By Ryan Lawler
I entered a movie a few weeks ago by flashing a Passbook receipt. It
was my first time doing so, and the process went about as seamlessly as
one would hope. I just opened up the Passbook entry, showed it to the
ticket checker and voila! Access was approved!
That movie theater experience is just one example where digital tools
have overtaken the need for paper or printed receipts: I’ve taken to
using mobile boarding passes when possible, rather than printing them
out at the airport. I pay with Square Wallet whenever available, rather
than having vendors print out receipts for me to endorse. I pay my rent,
cable, phone, and all other utilities online. In the past two years
since moving into my apartment, I’ve written a total of 24 checks. Just
one per month, maybe less.
All small things, it seems, and things that I’m thinking less and
less about. The behavior is becoming automatic, but it highlights a
shift in the foundational layer of commerce and information exchange
that we’ve undergone.
Most
of the examples above are about how spending or commerce habits have
changed with the help of Internet- and mobile-powered money exchange,
but it’s not the only aspect of my life that’s gone digital. I haven’t
bought a physical book for myself in I don’t know how long, instead
purchasing and reading books on my iPad. And lest we forget, I write for
a publication that appears only online. But I also only really access
any other publications over the Internet — I can’t remember the last
time I had newsprint smudging my fingers.
There are those who would argue that this is not necessarily a good
thing, that there are real advantages to having and owning physical
things, like books, for instance. Or actual analog photos, for instance.
In a world filled with Instagrams, where the only place one ever sees
photos of his friends is online, one of my favorite startups is
Sincerely, which makes it easier for people to print out and distribute
their digital photos to others.
And then there’s the environmental argument against — that we’re
routinely destroying millions of square miles in printing out all sorts
of goods, whether they be newspapers or receipts or airline boarding
passes, all of which have pretty limited value after a certain amount of
time, and most of which end up in the trash. (Or hopefully recycled.)
But there’s a bigger question about what happens to all this
information as it’s digitized. And it’s not just books and information
put on paper that fall into this category, but all matter of information
as it goes from some physical, semi-permanent medium to online. I’m
talking about films, which existed on projected reels and tape and then
discs, to music, which at some point used to be etched into records, and
then cassettes and CDs.
So
much of what we know about the past has come from documents passed down
to us, whether they be on stone tablets or cuneiform or, well, paper.
What does it say about us as a culture that is slowly killing off this
method of information transferral. In 20 years, if there are no physical
books, what will future cultures know about us in 220 years, when
digital memories are likely wiped away?
This is something I’ve been thinking a lot about over the last few
years, but the death of paper is only beginning to seem like a reality
now. When the nuclear apocalypse hits, will all our bits and bytes
survive, or will evidence of our thoughts and culture just disappear
into the ether?
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