The Machine Stops

I was fascinated by the short story The Machine Stops. I have always enjoyed Science Fiction/Fantasy but this story was amazing because of when it was written. I would have thought it to be contemporary SF. It was also really depressing. There was no quality of life. People did not leave their room----they barely even left their chairs. No family ties, no face-to-face socialing, little sensory enjoyment, no ambition, no recreation as we know it.....nothing real except what you could get virturally from the chair, in your room, all alone. This is not living, this is just existing. I do realize the woman was content with this. She had her lectures and her contacts but she also had such fears of the outside, which wasn't even outside but inside. There was little to no emotional ties with her son, who, bless him, tried to make a better life for himself and even tried to include his mother, but her world (her life) had just become too small.

As the machine began to fail and the world as they knew it became smaller and less comfortable, the people just accepted it. They made calls and complaints, but nothing was ever fixed or improved. The people changed their outlooks and their lives to fit their world as it became less and less and less. They did not communicate with each other. They did not try to escape. They did nothing but sit there and let the time pass until the machine finally stopped and the world ended for them. How depressing!!

I grew up in a big, rambling house outside of town. As my brother, two sisters, and I grew up and moved away, we always returned to the big house for family get-togethers. After my dad passed away, Mother stayed in the big house, but she lived in 'less' of it. She closed off some of the rooms not being used. As her health began to fail, she once again lived in 'less' of her house--she moved her bedroom into the den. By the end of her life she was living in barely three rooms of her big, rambling house. She rarely left her three rooms unless it was for a visit to a doctor. This was not from want of us trying to get her out. She would rarely leave her comfort zone. We brought everything she needed or wanted to her. So I can see how people can give up all independence and live on the whims of others. But I sure don't understand it. I do not foresee a world such as was in the story or a world such as the one chosen by my mother.