Coming from a guy who works on a PC magazine, the following is going to sound weird, perhaps even bordering on heresy, but please bear with me.

On the train home from work this evening I shared a sparsely-populated carriage with about seven other people. This is nothing particularly unusual -- I take the train to and from work each day, sometimes crammed in sardine-style, sometimes cruising solo -- but tonight I noticed something.

Let me count the ways. Person One was playing a game on her mobile phone. Person Two was tapping his way through appointments on his PDA. Persons Three and Four were shuffling through their iPod playlists and bopping along to their invisible music. Person Five was concentrating on beating level whatever on his DS. Person Six was thumbing out an SMS on her too-small-to-really-be-practical mobile. Person Seven was... actually, I forget what Person Seven was doing, but by then the point had been made: we've become a society of technohermits.

These people were all heads-down in their gizmo of choice, shunning the presence of others as they tapped, clicked or mashed away on the device in front of them. Their poses were so similar and their actions so uniform, you'd almost think they'd planned it in advance.

Seven strangers, united by their segregation. Acting as one by acting alone. Seven strangers, full of their unique stories and experiences, but letting their gadgets keep them to themselves.

I can certainly understand the need for one to zone out in their own little world at the end of a long day, or to wile away the otherwise boring time on the train, but this... I dunno, for whatever reason, this was something else. Save for the creaking metal of the train, the silence was deafening. I almost wanted to stand up and say "Hey, come on, talk to each other! Say stuff!" But as I clicked the Next Track button on my Zen MP3 player, I realised that I was no better.

For all the wonderful things technology has enabled us to do, it comes with its own set of dangers -- namely, it lets us become too comfortable. While it's given us faster and easier ways to perform tasks that a couple of decades ago took longer and required more effort, it's let us become not only too complacent, but too self-involved. Between you and your recipient, or between you and you, lies your tech. Outside of that, it doesn't matter. It's your digital screen door for reality.

Why go and visit someone when we can just write on their Facebook wall? Why talk to your receptionist about rescheduling your ten o'clock when you can just flag it on your Outlook calendar? Why bother using those silly vocal cords when an SMS or e-mail will do?

Short of adopting an Amish lifestyle, it's impossible to escape, but it is possible to manage. Last year a US company made each Friday "No E-Mail Day" (PDF), forbidding any of its employees to communicate via internal e-mail and forcing them to make those otherwise type-and-send requests in person, face to face. In today's more-work-right-now society, that's one hell of a bold move, but it's that same society that provoked it. And out of the office it's something else, with everyone wrapped in their little digital bubbles. Letting the lives of others pass by, one button click at a time.

Technology has made it easier to keep in touch with friends, but it's made it harder to get to know strangers.

Then again, I know where I stand. I don't expect tomorrow's train to be full of smiling people who are suddenly everyone's best friend, and I certainly don't want to become that annoying git who asks strangers what their favourite childhood TV show was (Captain Planet) or the name of their first pet (a budgie named Ozzie). But come on... would it hurt to put down the doodad and just experience a few minutes of life?

This weekend I'm going to go out, and I'm going to leave my mobile phone and MP3 player at home. Maybe I'll do some window shopping, or perhaps I'll sit in Sydney's Botanic Gardens. Whatever I end up doing, I'm not going to let any extraneous bits of plastic and circuitry dilute it.

I hear it's going to be a nice day.