Yes, nothing makes one reach for the danger-sensitive sunglasses faster than a lecture from an overly enthusiastic science wonk, or futurologist, or terrorizer of the ignorant, or however he categorizes himself. To illustrate where he's coming from: he starts out by saying how in prehistoric times humans lived in "Hunter/Killer" groups. Evidently, in prehistoric times humans survived on pure protein and we've devolved a bit since then.
Our future holds exciting things: computer education for everyone, viruses that circumvent our immune systems and kill everything or leave people completely incapacitated, robots that are smarter than we are, dreaming computers, nanotube repairs to spinal cord injuries, nanotech leaving us covered in gray goo, frankenfoods, plowing the Sahara to grow plastic-generating plants, salt-water irrigation, computer viruses, machines replacing migrant agricultural workers, human genome manipulation, and various other treats. Supposedly nanotubes will make our cars incredibly strong and light so they'll be more fuel efficient and we can go anywhere, except that we'll all be telecommuting to the jobs that don't exist anymore.
The Q&A session afterwards is interesting, to say the least. Most of the questions are along the lines of "So, is {insert horrifying future scenario here} really likely?" or "How far along is that {machine takeover of the world} in reality?"
One man stands up and says, "I don't have a question, only a comment, like. I'd like to ask everyone to say a prayer that some of this doesn't happen, because I'd like to be able to raise up my kids."
The next question after that is my personal favorite. "So how long until I can have everything I want and not have to do anything?"
The answer is, of course, never, but the speaker dithers around with a vague estimate of decades.
"But this is all like Revelations. Like the end of days. Is it?" one kid asks, shell-shocked.
This kid hasn't read the Revelation of St. John, he's just been preached at about it. I heave an exasperated sigh and draw a dirty look from a girl in the next row. I'm sitting in the back because we got here late, as usual, and glad to be as far from the speaker as I can be. Equally absorbed in the proceedings, the kid sitting beside me is folding his lecture leaflet into pointy, multi-coned shapes.
The speaker dodges this one. "I do science and economics. I don't do metaphysics. That's a question to discuss over a glass of beer"—this kid is clearly not of age—"or whatever with your friends."
The lecture has left Amp&Effects mildly irate. (We're all highly introverted here. We do everything mildly.) He sputters all the way back to the lab. "That just got people all upset. That was mean. He's just trying to frighten people to sell his speeches. All of that is so far off and he makes it sound like it's tomorrow."
I agree, "Yes, that was a lot of information to dump on people all at once. If you've been following science news for years, you have more perspective on it. For the past ten years, they've been saying 'in the next ten years we'll have such-and-such' and they're still saying it today. And things don't always develop the way these wonks predict."
"And, like how robots are going to make everything, but then how will people earn money to buy all that stuff. And nanotechnology that can solve all our problems or kill everyone—" he goes on.
"Yeah, I was thinking 'Man, we've all read The Diamond Age,'" I say.
"The what?"
"It's…a book. Anyway, most of what he talked about, the ideas about the dystopian future resulting these technologies, has been fodder for cyberpunk authors for years," I explain. Or try to.
"Cyberpunk?" Amp&Effects laughs. He's never heard the word before.
"You need to read more."
641 words | June 29, 2004 07:52 PM | Rocket science