Ah, the Trojan War! The epic clash between the Greeks and the city of Troy, immortalised by none other than our bardic friend Homer. This ten-year titanic tussle gave us tales of bravery, cunning, and divine intervention, all wrapped up in an ancient package of bronze armour and wooden horses. But let’s press fast forward on the Trojan timeline and ask: what if smartphones were a thing back then? Could this have been the first time a text message went viral, or selfies became instruments of diplomacy?
The Social Network of Sparta
Picture this: a toga-clad Menelaus sitting under an olive tree, scrolling through his smartphone. "What’s Helle-na-ing on Instagram?" That’s right, our lovestruck Prince Paris spots Helen’s selfies and, captivated by her beauty, hits slide into her DMs. The legendary "abduction" of Helen could very well have been an innocent holiday snap gone awry, leading to countless misunderstandings and Menelaus throw his mobile into the Aegean sea in a fit of Wi-Fi-fuelled rage.
Meanwhile, the Greeks could have bypassed many a Greek tragedy if they had a group chat: "Odysseus, bring a large wooden equestrian construct," might have cropped up in a series of lost plans. Imagining Agamemnon, Ajax, Achilles, and the rest of the gang gloomily typing away: "Who's bringing the ambrosia for tomorrow’s strategy meet? Nemesis needs our pin location!"
Hector vs. Achilles: Fight Night Alert!
In a world where status updates and notifications reign supreme, the clash between Hector and Achilles would likely have been the headline event streamed live with an audience count higher than the Battle of the Bastards. With drones capturing every dramatic moment, we could expect instant replays, and battle spot commentary rivaling that of any sports channel.
#AchillesHeel would be trending on every social platform faster than you could say, "patroklos_pals", a step towards viral fame that Achilles probably wouldn’t have envisioned during his sulks in his tent.
Dodge, Parry, Swipe Right?
The mighty Trojan Horse incident might have been foiled by some well-timed alerts: "Horse with a suspiciously spacious interior trending nearby!" The Greeks, seeing this blow up on Trojutube, might have had a rethink, perhaps resorting to the less subtle tactic of trying to use Hell's Kitchen app, luring Troy out for some much-needed culinary revolution. "Have you seen what the Greeks are cooking outside?" might have encouraged many a Trojan to leave a 5-star review (and their city gate open).
The Olive Branch: Virtual Style
Using encryption as convoluted as the Gordian Knot, Trojan and Greek diplomats could have held virtual peace talks via carefully demystified text chains and Zoom meetings. "Mute your mic, Hector! We can see your sword collection!" With AI-generated translations, miscommunications between languages (or gods) might have been glossed over, lending an olive branch to a war that, at least for ten long years, remained decidedly branchless.
Helen could have hosted a live Q&A session, clarifying that she really just wanted Paris’s tips on Mykonos nightlife. Her expressions of agency and autonomy echoed through her slightly pixelated webcam, influencing attendees from both camps.
A Selfie’s Worth a Thousand Words
The infamous Trojan Horse, a sneaky masterpiece of subterfuge, would have had its very own Snapchat story, complete with puppy dog filters and location tags. And what about the faces of our gallant warriors? One can only imagine the digital art renditions that might have exceeded even the finest marble busts.
A #BringHelenHomeCampaign could have spread far and wide, perhaps resulting in the first instance of crowd-funded ransom, powered entirely, of course, by Ethereum and TrojanCoin.
Sure, in our imaginings, this clash of ancient titans hasn’t so much been a war, but a chaotic conference call, interspersed with nation-wide memeification. Yet, while one could argue whether the end result, a big wooden ruse, would have changed, we suspect at the very least, Agamemnon’s roaming charges would have been quite the Trojan Epic.
