‘Hello?! Is anyone there?’ How iPads made me a ghost in my own house

How I have encountered a new type of exclusion, with iPads and headphones taking over my own house.

Apple iPads have become a staple

As I traverse middle age, there are times when I feel I might be disappearing.

Last week at the shops, I swear it took three attempts to get the automatic doors to open for me. It’s mildly annoying when I’m out, but it’s worse at home, and frankly, downright creepy. How can I cease to exist in my own home?

It can happen on any given day. I’ll become aware that the house has been quiet (as Batman used to say, a bit TOO quiet). I’ll walk through the hallway, into the kitchen, but there’s no one there. I yell out to my two daughters, but there’s no answer. Then I shout to my wife, only to get silence in return.

My dog never comes when I call, but I give her a nudge with my foot, just to be sure, and I’m a bit relieved when she growls at me and slinks off to the deck. OK, so if I am a ghost, at least the animals can sense me.

“Where is everyone?” I say to myself. They were here this morning. I wasn’t aware of any plans to go out.

I go to the garage and find both cars are still there. I check the security camera recordings, and there’s no record of anyone leaving the house. I walk out to the front footpath and look up and down the street, but there’s no sign.

Going back inside to the lower level of the house, I start yelling a bit more frantically.

“Hello!?” I plead.

“Is anyone there?!”

I’m really yelling now, and I’m sure the neighbours can hear me, but they don’t answer either (not that they should, that might be weird).

I am beginning to think I’ve entered an episode of the Twilight Zone (or Black Mirror for those born after 1998). It’s a bit like that movie Vanilla Sky where Tom Cruise goes to Times Square and there’s not another soul around. What would Tom do?

“HELLOOOOOOO!” I holler through the house.

Silence.

I walk to the rear of the house, searching for my family, and just as my anxiety peaks, I spot some movement in the back of the rumpus room.

“HELLO!” I yell at my daughter as she stuffs popcorn into her mouth, but there’s no reply.

Is she possessed? Is she under a spell?

Kind of.

She’s watching her iPad. In her ears are those tiny white earbuds, rendering her deaf to all but the soundtrack of her favourite YouTube channel.

Next to her sprawled on the rug, is her older sister with another iPad, and some large headphones hiding her ears. She’s transfixed on the screen, with a disturbing, maniacal grin on her face. She scratches at the bowl of popcorn for a fistful, without looking away from the device.

Channel 7's Max Futcher. Pics Tara Croser.

“Hello!” I demand, and still get no reply.

Then I hear some rustling in the backyard.

I walk out into the sunshine to find my wife, hanging out the washing on the clothesline. I notice that she’s multi-tasking. As she pegs shirts and socks to the line, her gaze is on her iPad perched on the washing basket. She also has those white earbuds blocking out all noise except the latest Netflix series she’s bingeing without me.

“Hello!”

Apple iPads have become a staple.

Still nothing. Whatever she’s watching is so compelling, it demands her complete attention. She smiles at the screen and tries to peg a T-shirt to the line without looking. She misses and the peg falls to the ground, but she doesn’t seem to mind. All that matters is the screen. I’m a bit jealous that I’m missing something so intriguing.

“Hello?” I plead quietly, but she is lost.

I give up and trudge back to the kitchen. The dog growls as I pass, just so I know I exist, and I resume my place as the resident ghost, rendered mute by tiny white headphones.

Unseen.

Unheard.

Haunting my own home.