Is this stealing ?

Callair A9A

 
I am aware that more than a few people who read my blog.
May think I have a strange outlook on life and they may very well be right.
A short while ago I wrote a blog about DNA and what it may or not, end up being used for.
It was for me a good subject, but an never ending story.





Well the other day I picked up on a story, where  genetic Scientists are gathering DNA samples from the streets and analysing them, Cigarette, tissues, old cloths,and  glasses, that sort of thing, call it detritus from the street if you will.

But from these samples! there is a chance that they may be able to create a facial reconstruction! based on the analysis of the DNA,
that scientist have recovered from their collecting of street rubbish.

The mind boggles to think! you could be recognised from a piece of paper or cigarette end?
As  Genetic surveillance really swings into gear, even a picture of you, with a fine for littering! could surface ? how do you like those apples?

Commercial testing clinics will spring up all over the place and will test any object with a human DNA sample on it, for a unimaginable amount of things, as long as you can pay.

The company you work for would most certainly expect your DNA profile to be a part of your employment agreement.

You could in secret?  be able to take a sample and have it tested to check if your partner has been unfaithful?
Even have a paternity test?
Or test if you or your partner are  Genetically susceptibility to serious disease.
The permutations are endless for the human race.

Of course there are new laws being made all over the world to try and take some sort of control over this technology!
I say; Good luck with that.
This genetic material being gathered up in the streets has no names attached, to get permission! from for it's use, of their DNA?
A problem for the law.

In my humble opinion, I say! by the time the law catches up with this run away technology! and that's assuming it wants too, most of our entire genome sequence will have been gathered without our knowledge.
I think it goes without saying that the positives in this, far outweigh the negatives, but it still leaves a taste in my mouth and really its comes down to trust. Can we really trust them?

Now for my Question:

Now I consider myself a collector of unsigned notes, poems, terms of endearment, all left in books,  love notes and all many of inscriptions and rhymes, when I delve into my collection they give me great joy to read, make me feel very sad at times, allowing me an insight into their world an other time, believing I'm doing no harm.

I used to collect them by going to second hand book shops, looking and searching through the books. But now it's all changed technology!
"the mobile phone" has made me a wringing phone addict.
It doesn't matter where I am?
Now if I hear the sound of a mobile, I turn and look and my mind records the start and the finish of the call and the expression on their faces.
I see the opening smile, the brightness in their eyes, that is there, as soon as the person realises who's on the line, then the wringing off, the deep breath taken with deep never ending knowing personal  smile.
I think of it as the promise of what's to come, which stays long after the phone is put away.
There are so many different types of permutations to these calls,
not all are personal.
But you do see the person as they really are, they have no reason to hide their feelings, as they believe nobody is looking at them.

Leaves me wondering what was said to create such a response.
I collect them as memories and place them in my diary with my other collection and I remember the moment!
I am  reminded and pleased how we humans can be so personally loving towards each other, and that's what I enjoy to see.

So here we go to the moment of true:

Am I stealing these memories and thoughts? is it wrong? should the memories of these thoughts, be lost forever?
Should I stop? Am I an anonymous spy filling my own needs.


Perhaps thunder is the sound of god slapping his head in disbelief.

Agman.