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{Mashable 20 October} ‘AWS outage update: What happened today and why’
Perhaps the body politic hath been something more than rash in permitting a slender coterie of vast corporations to hold dominion over near the whole compass of human commerce—and to consign it all to ‘the cloud’. If an entire infrastructure collapses at the faintest tremor, of what practical worth is that infrastructure? And why does no redundancy—of any worth, at least—exist to sustain it? From the internet to the power grid, from energy production to the extraction of the earth’s finite resources, few of us truly grasp the fragility of our modern age, or how fearfully we have enthralled ourselves to the artificers of Silicon Valley. Verily, we are become their vassals—SLAVES at the mercy of our technological overlords.
These incessant glitches fray my nerves and leave me in a state of abject vexation—and of late, there hath been no paucity of such afflictions in my own affairs. I shall not recount the full litany of woes, yet it suffices to note that my grocery delivery—through Amazon Fresh—was abruptly cancelled this very morning amid their latest systemic collapse. Then, in attempting to activate a new debit card with a different institution—yet one of the countless enterprises now beholden to Amazon Web Services, alongside such disparate entities as McDonald’s, Venmo, and innumerable others encompassing nearly every conceivable sphere—I found myself stymied by yet another glitch, and obliged once more to telephone some remote call centre in India to have the matter rectified.
It is without end—until, at last, the entire fabric of society doth crumble utterly, and whatever remnant of humanity survives is cast back into the dim estate of the cave-dweller. This technological grotesquerie hath insinuated itself into the sinews of daily existence, sowing silent chaos in the lives of billions. And this most recent outage—still not wholly resolved as I write—is but a fire drill, the ominous prelude to a coming conflagration that shall devour the whole edifice.
Do I, then, harbour hope for that collapse? I cannot with certainty avouch it. For I was an unwanted soul upon this planet long before the rise of the tech barons in the 2000s and 2010s; unwanted I remain beneath their cold dominion; and it shall matter little whether I be wanted once they—and the brittle edifice of their devising—have dragged the sum of civilisation into the abyss. For I shall not endure to behold the final ruin. Then again, judging by the precipitous haste of our present decay, that reckoning may well descend upon us before next Thursday—and I may not be so fortunate as to miss the ensuing ghastly revels. Such would be my luck. —Arthur Newhook, 20 October 2025.
Copyright 2025, Arthur Newhook.
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