Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey
There was a time when that thing we called "the future" was a bright and shiny thing, full of hope and optimism. It was a place where all problems had been solved and there were no new ones to confound and confuse. In the future, everything would only get better. It was a wondrous place, this future.
When I was very young, my father subscribed to several magazines, two of which always fascinated me. Popular Science and Popular Mechanics were publications where the marvels of that time were written about. New inventions, examples of the most advanced technology in everyday use. I remember one article about a house that was designed aerodynamically and could swing around a pivot, thus always facing the wind. Intended for life where hurricanes were frequent, this was a dwelling that would survive even the most powerful gusts. There were articles about experimental cars, designs that echoed the national obsession of the space race, things guaranteed to fire the imagination of a pre-teen boy.
Several times a year, there would be a article, previewed on the cover, that described the future -- not the far distant future, but one far nearer, tantalizingly close. One article predicted that by 1975, we would all be flying helicopters from our homes to wherever we needed to go. Another one suggested that by 1980, people would be living on the moon. One article talked about the homes in colonies that would be built on Mars, certainly by 1995. I read where at some point in time, we would all be wearing computers on our wrists, machines of incredible power and almost magical properties that would allow us to access any information we needed. And by the way, a device with which we could communicate with each other. With video.
Most predictions were quaintly fanciful, some startlingly prescient. But for me, it was a moment when the veil was drawn aside and I was allowed to dream.
In 1968, Stanley Kubrick brought to the silver screen the movie version of a 1948 novel by Arthur C. Clarke. The film, entitled "2001: A Space Odyssey" was an amazing accomplishment from a technical standpoint. Space travel and the challenges associated with it were portrayed in an amazingly accurate way. Produced before men walked on the moon, it captured the lunar surface as if we had already been there. There were other things seen, such as a device that would foretell the notebook computer, a computer powered by artificial intelligence, places beneath the surface of the moon where people lived and worked. In orbit above the earth, a massive wagon-wheel shaped space station spun majestically around its axis, providing nearly normal earth gravity on it's massive rings. Inside, one could find restaurants, phone booths, and a Hilton Hotel, all serviced by twice-weekly Pan Am rocket liners. Viewed from the prehistoric late 1960's, it was a world in which I was sure I would live.
Over the intervening 33 years, I watched that dream unravel. On what was one of the saddest days of my life, a beautiful September morning, instead of a magnificent space station, I watched two mighty towers collapse in a cloud of dust and smoke. The world I had so hoped would find its unity in the promise of the future instead had turned to hate.
I'm not going to point fingers here -- there's more than enough blame on both sides for our current situation. But I find sadness in the way that we as a human race have deliberately chosen self-destruction over the alternative.
Still, there's still enough around to amaze and confound. The telephone fundamentally changed the way people live. Now, we can't imagine going anywhere without that device on our belt or in our pocket that retrieves information, connects us to love ones, both audibly and video. Being a writer, I am fascinated that my device has the capacity to store the equivalent of 75 million printed pages. If I'm bored, I can access my Kindle account and read any of the 200-odd books that are stored there. I also have 173 full-length high def movies I can download to my device, 23 of which are already stored there. I can watch news, sports, cooking shows...whatever. Yes, there are some things about the 21st century that are amazing.
But it's what is done with those tools that has changed us.
With an axe, you could build a house. Or take a life. With a cell phone or a computer, you can educate and entertain. Or you could tell the most vile lies, destroy lives and reputations. Create divisions, fan hatred.
I guess, in a way, I've given up on the future. Whatever technological wonders are invented will be used by us to destroy each other, not suddenly like a bomb, but more slowly; insidiously. Like tree rot. Is this the future I wanted? No. But this is the future that has been chosen, one that leads inevitably to our eventual destruction.
And if this is the best we can do with what we have, then maybe extinction should be our just fate.
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