In 1985 when Ender’s Game was first published the world was a different place. We were each locked into the confines of our own skulls, our thoughts entirely our own, our opinions and ideas shared only with the closest of our friends, our self-expression circumscribed.
Imagine that you can’t connect to Google+, or Facebook, or Twitter for four weeks. How would you feel? For someone who gets jittery when I lose my connection for a couple of hours I have no idea how I would feel. Certainly, if I unplugged for four weeks I imagine I’d feel the way most people would if they took a month off work and then came back in the office: a mixture of stupid and obsolete.
Tragedies have a way of magnifying everything. The very best and the very worst of us has surfaced during times of extreme need and extreme emotion and the Boston bombing was no exception.
