As time passes, and these devices become cheaper and more accessible, this is a scene with which we will all be familiar. On the surface, it seems like a boon: it's like a Polaroid, but one never has to buy film. When one does not have to lay down ten bucks or so for a dozen pictures, one does not have to be particularly frugal. Digital cameras also eliminate the middleman-the scanner-in digitizing photos. Lets take a closer look at Mr. Swank and his camera, and see how the mere presence of this marvel of technology changes the dynamic in the room. But first, lets back up an hour or two, because what is really weird about this whole scene is that the guy who just walked in wasn't the first to bring such a camera!

I was sitting on the couch, mingling with the others whom I had not. An acquaintance was scrutinizing something with his friend at the other end of the couch. It turned out to be a digital camera. The man, lets call him "Pecker" (of John Waters fame), shows me an image of myself on the screen. At this point, though, everything is cool. There's nothing-creepy going on. But lets go just a bit deeper: Mr. Swank arrives as the party and the room, is heating up. Lotsa people. Now is when the true greasiness causes the whole room to sparkle and glisten. These two guys know each other. They are shooting little knowing glances at each other, as they snap dozens of pictures of these partygoers, some of whom they know, some they don't. Soon, many of the people in the room are sucking up to these cameras, and by extension their operators. And really, who can blame them? Young ladies are lubricated with alcohol and weed, as is everyone else. They pose, and then look at the screen to see their images instantly reproduced, effects added to them, etc. There is a powerful fascination and novelty to these real-time reproductions, and they can be quite seductive.

Meanwhile, someone has brought my friends a housewarming gift: inflatable furniture. As there is a shortage of seating, a friend and I volunteer to blow them up. Playful, non-malicious homosexual innuendos are now flying at us from various corners of the room, and the Voyeurs are right there, on top of it all. I asked them if they were going to put our images up on their web sites. (After all, if they've come this far into the digital age, an address on the Information SuperDriveway is a given, right?) They both chuckled, and exchanged again that little smirky glance. Now, perhaps I am too serious here, but I found myself pondering on the implications of all of this. I am sure that five years from now, Pecker and Mr. Swank will answer my question with a combination of chicklet-keystrokes, instantly and wirelessly uploading their harvest to the web. "Just did, pal!" they'll say. What? You don't think someone out there will someday manufacture a Palmtop Celphone/GPS/Camera Audio-Video Player? We can be sure that these aspects of High Technology, as with any human endeavor, will bring out the best in some of us, and the worst in others.

Some take "amateur porn" movies of themselves, others, like myself, are content with showing pictures of our children, unfolding our digital wallets with pride. One thing is clear, though: when Casio Wrist Cameras come free in specially marked packages of Frosted Flakes, the Rodney Kings of tomorrow will have powerful allies. Perhaps it will be a good thing, for Little Brother to learn and master the tricks of Big Brother's stock-in-trade. Oh, but the side effects! Then again, there is the serious voyeur side to all of this. I was just looking for some outside material to use for this article, and google.com gave me a link to a site with a peeping tom's view of ladies changing clothes, undressing, etc. No faces blurred, no consideration about the "subject" at all. It made COPS look like it had a measure of respect. Imagine being that person, and finding yourself "caught on tape" in this way. And I thought I was being exploited.

But all this speculation doesn't answer my real question: Are those pictures of me really on the web now? Maybe I am flattering myself, and the other partygoers a little too much by suggesting that we were that interesting. But honestly, if you can take 36 pictures in a matter of moments, and upload them to your computer and turn around and do it again with the same cartridge, how interesting do we have to be? Simple economics tells us that, with any product, be it cars, dollars, or pictures from a party, the more there is, the less its worth. I can only hope that with the amazing power of these machines, these guys have much more interesting pictures to publish than a couple of drunk guys blowing up furniture on a Saturday night.

Whatever happens, though, I saw a few people really sell themselves short that night, vying to be reproduced in this manner. There was a slight air of competition in the room, a murmuring combination of suspicion and longing, sometimes coming from the same person. A few people seemed genuinely uncomfortable with the dynamic of party a-la-digital Polaroid. It was hopeful to see some other people thinking about where this is all leading. What the digital cameras in action showed was nothing more than the true colors of the wielders. For some reason "True Colors" by Cindi Lauper got into my head that night. I thought maybe it was because Kodak appropriated the song for use in their marketing agenda, kinda like Mr. Swank and Pecker here. But I am sure of this: as these gadgets come into their own, we will see many more disembodied Kodak moments of all stripes floating around out there, as ones and zeroes in the Rorschach blotter of cyberspace.