Losing Sight, Seeing More

Quid ex Machina, Shorts One. Theme song by Blind Guardian.

This is one of the shorter, more personal and reflective essays in the series Quid ex Machina. The series examines the deep, under-explored, and Unseen impact of AI on humans and our societies. See here for the rest of the series.

Today’s theme song is The Bard’s Song by Blind Guardian. 

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A man may see how this world goes with no eyes.

(Shakespeare, King Lear)

This is the 23rd issue of Earthly Fortunes, and is brought to you by fountain pens, writing hands, and paper notebooks. So were the 21st and 22nd issues. I wrote –  in long-hand – every word, then corrected, proofed, and revised each letter and punctuation, then voice-transcribed final drafts to texts on screen.

It’s not a vanity display – I’m doing this out of necessity. My eyes felt so strained, that another second of staring into 3 million screen pixels might actually impair my vision for a good while. And to be honest, as I write, by the minute, my nose inches closer to the desk involuntarily, because I couldn’t see as clearly as I did anymore. 

The pen, paper notebook, and keyboard. Photo by author.

I want to preserve my vision, so I heeded those signs, and hatched a preemptive plan before an ophthalmologist becomes available. Here’s what I’ve done:

During waking hours, when not doing absolutely necessary tasks like hand-writing and grocery runs, I’d wear two layers of sleep masks over my eyes. This way, I don’t have to use my vision at all, and my eyeballs can relax.   

Ironically, by temporarily forgoing my eyesight, I’ve started seeing more. What had escaped my observation, is now all over the radar. 

For example, I had thought I knew where things are at my home, because I put them in their places. Lo and behold, it was not the case at all! Only after a week’s bump-ins and stumble-overs, did I finally put together a home map in my mind:

The fridge is five steps and a wide left turn away from my writing desk; the floor lamp is at ten o’clock of the footstool; the tea table reaches just under my knee cap, and props up against the back of the rocking chair; and if walking from the kitchen to the balcony, I should always steer to the left by a small angle, no matter my starting point– otherwise, a solid wall would greet my forehead. 

This home environment is a space I chose and made. Yet I had barely noticed how every item relates to each other — and to me — in this space. Only after I stopped physically seeing this tangible space, did I start to gain real insights into it.

I’ve also acquired deeper perceptions into something more abstract: accessibility technology. I configured screen-readers, talk-backs, and universal access for disability users, but never heavily used accessibility technology myself. So when I turned on screen-reader and bounce keys for my laptop and phone, I was unprepared: a world full of sounds and tactiles started rolling around me, unlike anything I’ve experienced on computers.
A neutral voice reads out loud all parts of an open window, a “Google logo” here, a “user setting, arrow” there; and each keystroke –  “space,” “comma,” “left R” – is announced too, at a solemn pace. All these sounds mingle into long declarations, and they help me find website logouts, or ascertain if I typed search queries right.
The supposedly American screen-reader garbled French and German pronunciations, but it has not hindered my productivity or leisure, even in the slightest.

Before this three-week-long run, my last encounter with accessibility technology was setting up universal access for Laura, my aging and legally blind neighbor, as COVID hit. Three years later, I was astounded by the technology’s improvement in precision, coverage, and responsiveness. Many more blind, deaf, and mobility impaired users can now experience the digital world as they could never in an earlier time.

Saint Lucy, by Francesco del Cossa (c. 1430 – c. 1477). Public Domain. Saint Lucy is patron saint of the blind.

But this kind of technology is rarely in the spotlight. It’s not the sexy kind of tech that swoons a major venture fund, or 10X a company’s market cap. 

But this type of technology is essential. It nurtures and cares for our fellow humans. It is the kind of technology that sets the foundation, and speaks of who we are as a society:

Technology should not be the pristine, purebred pet, locked up in a pretty castle for the fancies of a few, who already wield considerable power and fortune.  

Technology should be the gritty, fighting bulldogs that bust down barriers, bring opportunities to, and care for the less fortunate among us. 

It reminds me: in an almost prophetic tone, Shakespeare spoke through the already mad king Lear, that we may see the world without eyes. My voluntary experiment in forgoing vision proves the Bard true as ever. With accessibility technology, those without eyes can now indeed see how the world goes. Meanwhile, visual acuity is not equal to insight, and seeing – even just the small world around us – demands a lot more than moving eyeballs. 

May we all preserve our good physical vision and mental insight. May we all create and use technology to nurture and care for our fellow human beings. 

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Next Friday March 24th, the 24th issue of Earthly Fortunes will be a Special Edition, dedicated to the memory of a person who has greatly influenced me.

The Friday after next, the 25th issue will be an usual installment of Quid ex Machina, where we keep exploring AIs’ Unseen impact on society.   

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What’s your experience with accessibility technology? What are the impactful “unsexy” things now, that we don’t see? Let me know your thoughts in the comments, DM me on Twitter or Instagram, or just reply to the email!

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