probe3

...probe*

"Why don't I just go on, and explain it..." and soon I knew that the storage device which took electrical samples from the probe was kept in a fanny pack, with a wire running into one's ass. The "pack" would be worn for the 4 weeks, everywhere I went. I learned that the probe would be removed to defecate, and during sex, but that to leave it out too long would be noticed by the researchers, and I would be dropped from the study without pay.

It was such a stark option, totally unanticipated, and I quickly weighed the many pros and cons, my mind a hard and fast dogfight of conversing opinions: "You need the money." "Remove the probe for sex? No one would have sex with me if I wore a fanny pack." "This is clearly funded by the military... do I want to help them, even in this small way?" "And if someone did have sex with me, how would I explain the probe?" "What if I swapped with a friend?" All these reflections, and many more, echoed through my mind.

Not long before this I had been working in a steady job, creating software that measured people. I was part of a consulting firm that had been hired by a big retail client. We were prototyping software that would measure a customer's passage through space, how long they idled near the milk, and where their eyes looked. I had been in touch with many researchers doing similar tasks, and I knew that "Flight control tower" was usually a euphemism for a tank, or a helicopter crew. Cognitive scientists studying micro-gesture and body language through Defense grants often speak disproportionately about "flight control towers."

While technologies of measurement will always remain contested and problematic spheres, careful analysis of the debate has left me with one epiphany, one bit of added wisdom with which to view the world. Whenever I pass by a stranger wearing a fanny pack -- usually a network systems administrator, in fact -- I now think, "Anal probe, maybe."

Forward*

	"Why don't I just go on, and explain it..." and soon I knew that the storage device which took electrical samples from the probe was kept in a fanny pack, with a wire running into one's ass. The "pack" would be worn for the 4 weeks, everywhere I went. I learned that the probe would be removed to defecate, and during sex, but that to leave it out too long would be noticed by the researchers, and I would be dropped from the study without pay.
	It was such a stark option, totally unanticipated, and I quickly weighed the many pros and cons, my mind a hard and fast dogfight of conversing opinions: "You need the money." "Remove the probe for sex? No one would have sex with me if I wore a fanny pack." "This is clearly funded by the military... do I want to help them, even in this small way?" "And if someone did have sex with me, how would I explain the probe?" "What if I swapped with a friend?" All these reflections, and many more, echoed through my mind.
	Not long before this I had been working in a steady job, creating software that measured people. I was part of a consulting firm that had been hired by a big retail client. We were prototyping software that would measure a customer's passage through space, how long they idled near the milk, and where their eyes looked. I had been in touch with many researchers doing similar tasks, and I knew that "Flight control tower" was usually a euphemism for a tank, or a helicopter crew. Cognitive scientists studying micro-gesture and body language through Defense grants often speak disproportionately about "flight control towers."
	While technologies of measurement will always remain contested and problematic spheres, careful analysis of the debate has left me with one epiphany, one bit of added wisdom with which to view the world. Whenever I pass by a stranger wearing a fanny pack -- usually a network systems administrator, in fact -- I now think, "Anal probe, maybe." Forward*