It was quite delightful to see my friend Alison at the other end of the Tunnel recently. It is quite a different experience to communicate with someone you actually know via the Telectroscope, rather than wave at strangers:
I now appreciate how the Londonist blogger felt when making contact with her brother:
"We’re both there at the agreed-upon time, and I jump when I see him. Though not life-size, he seems close by – as though through binoculars I’ve just spotted him on the banks of the Thames not far from where I stand. Except that that’s the Brooklyn Bridge behind him.
He waves. I wave. He waves again. I wave again. We stop and stare at each other. So I wave some more. We’ve been communicating in some form or another for 24 years, but this renders us ineffectual.
Unable to talk to him, I turn to the crowd of strangers on my end and do something I don’t usually do and in retrospect find deeply disturbing: I talk to them. “That’s my brother over there!” This elicits the appropriate “aw” I had been aiming for.
Now they too wave at him. I become aware that I’m talking (and probably gesticulating wildly) at the Telectroscope even though he can’t hear me. He’s shrugging at me and shaking his head. Finally, he pulls out his mobile and motions for me to call him. I do, and we have a good laugh about how ridiculous the whole thing felt."
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