Timelining

This week I saw two films and read one novel, and the one thing they had in common was that a main character was killed off towards the end of the plot – a device often used by writers wishing bring things to a convenient conclusion. Death, however, though it may bring an end to an episode, does not terminate the whole story (hence umpteen series of Game of Thrones or whatever). The ramifications of our actions are interwoven into others’ stories long after we are gone. Our short lives are mere episodes in a continuous drama and, if we cannot always relate these to past events, it may be because our memories fail us. However, there is now a handy device that overcomes memory-loss: the smartphone.

It was by chance that I discovered, in the menu of the Google Maps app, a feature called Timeline which, if you allow it, will track your movements. And it is very precise. It shows not only a map of your itinerary but also a list of times, routes travelled, mode of transport and places visited. Last Wednesday, for example, I walked from home for three minutes to Marsters Coffee Shop (there is even a photo of the place). My subsequent movements are similarly recorded in detail and, although I later went “missing in the Gay Village” for 15 minutes (of which I have no memory), I am nevertheless impressed by the technology. Had you asked me where I was and what I was doing last Wednesday at 15.23, I would have had no idea – but Google probably would.

Except that I have noticed an odd discrepancy: on Monday I was simultaneously at home and in Rochdale. It took me quite a while to work out how this was possible but, by a process of deduction, I fathomed it, eventually. I was indeed at home; it was my partner who went to Rochdale. The explanation is that we share a Google account (so that we can both access mutual contacts) and we are both signed into it on our phones. Our timelines, therefore, merge into one, despite there being two devices. All of which is perfect for the happy, devoted couple living mutually supportive lives, though not so for those at the opposite end of the relationship spectrum.

I am sure that some readers will regard this ability of Google to track our movements as a sinister – possibly evil – power, but you do not have to sign up for it: there are other options, such as asking strangers for directions, consulting out-dated paper maps, and using public telephone booths (I think they still exist). Otherwise, there are good things that can come from the confluence of technology and personal data. I have heard the argument for Google to make available ‘safe’ pedestrian routes, for example. This could be done by plotting a course, let’s say, that takes you to your destination avoiding streets that are poorly lit and/or unpopulated by other walkers. Admittedly, this service would require massive data input and computation but this is what they do. The real problems would be resolving the duality problem and persuading everyone to enable GPS on their devices.

There is another possible use for the technology: ‘Group Timelining’ could be employed by writers to experiment with the way they tell stories. Plots of extreme complexity could be auto-generated by persuading each person in the writers’ interactive circles of friends and relatives to sign into the same Google account on a phone that they are given. After carrying the phone constantly for a given period of time, the ‘characters’ can then decide when and where to turn it off, thus providing a ‘death’ for the writers to deal with and thereby preventing them from choosing a convenient conclusion. As in life, the story goes on.