once you’ve felt such connection, real or imagined, how do you not yearn for it again?
Maybe alcoholics feel just that way—forever knowing the most beautiful taste in the world will kill them. How does any of us know if the short-term obsessive pursuit of something we love—working, nutritional eating, following celebrity love lives and daily news developments, gambling, exercising, reading—comes at the expense of long-term happiness?
What is true, and what is distraction? What is love?
Maybe it depends for each of us on how we metabolize emotion and experience, or simply what we choose to believe. With each passing day, I gain a little wisdom that lets me recognize which people and experiences are my own fifth of Jack Daniel’s.
The next love will be less great, and greater.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It takes a village to create a work of fiction. In that spirit, I humbly thank:
My parents. Dad, for teaching me about big ideas and awe. Mom, for teaching me to look and listen for the tiny moments and emotions that matter most. I love you both.
My selfless bride, Meredith Jewel (last name to be determined), for patience, stability, persevering affection, creativity, personal and editorial insight, and the ability to ignore bouts of weirdness and see the greater good.
Barney, Bob, Brad, Cheryl, Josh, and Trish (alphabetically ordered), for the early encouragement, crucial feedback, and plot and character ideas otherwise unseen.
Sara-Jane, for grammatical genius (this is wrong somehow, isn’t it?).
Alex, Ana and Zach, Annie Richtel, the Concerned Fellows League, Dr. Ratey, Erik, Gary, the Grove, Jake, Jay, Kara, Karen, Kevin, Leah (and your mom), Noel, Rick, Skol, Stacey, Susan, the Syers, Tic, and the cadre of Stanford MDs, for reading, encouraging, providing joy, beer drinking, and liar’s dice (I own you).
Hot chocolates and guacamole, for essential snacking.
Laurie Liss of Sterling Lord Literistic, amazing agent, fighter, a book’s midwife.
Jonathan Karp, (exacting and brilliant) editor and publisher. You’ve got the sixth sense. And to the Twelve’s Nate Gray, Cary Goldstein, and Mari Okuda.
In memory of Alyse Neundorf, who graced the world with a fierce and compassionate love.
Thanks to you all and those unintentionally forgotten but deeply appreciated, for what has been an unequivocally collaborative effort, and to all the writers who have inspired me. And, again, to guacamole.
Matt Richtel
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MATT RICHTEL is a reporter for the New York Times. Since 2000, he has worked in the paper’s San Francisco bureau, covering technology and telecommunications.
Under the pen name Theron Heir, he writes the syndicated daily comic strip Rudy Park, which is published in newspapers around the country and was dubbed by Newsweek as one of the contenders for new signature strip of the decade.
Matt grew up in Boulder, Colorado, and lives in San Francisco. He can be reached at mattrichtel@gmail.com or through his Web site, www.mattrichtel.com.
About TWELVE
TWELVE was established in August 2005 with the objective of publishing no more than one book per month. We strive to publish the singular book, by authors who have a unique perspective and compelling authority. Works that explain our culture; that illuminate, inspire, provoke, and entertain. We seek to establish communities of conversation surrounding our books. Talented authors deserve attention not only from publishers, but from readers as well. To sell the book is only the beginning of our mission. To build avid audiences of readers who are enriched by these works—that is our ultimate purpose.
For more information about forthcom
ing TWELVE books, please go to www.twelvebooks.com.