Wednesday 11 December 2024 in 2024

Okay, so let’s talk drones. The mysterious ones buzzing over New Jersey. Apparently, they’re the size of a car, and nobody knows where they’re from or what they want. Classic modern-day conundrum: something fascinating happens, and we instantly assume the worst. Secret military project? Corporate espionage? Alien reconnaissance?

If it’s aliens, I’m genuinely disappointed in them. They’ve travelled light-years only to hover around in New Jersey, probably scoping out shopping centers and debating the merits of bagels versus pizza. Surely there’s a better use of their time.

And if it isn’t aliens—well, it just feels so ominously human, doesn’t it? We invented drones for practical things like mapping land or capturing wedding footage, and here they are sowing paranoia. It’s the technological equivalent of a nosy neighbour who doesn’t even pretend to water their plants anymore.

Still, it got me thinking: maybe I’ve underestimated the beauty of not knowing everything. We’re so used to life being instantly explainable—everything at our fingertips, answers in seconds. The mystery of these drones feels oddly comforting in a way. No hashtags, no Google searches. Just a moment of suspended disbelief, where we’re all collectively looking up at the sky and shrugging.

I imagine if I were a drone, my purpose would be much more straightforward: reconnaissance on bakery queues, maybe, or a low-altitude sweep of other people’s Christmas lights. Nothing sinister. Just quiet, harmless curiosity.

If these drones show up in London tonight, I think we should go outside with flashlights and write “HI” in Morse code. Or maybe just “WHY?” That feels more appropriate for both them and us.

V