The truth is that everything you do changes your brain. Everything. Every little thought or experience plays a role in the constant wiring and rewiring of your neural networks. So there is no escape. Yes, the internet is rewiring your brain. But so is watching television. And having a cup of tea. Or not having a cup of tea. Or thinking about the washing on Tuesdays. Your life, however you live it, leaves traces in the brain.

Tom Stafford, writing about the anxiety surrounding brain attention spans in the age of the internet.

In short, everything you do changes your brain in some way. It’s better to approach these new cognitive challenges with an even keel, and not through the lens of technophobia. 

A must read for fans of the brain and the internet, which you all clearly are (or else you wouldn’t be reading this).

BBC Future - Does the internet rewire your brain?

I’m too lazy to draw this out atm but this is all I can think about rn, ok so ara’s gonna get over his technophobia real quick and he’ll be ok with phones. And when he’s a lil older, like 11, I thought like Friday is out somewhere doin whatever and texts Ara, asking him if he wants anything, n Ara can’t think of anything he wants atm so he’d reply like “I want… idk” Which would mean get him whatever, but-
Friday: “You want anything while I’m out?”
Ara: “I want…dik” ( ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) misspelleD IT, I do that sometimes while typing too fast-)
Friday: ” Oh rlly”
Ara: *now realizing his spelling mistake*
Friday: “ 🍆”
Ara: “noO I MEANT IDK”
Friday: “ 🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆”

How did OK Computer’s doomy, alienated alt-rock become one of the most acclaimed albums of the 1990s? The strength of its songs had something to do with it, as this reissue plainly reveals

OK Computer OKNOTOK 1997-2017


In a recent 6Music interview, Radiohead’s Thom Yorke sounded like a man mortified. He explained his first impressions re-examining the lyric notebooks he kept during the recording of 1997’s OK Computer, now freshly reissued with a bonus disc of b-sides and unreleased tracks, plus various extras alongside its vinyl release. His point of entry was “going through my notebooks at the time and making friends with whoever this nutter was”, his cadence placing pointed emphasis on the word “nutter”. It raised a chuckle between himself and interviewer Matt Everitt. “Oh my god,” Yorke gasped. “You think I’m bad now… [there were] just pages of ‘Seriously, mate, you need to take a break’”. It was a greatly endearing moment, yet you couldn’t escape yourself thinking that a large portion of the general public came to that same conclusion. Twenty years since its release, the album has since crystallised Yorke in the public imagination as a kind of chronic sulking, cheerless depressive, a man whose twitchy debut album addressed climate change and David Kelly, the whistleblower who allegedly ended his life after he expressed doubt to the press whether or not Saddam Hussein actually had the weapons of mass destruction that provided justification for the 2003 Iraq invasion. OK Computer itself brims with Y2K paranoia, suspicion and utter despair.

There are songs with names that hint at modern life malaise and sixth-form poetry: Subterranean Homesick Alien, Electioneering, Paranoid Android. The lyrics cover such cheery topics as social alienation, consumerism in the age of globalisation, faceless corporations and shady oppressive regimes (“When I am king, you will be first against the wall”; “This is what you’ll get when you mess with us”; “Bring down the government, they don’t speak for us”), technophobia and environmental disaster (“I keep forgetting the smell of the warm summer air, I live in a town where you can’t smell a thing”; “A handshake of carbon monoxide, no alarms and no surprises”), best epitomised in the lachrymose yet lovely No Surprises. It finds room for a two-minute spoken word diatribe – the doleful experimental ambient piece Fitter Happier – as if narrated by a depressed robot, the antithesis of Ewan McGregor’s “Choose Life” speech in Trainspotting. Even one of those previously unreleased tracks from the OK Computer era, the gorgeous, rousing ballad I Promise, at first looks like an earnest love song about devotion, but a slight undercurrent of uncertainty in the lyrics complicates things. Soon after OK Computer, the band were the subject of the 1998 documentary Making Friends Is Easy, its ironic title barely hiding its apathy and contempt, an fine example of the exhausting routine of touring, the pressures of fame and how petulant and antisocial it can make you. Regardless, it managed to sell millions of copies and topped the UK Albums Chart.

Thus the question arises: how did this most neurotic of albums become hailed as a modern classic? Maybe it resonated acutely with the times. You could point to the discovery of Dolly the Sheep in 1997 for the start of people’s fears around cloning. Or to IBM’s Deep Blue computer beating Garry Kasparov for the second time and cyberattacks on Microsoft Windows at the time for indications of early doomsday techno-scepticism. But that only tells half the story. Aside from all the eerily accurate portents and lyrics that read like crowd-pleasing sloganeering (“A job that slowly kills you”; “Don’t get sentimental, it always ends up drivel”), OK Computer communicates something more personal, more universal and more human, even if the band responsible for it appear to be fighting against it. Take for example, Paranoid Android, its relative ubiquity and accessibility obscuring how odd and ever-so-slightly pompous a song it is: equally dazzling, pretentious and exhausting, splicing together its disparate musical passages. It becomes easy to see why some thought Radiohead were really more the students of 70s prog than 80s post-punk and alternative rock: the headline for the Village Voice’s album review read “Punk Floyd”. It must have appeared perverse for a band who started life as a messy, grunge-ish outfit and were noted fans of the Pixies to end up producing stuff like Lucky, arguably the closest the band get to aping Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon, with its echoing, soloing guitar, or Man of War, another unreleased track, pitched somewhere between an epic Bond theme and classic rock bombast – both songs where Jonny Greenwood unleashes his inner Brian May or David Gilmour.

This distinctly, wilfully proggy sensibility never truly lasts. Even at their most difficult, Radiohead can’t avoid writing a compelling tune. OK Computer contains an embarrassment of excellent songs, nearly all them laden with indelible melodies, from Let Down’s simple, twinkling prettiness to the lush, mildly jazzy, warbling sway that snakes and eddies about on Subterranean Homesick Alien. Sometimes they were able to keep that agitation in check, pressing it into the service of fantastic songwriting. Airbag’s bassline, like a murmur amid the tangles of overdriven guitars, interrupts drums that take their influence from DJ Shadow’s hip-hop plunderphonics. The spooked, sped-up-and-slowed-down samples that witter and groan away on Climbing Up the Walls sound like the shrill “flock of seagulls” sound effects on the Beatles’ Tomorrow Never Knows, albeit sullied by turn-of-the-millennium anxiety; the whole thing finally succumbs to distortion and the sort of detuned, atonal string arrangements that Jonny Greenwood weaves into his film scores. Electioneering’s sprightly post-punk racket recalls mid-80s R.E.M. if their sound attempted to match the weirdness of the nervy, dad-dancing Michael Stipe of their early years.

But mostly, everything here is all too human instead of cerebral, providing moments that aim for your gut and not your brain, like the moment Exit Music (For a Film)’s distorted bass riff and crashing drums take the reins – never mind that it conjures up the dreaded spectre of Muse, whose histrionic take on OK Computer, replete with worldwide conspiracy and grave intimations of Big Brother dystopia, was thoroughly unappealing. Something similar happens on the immensely enjoyable Karma Police, its almighty, cathartic second half coming through like rays of sunshine behind grey, brooding clouds; it approaches something like a colossal, anthemic, festival-singalong via Yorke’s soaring, affecting falsetto: “For a minute there, I lost myself”. You have to admit that’s a rather strange thing to do: to write a song about rueful, you’ll-get-yours rancour where the moment the protagonist suddenly rebukes themselves becomes genuinely life-affirming, but perhaps that’s the root to OK Computer’s genius and its success. Beneath all the fraught angst is a band cleverly and warmly examining the human condition.

Technophilia and technophobia form a diabolical pair joined together by a central untruth: that such a thing as the technical exists. It would be possible, apparently, to divide between what is technical and what is not, in human existence.
—  To Our Friends
Casefile #0141
The Riddler

Casefile #0141

riddlcr said: Hello Riddler, I was wondering what your thoughts are on robots/drones. I know you have a gift at programming them and seem to use them more in your latest schemes but at what point do you think relying on them becomes lazy? Thank you for taking the time to read my question and I wish you pleasant day.

[Transcript Included Below]

Keep reading

arwenxs  asked:

"Listen, I am genetically modified and on the run and you will let me hide in your house" au for winteriron please?

So, I finally finished arwenxs’s ask (sorry for the late response) I hope you like it (this is pre-slash and it has some promise so maybe I can come back later and continue, let me know what you think)

Tony would be gladder of his latest “upgrades” if it weren’t for the fact that he was been chased by the people who forced another bout of mods onto his organic system and for fuck’s sakes he missed Pepper and JARVIS, with their constant nagging about how he was indeed a real flesh and blood-soul bound boy. As Tony, who’s been dodging EMP-bullets and also the other kind that could still make him bleed, ducked into an empty dead end alleyway, because he was honestly tired, his pursuers were going the merry-way-round  so he had at the very least, a minute to breathe and regroup.

One of the upsides of this late bad hand is the ability to calculate 3 times faster and his flash quick scan revealed an empty apartment on the last floor of a building, Tony took a running leap and made it to the emergency staircase with agility that he use to lack in his late 30’s and after the reactor. Procuring to make the least amount of noise, Tony broke into the apartment and did another scan; paranoia was more of an ally than a hindrance. The place seem well kept but small, it had the one bedroom and a small bathroom, an open space that was a mesh of living-dinning-room with a narrow breakfast bar that separated the equally small kitchen. It was there he found a newspaper (and why did people insist on those still, he’d never know) he tried to pin-point how long he’d been gone this kidnapping around and after seeing the date, Tony lost a bit of time.

He knew he made it into the shower before completely losing it, but that’s about it. 18 months, he’s been gone for a year and half! They had him for that long, experimenting on him, making him even more machine, altering him for 547 days. Tony startled out his fugue when a door closed, with the alterations it sounded more like a gunshot, it made him stay, exactly where he was, hyper aware of the shuffling footsteps and the thud of a bag, the opening of a fridge and then the person - whoever they were, most likely the tenant of this matchbox sized apartment- got closer to his hiding place. Ha, if Natasha could see cocksure, arrogant, narcissistic Tony Stark now.  

Bright flashes of information overload seized him momentarily and then he was trapped inside the tub of some stranger, while they took a piss, goddamnit! Tony tried his very best to remain still and keep his breathing to a minimum not that it seem to do anything, because he found himself staring at the barrel of a gun pointed at his head after the curtain had been yanked.

Before the other man could say anything, Tony had his hands up (he missed his suits, the weight of his gauntlets, JARVIS in his ear) and spoke as fast as he could. “Listen, I was kidnapped, genetically  modified and currently on the run.” The man didn’t lowered his gun but he looked…confused? “will you let me hide in your house?”

In the very uncomfortable silence that reigned afterwards, Tony studied the man before him. The way he was holding the gun suggested familiarity and experience, maybe a police officer, nah, the man was quiet and studious; patient, like a sniper. He was also pretty good looking with pale eyes, dark hair and stubble and if Tony was right, hiding a body that was tight as a drum and hard as a brick wall. Glad to know his libido was still alive, just wrong time to make itself known. “Who are you?”

“What, a man takes a forced sabbatical for a year and half and the general public forgets his name?” The man just raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by Tony’s wit. Sighing with resignation, Tony answers at last. “My name is Tony Stark, owner and former CEO of Stark Industries, there.”

Instead of relaxing, the man frowned and took aim, growling. “Bullshit, Tony Stark was pronounced dead…”

Tony does his very best not to flinch at the vehemence in the guys voice and interrupts him. “Let me guess, a year and a half ago? I almost did, you know? Touch and go for a while. Which is why the fuckers that took me gave something and no, I don’t fucking know, alright? All I know is that I was there for the last 18 months and they want me back and I can’t call JARVIS or Pepper without alerting them and for fuck’s sakes I haven’t even looked in a mirror, I must look like a deranged hobo, godfuckingdamnit! I just wanna go the fuck home to my ‘bots and maybe take a hot shower and learn what the fuck did they inject me with and sleep, I wanna sleep and coffee and can you fucking please get that fucking gun outta my face!?”

One of his hands was over the reactor and the other on the wall of the shower, his breathing was shallow and he was really, really close to panic. Tony understood the stranger, he’d for all intents and purposes broken into the man’s home but the mere thought of falling into the hands of the people who’d kept him captive for almost 2 years was too much. “…HEY! Slowly, breathe in, hold it. 1, 2, 3 and let it out. Good, again; in. hold it. 1, 2, 3 and out. Very good, dollface, that’s it.”

Somehow, Tony went from being a possible threat to dollface in the span of shortness of breath, and shit that tone of voice shouldn’t give him head tingles, shouldn’t relax him so, but apparently this guy was a “Tony Whisperer”. When he felt he had a lid back on the shitstorm of emotions he had no time to deal with, Tony looked at the man, who was looking at him with too much understanding. “Is there someone you can call? To at least tell them you’re safe?”

It was his turn to look distrustfully at the man. “Am I? Safe, am I?”

“Wha- Yes! I saw some shady shit on my way up here and I doubt someone looking as roughed up as you do will make up being on the run from kidnappers, so I’ll ask again; do you have someone you can call to tell them you’re safe?”

“I can’t call them. You’ll have to do it, the less I expose myself the better you’ll be.”

“I can take care of myself!” And there was that growl again, lovely.

“I don’t doubt that, Robocop. I just don’t want to risk you if I can help it.” Tony tried to placate the man. He felt the sting of the flashing influx of information and wherever they have kept him until now had to be deep underground because since his escape, he kept receiving data, like a fucking machine. “and to answer your question, yes, there is someone. Her name is…”

“Eh, no. Don’t tell me ok, just dial the number and I call.”

“Fine, do you have a phone with you?” The man huffed, as if Tony had greatly offended him with the question. “What? I don’t know if you’re one of those hipsters with technophobia.”

“First of all, I’m not a 90 year old grandpa, second, hipsters are not technophobic, they’re just pretentious little fuckers that try to fake they are and third, I am not a hipster.” Ticking each point with a finger.

“Coulda fooled me with the man bun you’re rocking. Also, hipsters tend to deny being hipsters so…” The man huffed again and stood from his crouch, exiting the bathroom with gun in tow.

“Are you gonna camp out in my shower?” Carried the man’s- and really, Tony need to find out his name- voice, with little trepidation, Tony made his way to the living-dinning room-kitchen and found the man unlocking his phone, his iPhone, Tony was honestly a bit insulted but refrained from commenting on the man’s lack of taste, at least it wasn’t HammerTech. “Here.”

Tony forced himself to take the phone, no time for his hang ups and without missing a beat he dialed Natasha’s number, the one only a select few had and he wasn’t supposed to be one of them, but whatever needs must and all that jazz. When the phone started ringing, Tony started feeling antsy and gave it back to the man, who was standing still as if awaiting orders. “Military?”

The man nodded. “Sergeant of the 107th, 3 tours.”

“What changed?” Tony asked, because for Rhodey it was becoming a liaison between SI and the Military. The man - Sergeant- opened his mouth to answer.

“Who is this and how did you get this number?” Ah, the murder vibes of the one and only Natasha Romanoff, it felt like a soothing balm. The Sergeant lifted his left arm to Tony in lieu of an answer, a prosthesis.

“Hello my name is James Barnes and I have a message on behalf of T…” The man, James Barnes, -Tony mustn’t forget, not like it was likely but just in case he made a mental note and felt a ping- cut himself off at Tony’s abortive gesture and widened his eyes in exasperated question.

“On behalf of?” Natasha’s tone promise loss of limb for James, who looked like he couldn’t afford any more. Tony thought about muting the phone and to his surprise the mute icon lit up, shit shit shit! “Hello?”

“Tell her, a man not recommended.”

James looked at him like he looked at Dum-E when the bot was being a deranged lunatic and sighed when Tony made shoo motions with his hands. Tony thought ‘unmute’ and James repeated his words.

“Come again?” There was a flurry of sound in Natasha’s background and Tony winced at the volume.

“I said, I’m calling on a man not recommended.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He ignored Tony’s vigorous head shake and carried on. “He is standing right in front of me. Looking a bit rough but all in all in one piece.”

“I’m coming over.”

That seem to shake James. “I haven’t even given you my address, ma'am.”

“Call me ‘ma'am’ one more time, I dare you. Also I don’t need you to tell me, I’ve got you pinned.”

“What the fuck?”

“I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

“Inconspicuous, Rushman. Tails.” Tony couldn’t help but warn.

There was a breath on the line that sounded to much like a relieved sigh, ok. Tony signaled James to hang up and he did. “What the fuck was that?”

“That, James, my friend is the very terrifying badass known as Natasha Romanoff.” Tony said with a smile, and James was staring. “What?”

“Don’t call me James. Bucky will do.” And What?

“What the hell is a Bucky?” Tony asked incredulous, hands on his hips. Clearly judging the other man.

James- Bucky- smirked and gestured himself with his hands. “I’m a Bucky, you’d be too if your name was James Buchannan, which lucky you is not.”

“Did your parents want you to get beaten up? ‘Cause that’s how you get beaten up.” Bucky rolled his eyes at Tony and made a show of pointing at the bathroom.

“Wanna take a shower before your girlfriend shows up?”

“Not my girlfriend. I’m single as a dollar bill on a college student’s pocket after paying tuition.” and because Tony needed to keep himself grounded until he reached home again, until Natasha came to take him home to Pepper and Rhodey and the ‘bots. Tony made a show, ok, not that much of a show because Bucky was hardly hard to look at. “How about you?”

“About the same. That meaning pathetically single.”

“Nothing wrong with singleness, Bucky. Seriously, Bucky? Couldn’t have been Jamie or something?”

“You want that shower or do you wanna mock my nickname some more, darling?” Bucky asked with so much sass, Tony was sure he was falling in love, no self-preservation whatsoever. “Come on, I’ll lend you a pair of sweatpants.”

“Well, well, well Mr. Barnes, that’s quite forward of you trying to get me naked and wet so quick, at least make me coffee first.”

Bucky cocked his hip against the breakfast bar and his eyes went at half-mast before his mouth curved into a sinful, honest to Newton’s Law of Gravity, sinful smile. “You got me, doll. I want you naked in my shower, wearing my clothes, smelling of my shampoo. Maybe if we get lucky I can mark you up all pretty before coffee is done and your friend gets here, whatcha think, Tony?”

Was he breathing? Was this the real life or had he died in captivity and found this really weird but rewarding in itself version of the talked about Paradise? ‘Cause that? That was too fucking hot and tempting for words and now he was just nodding like a fucking dumbass, that he’d attribute it to the very hot, very tempting mental picture Bucky had painted for him and now had blood redirecting south. “Um, yeah, I’d like that shower now.”

“Follow me.” Bucky said and swaggered in front of Tony.

He, gladly obliged.

this is a PSA

watch Mr. Robot, a new USA thriller about cybersecurity, evil megacorps and a secret underground superhacker vigilante group. It

  • has Rami Malek as young reclusive genius programmer
  • is “Dexter with IT and hacking meets Fight Club”
  • has a sick cyberpunky retro synth soundtrack
  • is fuckin phenomenal I’m not even halfway through the pilot yet and I’m silently losing my shit

Ep 1 up for free on Youtube

The TARDIS doesn't fizzle!
Ten, Donna

Okay, I just finished listening to Technophobia from the Tenth Doctor Adventures, and simply had to share the Doctor’s glorious interpretation of the wheezing, groaning sound of the TARDIS’ ancient engines…


David Tennant is returning as the Tenth Doctor alongside Catherine Tate as his companion Donna Noble in three Doctor Who Audio Dramas!

David Tennant portrayed the Doctor on screen from 2005 until 1 January 2010, returning to play alongside Matt Smith and John Hurt in the 50th Anniversary special The Day of the Doctor in 2013. Catherine Tate made her debut as Donna in December 2006, and after a series and two festive specials she made her last appearance alongside David on 1 January 2010. Their on-screen partnership is generally regarded as one of the great high-points of the enduring science fiction phenomenon.

The series opens with Doctor Who – The Tenth Doctor Adventures: Technophobia by Matt Fitton, which is set in a London slightly in the future, where mankind is gradually losing its ability to use everyday technology. Could there be an evil force at work?

In Doctor Who – The Tenth Doctor Adventures: Time Reaver by Jenny T Colgan the Doctor and Donna arrive on Calibris - ‘An entirely mechanical planet. Catch, hitch, fuel, fix, buy, pretty much any kind of transportation in existence.’ It’s also a world full of scoundrels, where a deadly black market has opened up in a device known only as the Time Reaver.

Finally, in Doctor Who – The Tenth Doctor Adventures: Death and the Queen by James Goss, Donna is swept along in a fairytale romance and meets the man of her dreams in the beautiful land of Goritania. What can possibly go wrong? And why has the Doctor never heard of Goritania?

Great news for any Tenth Doctor or Donna Noble fans out there! For more information and to find out where to pre-order, head on over to the Big Finish website