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About a week ago, I called in sick to work. It was Christmas Eve, I was scheduled to open at 7am, but I cried uncle after three increasingly-difficult days of fighting the flu, and washed down a Sominex with Nyquil. I awoke at 10:30 that morning in silk pajamas, warm flannel sheets, with a purring cat and snow falling in the windows. I had everything I needed on the nightstand: apple juice, hot tea maker, Kleenex, phone, iPad, and remote controls ... so I was set. I restacked the pillows, brewed a cup of tea, then browsed On Demand until I found the perfect binge watch: the original three Star Wars films. John Williams' orchestra filled my bedroom as I filled a tissue with what looked like taun taun guts. Despite the snot (and disapproving looks from my cat), the Sunday turned out to the best ... sick day ... ever.
I've often joked that the Star Wars movies are the original software that came with my imagination. I know the films backwards and forwards, and I still have - and add to - my 1970s/80s era sci fi toy collection, proudly on display in my home. For a lonely kid growing up in 1970s Illinois, the world of Star Wars was the perfect place to escape in my head, and clearly marked the beginning of an imagination that's lasted a lifetime. In addition to the obvious - Star Wars is fucking cool - I loved the "pageantry" of the first three films, with grand sets, grander ships, and grandiose civilizations thriving on far off worlds. Everything in Star Wars is "big," like technology made things larger, not smaller. No one uses iPhones or compact tablet computers, and the electronics on the Death Star - as sizable as IBM mainframes - fill entire rooms with buttons, lights, and levers the size of rat traps. Machines are huge, with relays and pipes, miles of wire, cable, and conduit, and enough forged metal to reconstruct Isaac Asimov's Tranitor, with scraps left over to hammer out a couple dinette sets. Even the robots are big and bulky, with a few rolling around on tires. When Han Solo rescues Luke on Hoth (at the start of The Empire Strikes Back), he pulls out a "portable" radio to communicate with the local rebel base. The radio is ridiculously large, with silver antennas that resemble rabbit ears.
Chuckling ... its nice that that science of the future has allowed us space travel, but it's still a little heavy on vacuum tubes.
I've often joked that the Star Wars movies are the original software that came with my imagination. I know the films backwards and forwards, and I still have - and add to - my 1970s/80s era sci fi toy collection, proudly on display in my home. For a lonely kid growing up in 1970s Illinois, the world of Star Wars was the perfect place to escape in my head, and clearly marked the beginning of an imagination that's lasted a lifetime. In addition to the obvious - Star Wars is fucking cool - I loved the "pageantry" of the first three films, with grand sets, grander ships, and grandiose civilizations thriving on far off worlds. Everything in Star Wars is "big," like technology made things larger, not smaller. No one uses iPhones or compact tablet computers, and the electronics on the Death Star - as sizable as IBM mainframes - fill entire rooms with buttons, lights, and levers the size of rat traps. Machines are huge, with relays and pipes, miles of wire, cable, and conduit, and enough forged metal to reconstruct Isaac Asimov's Tranitor, with scraps left over to hammer out a couple dinette sets. Even the robots are big and bulky, with a few rolling around on tires. When Han Solo rescues Luke on Hoth (at the start of The Empire Strikes Back), he pulls out a "portable" radio to communicate with the local rebel base. The radio is ridiculously large, with silver antennas that resemble rabbit ears.
Chuckling ... its nice that that science of the future has allowed us space travel, but it's still a little heavy on vacuum tubes.
Back on Earth, one of the biggest technology stories of 2017 involved the emergence of driverless cars. It's clear these vehicles are almost here; every major auto manufacturer has been testing autonomous prototypes for years, with pretty decent results. It's hard to imagine cars as a whole are nearing the end of gas-powered engines, after over a century. But V-8's are almost exclusively reserved for trucks now, with V-6's becoming a high-end luxury for passenger vehicles, and V-4's the standard for everything else. It's predicted that gas-only engines will be gone within a decade, with hybrids the norm as technology improves and prices go down. I recently saw an episode of Black Mirror, where the female lead drove a 65' Thunderbird through the American southwest. She stopped at a gas station, but rather than filling the tank, she "recharged" the engine with a solar device (as it had been retrofitted to run on electricity). I've actually often thought about that - what happens to all the Chevys, Buicks, and Fords currently on the road? When I'm finally able to start collecting cars myself, I have a list of 70s/80s Cadillacs I want to purchase (from the days when the original Star Wars was new), but if cars go electric, where will I find gas to power the old ones? I can't imagine rolling up in an 80' Eldorado with an engine that doesn't make a sound.
It's also hard to imagine "trusting" a driverless car to safely navigate a highway. "What if the car gets hacked?" I think. "Hell, what if EVERY car gets hacked?" I've previously written about how dependent we've become on technology, and how I genuinely believe the next big 9-11 style attack will involve an EMP, or a cyber strike that temporarily disables the flow of goods/services. I received an iWatch for Christmas this year, and it took three separate trips to the Apple store to make it pair with my phone. Our technology is good, but it's definitely not infallible, and I fear that when I finally RELAX in a driverless car, the network's gonna fail and turn the Eisenhower into high-speed bumper cars. Hopefully, the driverless ambulances will run on a different server. Hopefully, my iPhone will find my iWatch after my arm is ripped from my torso on impact, and thrown - watch and all - onto the pavement 40 yards from my vehicle's burning wreckage. Sigh ... at least I'll complete my exercise circle for that day.
It's also hard to imagine "trusting" a driverless car to safely navigate a highway. "What if the car gets hacked?" I think. "Hell, what if EVERY car gets hacked?" I've previously written about how dependent we've become on technology, and how I genuinely believe the next big 9-11 style attack will involve an EMP, or a cyber strike that temporarily disables the flow of goods/services. I received an iWatch for Christmas this year, and it took three separate trips to the Apple store to make it pair with my phone. Our technology is good, but it's definitely not infallible, and I fear that when I finally RELAX in a driverless car, the network's gonna fail and turn the Eisenhower into high-speed bumper cars. Hopefully, the driverless ambulances will run on a different server. Hopefully, my iPhone will find my iWatch after my arm is ripped from my torso on impact, and thrown - watch and all - onto the pavement 40 yards from my vehicle's burning wreckage. Sigh ... at least I'll complete my exercise circle for that day.
I guess that's why I like the original Star Wars films so much, forty years after their release. They portray a world of technology that hasn't been absorbed by technology; people still eat, drink, fight, and laugh ... all while kicking their robots, in the same way we hit our TV's growing up. Star Wars is a universe of interplanetary travel that's completely void of Facebook, Recon, and Twitter. It's a place of big machines, big robots, and big ships ... and you'll never see a "FlexFuel" insignia on the Millennium Falcon's hyper drive. I always see a movie over the holidays, and I opted for The Disaster Artist last night, rather than the The Last Jedi. It's nice that Disney retooled the series for a modern audience, but nothing will ever top seeing A New Hope in a Springfield Illinois drive in, in 1977 ... watching from the back seat of a 76' Coupe DeVille.
Good memories, and a great way to end 2017.
Good memories, and a great way to end 2017.