My daughter bought her first Tamagotchi about five weeks ago.

For those not in the know, a little history lesson may be in order: The Tamagotchi was an extension of the virtual pet and reached its apparent height of popularity some six to eight years ago.

Now in its second generation, the Tamagotchi is back, but things have changed for the digital dynamo, thanks to advances in technology.

This is not your older sister's Tamagotchi.

The Tamagotchi, like other, more complex carbon-based species, requires nurturing. In order for it to grow up hearty and hale, you must feed it, play with it, and clean up its poop. It can connect with other Tama-gotchis, and make friends, get married and even have kids.

I've been slow to embrace the cyber cutie; I've never been a digital man. While most of my friends were exploring the magic of DOS years ago, I was still hunting-and-pecking on an old IBM Selectric typewriter. I was the last of the analog kids.

Twenty years later, I spend my days sitting in front of a computer screen, writing papers, typing messages, playing video poker and even e-mailing the occasional newspaper column. Times have changed.

I know technology can make life easier. I'm just not sure that easier is better.

Maybe it was the Ray Bradbury books I read as a child that made me suspicious of the role technology plays in our daily lives.

It seems that we spend more time talking to our friends in cyberspace than we do our neighbors.

We take pictures with our phones and send them to family members with the brief but revealing message: "Wish you were here." And I do ... wish they were here, that is.

Bad enough that a silly virtual pet may be a corporate training device for the video game industry — like cigarettes being the gateway drug for harder, more lethal substances — but now they're replacing friends and family. At least that's what I thought, until last Friday.

My daughter was sitting in the library after school when a kid she had never met asked her about her Tamagotchi. They talked story for a while, and then synced up their little critters. While their virtual pets played and had fun, my daughter made a new friend.

I realized then that while technology can be a barrier, it could also be a bridge.

I used to believe that technology was driving us apart, facilitating communication, but not intimacy; maybe I was wrong. Maybe technology is a desperate attempt to stay connected in a world that has no need for intimacy, only productivity.

I still don't trust technology, I am afraid of its power. But I have more faith that the human spirit will prevail.

I saw magic happen between two young girls in a library of hope.

Michael DeMattos is on faculty at the University of Hawai'i School of Social Work. He lives in Kane'ohe with his wife, daughter and two dogs.