Autonomie

This is a very solipsistic little post. Solipsistic is how I feel, aware only of my own existence. What has brought this on is a) exhaustion from a sleepless night b) applying for jobs.
Applying for jobs in an online environment is a soul destroying experience. The reason for this is that it really does make you doubt if you have one.
This is how it goes. You see an advert for a position and you get struck right in. Out comes the pen and paper, the scribblings and crossings out. You curse at how tricky it is to explain who you are and what you're good at succinctly and attractively. After a long, often painful, time spent thinking about your life and how to glue to bits together in writing so that they don't resemble a car crash, you submit it via email. Ten seconds later you get an automatic reply. One saying that your application has been safely received but that due to the high volume of interest the employer will only be able to contact candidates who have been successful. And that's it. All you'll hear on the subject is an automatic response. After all the decent human emotion you've put in, an automated response is all you receive. Repeat this one sided exchange of emotions often enough, and you wonder if there is another living being in this world of automatons.
Which is why I've coined the word 'autonomie' today. It is a blend of 'anomie', that feeling of dissociation from society brought about by the rise of the metropolis, and 'automaton'.
Automaton's were the wonder of earlier days, self-powered machines that worked as if by magic, seeming to have a life of their own.
Nowadays, automaton's are everywhere and have lost their charm. Especially, I find, online. Automatic responses, spam, online games, Amazon recommendations, and the ilk. They all exhibit the essentially features of the automatons: a semblance of autonomous life where there is none.
In the short term, 'Autonomie' is probably only going to be a problem  for people (and I'm one of them) who dislike social media sites for the same reason they generally dislike social gatherings; 'Bah! Company!'. So instead we slope off round the fringes of the internet interacting with the demonic host of automatons that live there.
For example, I acquired as part of my job a Moshi Monster avatar. He's called Collin and I'm very fond of him. However, since I don't want to end up on a list I obviously don't let Collin talk to any of the other Moshi Monsters. So it's just him me, the minigames and those incredibly annoying Moshlings. I may look back on my life and weep at this, I may not. For now I enjoy it. But ultimately it is not a healthy relationship to rely on. I will, eventually get the feeling that no matter how much I invest in it, Collin is not giving me anything very real in return.
The cold feeling of 'autonomie' that the automatic responses created will come. How far will it reach?