I hear that Apple has apologized for the failures of the Maps program in its new i0S 6. I hear that this is not news, that, in fact, it happened almost a week ago, but I was wandering around on an ice floe somewhere in the North Sea, mistaking it for Brooklyn, and I’ve only just made it back. The penguins there were very friendly.
“Yes,” they said, “we realize that this is not our habitat, that, in fact, we are supposed to dwell at the South Pole, but this is what comes of trusting Apple Maps.”
Several camels nodded in agreement.
A passenger pigeon joined us on the floe. “You’re alive!” I exclaimed. The pigeon nodded (pigeons always appear to be nodding, but this one seemed to understand). It gestured to its new iPhone 5, and we all murmured sympathetically.
Amelia Earhart soon dropped in, along with Dorothy and Toto (“This is Kansas, yes?”) and a ghost ship whose crew explained that they were not, in fact, doomed to wander the Earth forever; they just had placed too much confidence in Apple Maps.
Perhaps it’s what we should expect from a company whose CEO shares his last name with an explorer who kept trying to sail the Bering Strait, growing irrational and forcing walrus meat on his comrades.
Maybe, in the long run, we will look back fondly on these days. They say that we are supposed to spend life pondering our place in the universe. I have done that, all right. Nothing like being given detailed, turn-by-turn directions to a place that does not exist to make you really ponder who you are and where you’re going. Mostly where you’re going. Where are you going? In fact, where are you? This isn’t Cleveland.
All who wander are not lost, they say. Unless they have Apple Maps. Then they’re just lost.