I started calling my older step-daughter “Seven” a few months ago.

In the Star Trek universe, Seven-of-Nine (called Seven by her crewmates on the starship Voyager), was a human who was assimilated by a race of cyborgs and spent most of her life connected to them through cybernetic implants. I picture my kid with a cell phone on one ear and an I-Pod in the other while holding a digital camera to take a picture of herself, or maybe a video of her declaring: “Actual human contact is irrelevant. Resistance is futile.”

What I wouldn’t give to unplug all the gadgets, hide the batteries and try to engage her in an honest-to-goodness, face-to-face conversation.

But then I remember.

I remember my first home computer, and the hours I’d spend on it trying my hand at programming (I was no darned good). I remember handheld football games from Coleco. I remember video games that left me glued to the TV set seemingly for days at a time, with occasional breaks for food and such. Oh sure, I balanced it by cracking open my books to do my homework. But the point is the same. And when I started talking to my high school friends on the phone, it did seem for a while that I was spending an awful lot of time doing it.

Maybe the kid’s reliance on gizmos catches my attention because I didn’t see her phase into it one gadget at a time. Maybe I’m right to sound the alarm that over-reliance on these things is a tad anti-social and, occasionally, a little more than annoying. Maybe I am, as they say, pointing three fingers at myself whenever I point a finger at the kid for doing pretty much the same thing I did at her age.

Or maybe it’s not such a big deal after all.

Maybe resistance really is futile.