Today I was woken up by the synthesised voice of the standard Borg hail. I found it strangely comforting to awake to the reassuring message of a highly developed alien race: We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile. I wasn’t drinking absinth last night, but I did set the friendly Borg greeting as my ringtone.
I’ve been fascinated with the Borg a lot recently. The epiphanic moment happened when I was teaching class and accidentally stepped in the beam of the overhead projector. Immediately I felt like I was being assimilated by the Borg and was having my eye implant mounted. I mentioned this to the students as a humorous distraction, sadly, they had no knowledge even of the existence of Star Trek. I found that deeply saddening. So I decided I should keep more in touch with the popular culture that formed my youth.
As to who had the lack of sense to call me on a Saturday morning at half past nine, it was my landlord. He had no adequate excuse. There was no fire, no earthquake and no Borg vessels anywhere near. He wanted to check what I thought of his summary invoice issued after one year of rent to settle the difference between deposit payments and actual usage of energies and the like. I had my thoughts about the bill, but I deemed them inappropriate to share because I’d hate to offend. I assured the landlord that the invoice had been paid. He wished me a good night. I think it was him who was drinking absinth last night.