»Sie sind bei Facebook?«, fragte Max ungläubig. Er hatte Äpfel gepflückt und sie in seinem Hemd gesammelt. »Ja, was denn? Nur weil das wie Klopfzeichen im Knast ist?« Der alte Olson kicherte. »Klar mache ich da mit. Wie soll ich sonst kapieren, was mit der Menschheit passiert? Warum sich der Lynchmob vom Dorfplatz auf einmal weltweit zusammenrotten kann.« »Äh. Tja. Okay«, sagte Max. »Ich schick Ihnen dann mal eine Kontaktanfrage.« »Tu das, mein Sohn. Ich bin immer am letzten Freitag des Monats im Internet, zwischen elf und fünfzehn Uhr.«
Schlagwort: Internet
740 hours of freedom.
Especially if they could.
Ich hoffe dass keine Generation sich jemals ins gemachte Netz setzen wird.
$vocab--;
“Don’t you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought? In the end we shall make thoughtcrime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it. Every concept that can ever be needed, will be expressed by exactly one word, with its meaning rigidly defined and all its subsidiary meanings rubbed out and forgotten. Already, in the Eleventh Edition, we’re not far from that point. But the process will still be continuing long after you and I are dead. Every year fewer and fewer words, and the range of consciousness always a little smaller. Even now, of course, there’s no reason or excuse for committing thoughtcrime. It’s merely a question of self-discipline, reality-control. But in the end there won’t be any need even for that. The Revolution will be complete when the language is perfect. Newspeak is Ingsoc and Ingsoc is Newspeak,” he added with a sort of mystical satisfaction. “Has it ever occurred to you, Winston, that by the year 2050, at the very latest, not a single human being will be alive who could understand such a conversation as we are having now?”
Ournet.
To begin with, we want everything.
In your facts.
It is one thing to google a person before you meet them.
It is another to rub what you found in their face.