Once, human connection was a thing of great weight. A letter took weeks to arrive, a conversation stretched across hours, a visit required the exertion of travel. There was intention. There was substance. There was depth.
Now, we check in.
We send messages of supreme efficiency—How are you? (a question that no longer requires an actual answer). We respond with the briefest of affirmations—Good, you? (a transaction, rather than an exchange). We pepper our days with these interactions, quick digital gestures that serve no real purpose other than to confirm that we still exist.
And we do this endlessly. A reply. A like. A reaction. A thumbs-up to acknowledge a thumbs-up. A conversation about nothing stretched across days, punctuated by long silences and the occasional haha yeah.
It is not communication; it is the pantomime of communication, the illusion of connection without the risk of depth.
But what, then, is the core function of the phone?
Is it a tool of communication, or is it something more sinister—an instrument of interruption, an engine of compulsive presence? We believe we use the phone to connect, but more often, it is an escape hatch, a means of sidestepping true engagement, an ever-present excuse to be near each other without ever really being with each other.
We do not ask, What keeps you awake at night? We do not ask, What have you lost? We do not ask, What is it like to be you?
No, instead we check in.
And what, exactly, are we checking? That the other person is alive? That they remain tethered to their own screen, performing the same motions, waiting for the next notification to arrive? That neither of us, God forbid, has been left alone with our thoughts for too long?
If you must send a message, send one that matters. If you must call, call not out of habit but out of necessity. And when they answer, do not rush to fill the silence—let it stretch, let it become the space where something genuine might take shape.
Or, if that feels too exhausting, simply send Good, you? and continue on with your day.
The phone will not stop you. It does not care whether you reach for depth or settle for routine. It has no preference.
But you should.
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