I see technology as being an extension of the human body.

Hear the words of David Cronenberg, the visionary who peers into the dark and luminous edges of human invention: “I see technology as being an extension of the human body.” This is no idle speculation, but a truth carved into the very story of mankind. For since the dawn of time, humanity has sought to push beyond its own limits—not by abandoning the body, but by stretching it outward, giving it new limbs, new senses, new powers. Every tool, every device, every creation of human hands is but a continuation of the flesh and spirit, extending what nature gave into realms that nature alone could not reach.

When Cronenberg speaks of technology as an extension, he reminds us that the hammer is an extension of the fist, the spear an extension of the arm, the wheel an extension of the foot. The telescope extends the eye to the heavens, and the radio extends the voice across continents. Each new invention is not alien to us, but a mirror of our own design—our hunger to see farther, move faster, speak louder, live longer. In this light, technology is not separate from humanity; it is humanity, externalized, shaped into matter and energy.

This truth is written into history. Consider the moment when Johannes Gutenberg gave the world the printing press. Before his invention, the human voice was bound to the limits of memory and manuscript, fragile and slow. With the press, the body of humanity extended its tongue across nations and its memory across centuries. Ideas once confined to monasteries flowed outward like rivers, fueling revolutions of thought and faith. In this, we see Cronenberg’s wisdom: technology is not merely metal and ink, but the stretching of human capacity into immortal reach.

Yet there is also a warning hidden in this vision. For every extension of the body also reshapes the body itself. The spear makes the arm stronger, but it also makes the heart more willing to kill. The internet extends the mind’s reach, but it also tempts the soul to forget stillness. The prosthetic limb empowers, but it also reminds us of what was lost. In this way, technology does not only extend us—it transforms us. We become creatures of our tools, as they become creatures of us. The bond is inseparable, for the tool shapes the hand even as the hand shapes the tool.

Cronenberg’s words emerge from his art, which often explores the fusion of flesh and machine, the blurring of human and technological. Yet his insight belongs to all. For even now, we see the truth of his statement in the rise of smartphones, prosthetics, medical implants, and virtual realities. The body reaches outward through glass and wire, until our very sense of self stretches beyond skin. Technology is no longer merely a helper—it has become our second body, a reflection of what we dream to be, and sometimes a distortion of what we are.

The meaning, then, is both glorious and sobering. To see technology as the extension of the human body is to recognize both its power and its peril. It can magnify our strengths—our creativity, our compassion, our wisdom. But it can also magnify our weaknesses—our greed, our violence, our fear. Thus the question is not whether technology is human, but which parts of our humanity it will extend. Will it be the hand that heals, or the hand that destroys?

The lesson is clear: we must approach technology not as something foreign, but as something intimate, born of our own flesh and spirit. Since it is an extension of us, we must shape it with care, with morality, with foresight. If we poison it with cruelty, it will poison us in return. But if we infuse it with compassion, it will carry compassion farther than our bodies ever could.

Practical action follows: before embracing any tool, ask what part of your humanity it extends. Does it bring you closer to others, or isolate you? Does it strengthen your virtues, or indulge your vices? Treat technology as you would treat your own body—with reverence, with discipline, and with wisdom. For Cronenberg’s words remind us that technology is not apart from us—it is us, carried forward. And so, O listener, remember this eternal truth: if you wish to ennoble technology, you must first ennoble the human spirit, for the machine will always carry the shape of its maker.