AirPods foster a different approach to detachment: Rather than mute the surrounding world altogether, they visually signal the wearer’s choice to perpetually relegate the immediate environment to the background. ​ AirPods, then, express a more complete embrace of our simultaneous existence in physical and digital space, taking for granted that we’re frequently splitting our mental energy between the two. ​ AirPods have externalities — penalizing non-wearers while confining the value they generate to their individual users. ​ Once everyone has earbuds that are always in, physical proximity will no longer confer a social expectation of shared experience. ​ subordinate our in-person sociality to the privatized infrastructure of networked communication ​ Now, the kind of space that suffices instead is a pleasant backdrop for solitary device usage, a relatively blank slate that doesn’t compete with the phone’s foreground — conditions that places like Sweetgreen and Equinox supply. ​ A dominant aural information platform could have a similar effect, fostering a world where we might as well leave our headphones on because there’s nothing around us worth hearing.

Being willing to ignore the weird appearance of AirPods makes a statement: if you’re okay with overlooking how strange-looking they are, then you must be somewhat proud to be wearing them. ​ Commodities like AirPods are social products. AirPods display the social message of wealth because AirPods derive their value from the invisible, social chain of production that’s necessary to make them in the first place. Thus, AirPods strategically glue together an ecosystem of luxury products. They are only so “convenient” because, by eliminating the headphone jack, Apple made the iPhone less user-friendly. ​ AirPods are disposable products that are also impossible to throw away. ​ On a global scale, our economic system is predicated on a disregard for longevity, because it’s more profitable for companies to make products that die than it is to make products that last. ​ They’re physical manifestations of a global economic system that allows some people to buy and easily lose $160 headphones, and leaves other people at risk of death to produce those products. If AirPods are anything, they’re future fossils of capitalism.

“More of us are moving through very public spaces in our own bubbles, only removing them when it’s time to explicitly connect with another human.”

“I could see an audio directory showing the status of who has their airpods in and who doesn’t, and a low level audio notification exposing the name of any friend that’s asking to pop into your Airpods. Kind of like a Waze alert notification.”

With about a minute to go, I opened up my AirPods, ensured they were connected to my iPhone, woke Erin up, and handed her one. She popped in the left, me the right, and we were able to share New Year’s together. We did so silently, with Declan sleeping between us, none the wiser. ​ I’ll forget AirPods one day. I won’t forget the opening of 2017. With my little family, all huddled in one hotel room bed, celebrating together, each in our own little way.