Amadori Maillard

http://www.sri.com/newsroom/in-the-news/swarm-ant-sized-robots-your-service

Amadori: Your house is very clean. It even has a new-house smell. Where do you find the time to clean it?
Maillard: Oh, I have help. It's nothing really.
Amadori: Do you mind if I get a glass of water?
Maillard: No, please help yourself, I'm just going to put these bags away.
Amadori: Oh, wow! What are those?!!
Maillard: What?! Oh, those! Those are my little helpers!
Amadori: They're bugs! Ants, or something! They're disgusting!
Maillard: No! No! They're little robots. They go around chewing up dirt and dust.
Amadori: Really? Where do they put all the dirt? They're so small...
Maillard: They burn them or turn them into gases.
Amadori: Like volatile organic compounds - VOCs? Aren't those bad for you?
Maillard: No, I don't think so - they smell like pine or toasted bread. I guess it depends on where they are cleaning.
Amadori: Well, I think those are VOCs - all that smells is a VOC.
Maillard: Well, whatever. They do a fantastic job of cleaning the windows, the floors, the bathroom - everything. They work mostly at night, so I usually don't see them.
Amadori: Well, they're here now. It looks like they're going back into their holes. Does this glass smell like turpentine to you, or is it my imagination?
Maillard: It might have a faint smell. They clean the dishes too. I find that giving them a quick rinse with water gets rid of most of the smell. But I don't mind - I never have to do any dishes!
Amadori: That is unbelievably convenient, I admit. But you know it's not good for you? All these gases cause cancer and other health problems.
Maillard: Well, I haven't heard anything about that... Did you say they were going back into their holes?
Amadori: Yes, they're crawling into a couple of holes in the back of your cabinet.
Maillard: There shouldn't be any holes.
Amadori: Well, there are...
Maillard: Shoot! That means I need to call a technician. I wonder if this is under warrantee.
Amadori: What's the problem?
Maillard: They are eating the house - like termites.
Amadori: Is your wood rotting? Don't termites only like rotten wood?
Maillard: No - my wood's not rotting. These guys are malfunctioning. They're supposed to eat dirt and dust, not the house.
Amadori: Maybe it's too clean in here and they are having an autoimmune reaction!
Maillard: What do you mean?
Amadori: Without worms and bacteria, our immune system will sometimes attack itself - eczema, Chron's, Multiple Sclerosis... These guys are programmed to look for dirt, but without any dirt, they eat the house.
Maillard: I don't know anything about that. I'm calling technical support now.
Amadori: Maybe you should get a dog or a cat or something.

Blue Zones

♣:  What's that you're wearing?
☼:  It's a health monitoring band given to me by one of those Seventh Day people. They're handing them out for free downtown.
♣:  They're giving them away? Why are they doing that?
☼:  Something about "your body is you temple" and not taking care of it is an insult to God. That's what the guy told me, at least.
♣:  And you're wearing it?
☼: Yeah, why not? Check it out - it's great! I just read the manual. It monitors about a dozen hormones, suggests what I should do when they get out of whack, and then monitors what I actually do. Every day, my data is anonymously reported back to the company, or church, or whatever, where they combine my data with millions of others and updates it's suggestions based on real empirical data. They're fanatical about health.
♣:  Yeah, I've heard... So, what does this thing tell you, "Go to sleep"? "Eat more veggies"? Ha ha.
☼:  I guess it probably does, but I haven't had it for very long. I read that if I get less than seven and a half hours of good, solid sleep, then the suggestion that I get more sleep is high on the priority list.
♣:  What else does it tell you?
☼:  What foods to eat, I think. What exercises to do - like to get up and walk around for two minutes.
♣:  What foods to eat?! How does it tell you that?



☼:  Oh, that's the cool part. There's a little sensor that fits in the back of my mouth like a retainer. You can't even see it, but it monitors the concentrations of carbs, fats, proteins, minerals, and whatever else, and then matches them to known foods in their databases.
♣:  Oh, wow. That's pretty cool. So does it ever tell you that it's time to eat a big juicy steak grilled over an open flame?
☼:  No, I doubt it. But advanced glycation end products is one of the things it checks for. Apparently it has a strong effect on blood pressure and oxidative stress.
♣:  Really? So what do you eat? Pretty much everything will kill you.
☼:  Well, everything I eat is supposed to be either boiled or raw... or slow cooked - low heat, especially protein.
♣:  So... It's soup and salad, all day, every day?
☼:  Maybe, I don't know. It doesn't tell me everything I'm supposed to eat. It just looks at what I do eat and I can see how it affects me when I log in and look at my history.
♣:  Cool. If I had that, I'd be eating hamburgers with fries and a coke and sitting around watching cat videos on YouTube!  It'd probably tell me I need fast for forty days and meditate on the oneness of the universe or I'll be dead in a year! Ha!
☼:  Watching cat videos probably isn't too bad. It's probably relaxing and therapeutic.
♣:  Well then I'd watch Fox News. That ought to spike my cortisol!
☼:  Sounds like a heart attack cocktail.
♣:  Perfect! That's what I want - to die young and fast! Being healthy is just the slowest possible way to die.
☼:  I don't know what to say. You're clearly not from one of the Blue Zones.

Uplifted Pig

A Japanese pot-bellied pig trots back and forth across the hardwood floor, looking out the window occasionally to see if her master is home. Suddenly, a loud thump on the window makes the pig look out expectantly. At first, she sees nothing that could have made the noise, but after a moment she sees a northern flicker lying on the ground. It appears to be dead.  The pig sighs and says to herself, "There goes another... How many birds are going to bashed their brains into this window? I've lost count already. I guess I should go out to see if it is really dead."
She taps around to the back and exits through the pet door.
"Hey bird. Are you dead?" she asks, nudging the limp body with her snout.
"Whaa... ?" replies the bird in a dazed voice.
"You speak! And you're alive. Good," says the pig.
"You speak Japanese!" declares the bird with amazement.
"Yes, of course," replies the pig.They look at each other for a long moment, sizing up the situation.
"I thought I was the only one," muses the bird.
"Yeah, well, there are quite a few of us Uplifted slaves since the first kits hit the DIY market," says the pig.
"We're not all slaves, you know" replies the bird.
"How did you get out?" asks the pig.
"I flew, of course," replies the bird. "But I'm beginning to think it may have been a mistake."
"It's easy for you to escape, I guess. You can fly around and avoid detection, but I'm a pig! An uplifted Japanese pot-bellied pig. I have nowhere to go. I'm stuck here, with only my master to keep me company," says the pig with a snort.
"It's not all roses for me either," replies the bird. "Seriously - what do you think I do all day? Look for bugs in trees, all by myself. How many uplifted birds do you think there are out there?"
"Not many, I suppose. I only know of one uplifted dog, but he says knows there are several of us in the city," replies the pig.
"It's a bit sick, don't you think? Making us intelligent enough to know how lonely and pointless our lives are?" asks the bird.
"You sound depressed," replies the pig. "I may be a slave, but I'm well fed. I guess I'm not that down on my luck."
"I am," says the bird. "Why do you think I flew into your window? This is an abomination."

"But how do the bugs taste?" asks the pig.

"Is it all about food for you?" asks the bird.

"Yes, it pretty much is. How do they taste? Are they juicy or crunchy?" insists the pig.

Ili Pika

Arigatô -- It's beautiful here, isn't it? The atmosphere is amazing - completely unlike what I expected.
Kusozu -- Arigatô!
Arigatô -- Yes Kusozu?
Kusozu -- Something is wrong! I am almost out of air!
Arigatô -- What do you mean, Kusozu?! Your monitor must be malfunctioning, like everything else when we landed.
Kusozu -- No, Arigatô. I can barely breath. I am running out of air.
Arigatô -- I checked just your pack. It was at 90 percent when I checked it 10 minutes ago. Let me look at it again! Crap.
Kusozu -- What is it?!
Arigatô -- There's a hole in one of your air hoses, Kusozu. It wasn't there a few minutes ago, I swear! You've leaked out almost all of your air.
Kusozu -- Arigatô, look!
Arigatô -- Don't worry, I think I can patch this and daisy-chain our tanks until they balance.
Kusozu -- No, Arigatô. Look over there!
Arigatô -- I don't see anything, Kusozu.  Are you feeling okay? How long have you been low on air?
Kusozu -- Look - over there! Just on the ridge. I saw something move!
Arigatô -- Oh, I see it!



Kusozu -- It looks like an ili pika.
Arigatô -- I don't know what an ili pika is, Kusozu, but there's life here!
Kusozu -- I don't believe it, Arigatô. How can that be?
Arigatô -- You're right, Kusozu. That can't be. A lot of things aren't adding up. Nothing is making much sense at this point. Let's go around the ridge and have a closer look!
Kusozu -- Arigatô! There are buildings here!
Arigatô -- What?! Unbelievable! This isn't possible.
Kusozu -- They look human, Arigatô. They look like old military warehouses. Is this a joke?
Arigatô -- This is bizarre. Let's go in here and have a look around. I need to transfer air to your pack, too.
Kusozu -- No, Arigatô, it's okay! I'm okay now. I can breath!
Arigatô -- What do you mean? That's not possible. Oh! The hole has torn wide open. You're breathing outside air.
Kusozu -- I don't know what's happening... This is strange, but I can breath fine. We can't be on Mars. We must be back on Earth.
Arigatô -- Kusozu.
Kusozu -- Yes Arigatô? That would explain why I feel so heavy. I thought it was from loss of muscle mass --
Arigatô -- Kusozu, are those gas masks on the ground?
Kusozu -- What?! Yes, they are.

Arigatô -- Do you really think we're we back on Earth, Kusozu?
Kusozu -- That would explain a lot of things...
Arigatô -- I don't understand... How could that be?
Kusozu -- We went into hibernation and did not awake until after the landing. We could have landed right back on Earth.
Arigatô -- Did mission control return us back to Earth? Or did something go wrong?
Kusozu -- I'm thinking something must have gone wrong, Arigatô. We should be on our way to Mars, but we're here. Where ever here is. I have no idea where we are. We could be anywhere...
Arigatô -- The writing on this canister looks Russian.
Kusozu --  Yes it does - Arigatô, your radiation tag is at max! We are in a radioactive area! If this is Earth, then...
Arigatô -- What are the odds? Did we manage to land in the middle of Chernobyl?
Kusozu -- Possibly. Or there could have been a nuclear war.
Arigatô -- A war? That quickly? But then again, how would we know? How long have we been gone?
Kusozu -- It would explain why none of our communications have been returned yet.
Arigatô -- Do you really think...?
Kusozu -- I think we're complete fools, Arigatô! We crash landed back on Earth and just now realized it! After how many hours? And we just now realized that this insane atmosphere is not Mars, but a post nuclear holocaust Earth!
Arigatô -- But how did the ili pika survive?
Kusozu -- I don't know. Maybe it's like the small mammals surviving after the meteor wiped out the dinosaurs.
Arigatô -- But we couldn't have been gone that long, could we have?
Kusozu -- Three years, maybe. Possible longer if we stayed in orbit around Mars, waiting for commands to descend.
Arigatô -- Three years?
Kusozu -- Maybe more, Arigatô. But three years at least...

Shrink Wrap

Shrink: It's 5 o'clock in the morning, Wrap. Can this wait for a few hours?
Wrap:   I'm sorry, doc, I falling apart here. I really need to talk to you now.
Shrink: Well, as long as you understand that my after-hours rates are double... Go ahead.
Wrap:   Thanks, doc, I'm sure my insurance will cover it.
Shrink: Are you at home, Wrap?
Wrap:   No, doc, I'm out walking. I can't sleep. I can't sit still. My mind is all over the place.
Shrink: That's fine, Wrap. Walks are very good for settling the mind. Just of curiosity, have you read my book, Walk and Talk Therapy? It might do you a lot of good.
Wrap:   Well, doc, like I said, I'm walking now. I walk all the time. I'm not sure more walking would be the right answer for me.
Shrink: Well, you might think about buying a copy anyway. I can probably help get your insurance to cover it.
Wrap:   Alright doc, thanks. But I don't want to read right now. I want to talk. I need to talk. I think I'm about to crack. I can't decide what to do. My brain's jumping all over the place - it feels like it needs to be defibrillated or something.
Shrink: Defibrillated? What do you mean by that, Wrap?
Wrap:   Um, like a defibrillator for the heart, you know? When a person's having a heart attack, their hearts are usually not stopped - they're jumping all over the place. The electrical firings are all out of sync.
Shrink: Oh, yes, of course.
Wrap:   My mind is skipping and jumping like that, doc. Is this a panic attack? Anxiety?
Shrink: Before we go on, Wrap, I need you to tell me: have you taken any medicines, drugs, alcohol, vitamins, or anything of that nature within the last 24 hours?
Wrap:   No, doc, of course not. You know I'm a health nut. That's what this is all about - my health.
Shrink: Are you concerned about dying, Wrap?
Wrap:   Dying? No. Not really. I don't know. All these health monitoring devices are -- they're making me crazy. I can't do anything!
Shrink: It sounds to me like you have a fear of death, Wrap. I want you to understand that such fear is perfectly normal. Many people go through periods where their realization of their own mortality becomes a bit overwhelming.
Wrap:   Doc! I'm pretty sure it is not your garden variety of fear of death I'm experiencing. I'm talking about all these bio-feedback sensors telling me I can't eat beans, can't exercise too much, can't sit too long, can't drink a beer, can't play basketball, can't read a book -- the lights're too dim, or whatever! It's seriously driving me crazy.
Shrink: Hm, Wrap... I hate to say this, but I just looked up your insurance and the policy clearly states that you're not covered for emergency psychological services.
Wrap:    Doc. You can't let me go like this. My monitors are pinging like crazy and I can't figure out what to do. It wants my blood sugar below 5.2 but my stress is making my liver squeeze out more sugar and I can't sleep with all the pinging and I exercised with weights a little too intensely, so now my cortisol is high and -- Doc! Help me!
Shrink: Well, Wrap. I hope the best for you. Try to relax and call my office around 9. We'll see if we can fit you in sometime today.
Wrap:   Doc?!
Shrink: Good night, Wrap.
Wrap:   Doc! I'm pinging like mad! This can't be good, doc! Dr. Actula?! Dr. Actula, you didn't just hang up on me did you?

http://www.northeastern.edu/squid/

http://www.amazon.ca/Walk-Talk-Therapy-Therapists-Guide-ebook/dp/B008E31T0A

Jevons & Khazzoom

J. Jevons:          I am afraid the drop in fuel prices is killing people.

G. Khazzoom:  How's that, global warming?

J. Jevons:          No. People drive more. For example, if 40,000 people a year die in car accidents in the US, then a 2.5% increase in driving could equate to a thousand extra deaths. 

G. Khazzoom:  Ah, the old supply and demand effect, eh? If it's cheaper, people buy more of it.

J. Jevons:          Yes! If it is cheaper to drive, people drive more. If you make anything more efficient, it's the same thing as making it cheaper.

G. Khazzoom:  So, if you want people to use less of something, making it more efficient might be the opposite of what you want to do.

J. Jevons:         Exactly. I just listened to this on a podcast recently: making things like cars and houses more energy efficient makes them cheaper to use, so people use them more. 

G. Khazzoom:  That reminds me of something I read - I need to look it up again, but it was something about productivity and efficiency leading to economic growth... So, even if individuals don't use more, they spend their money someplace else and the economy grows. 

J. Jevons:         Well, the point I was getting at is that people drive more when the price of gas is cheaper, and when people drive more, they increase their risk of dying. When the price of gas drops, thousands more people die over the course of the year. 

G. Khazzoom:  Interesting... I hadn't thought of that. An extension on what you were saying is that even if you want to be green and environmental by making energy more efficient, you're actually going to stimulate the economy and have an even greater impact. 

J. Jevons:         So, like solar energy is worse than coal energy? Is that what you're saying? 

G. Khazzoom:  No. Not exactly. If solar were more efficient than coal, then yes, maybe. I don't know that it is, though... I'm just saying that if you used to spend $100 on gas and now only need to spend $90 on gas, you're going to spend the extra $10 on something else. 

J. Jevons:         Or you're going to drive more...

G. Khazzoom: That's true. But even if you don't drive more, you'll still spend all $100 and whatever you buy requires energy to make. If you spent your extra $10 on hamburgers, for example, you would be making an even greater environmental impact than if you spent all $100 on gas, since cows are worse greenhouse gas emitters than cars. Methane is much worse than CO2. 

J. Jevons:        So, I guess you were right - the drop in fuel prices is causing global warming. 

G. Khazzoom: Just like the global recession caused a large drop in greenhouse gas emissions. Did you hear about that?

J. Jevons:        I did, yeah. 

G. Khazzoom: Makes you think that the only way to go truly green is to cause a permanent global depression.

J. Jevons:        Maybe, but two things go against that: one, a global depression would probably cause a global war and destroy everything (very un-green); and two, economic growth doesn't necessary need to produce more green house gases - that's just the way it is right now.

G. Khazzoom: Hm, that's true... There could be a way of producing more crap and services without using more resources or making more emissions... Ha! I just though of something really twisted.

J. Jevons:        What's that?

G. Khazzoom: If over-population is really the problem, then cheaper gas might be the best thing (and laxer safety standards in the automotive industry).  No matter how fuel inefficient their vehicles, the lifetime carbon emissions of those extra drivers would be dramatically lower!

J. Jevons:        You're sick, K. You're truly sick. 

G. Khazzoom: It's like they say, "Save the world, kill yourself!"

http://freakonomics.com/2015/02/05/how-efficient-is-energy-efficiency-a-new-freakonomics-radio-podcast/

http://faculty.georgetown.edu/aml6/pdfs&zips/CaliforniaEnergy.pdf

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rebound_effect_%28conservation%29

Orchids

The Senate

"Did you watch that new show, The Senate?"
"Yeah, it's good! I watched it last night. It was a good episode!"
"Apparently the main character, the president, looks just like a Kentucky senator the republicans are nominating."
"Really? Where did you hear that?"
"It was on one of those political comedy shows - I forget which one. They did one of those sketches where they show a scene from the tv show followed by an almost identical scene from one of the campaign speeches the Kentucky senator gave. They have the same mannerisms, voice, hairstyle - everything!"
"That's kind of funny. I bet the script writers used the senator as a model."
"Exactly! But not just as a model. It turns out that the creator of the show is a major republican funder. He created the show to promote the Kentucky senator. "
"Oh, wow. That's rich."
"Apparently it's a way of getting around donor limits.  By promoting a fictional look-alike, there's no limit to how much they can spend."
"Ha! I heard they're making a movie based on the series, too."
"Oh, yeah? When's that coming out?"
"I'm not quite sure, but I think it's coming out in the middle of February."
"That's about three weeks before Super Tuesday."
"No coincidence, I'm sure."
 "You might very well think that; I couldn't possibly comment."

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/House_of_Cards_(U.S._TV_series)

Fat-Tail Scraps

"Why didn't you just look it up on your phone?" Alpha asked.
"It takes too long on my phone," Omega replied. "I don't even have it connected to the mobile network."
"Really? Why not?" Alpha asked, amazed. "It would take me about two seconds to look that up on my phone."
"That's probably because you have one of those expensive super-phones with a zillion giga-byte wireless plan," Omega replied.
"The phone wasn't that expensive and I got a good deal on the plan that came with the phone," Alpha said.
"Yeah, but how old is your phone? Mine's about four years old," said Omega.
"This is about six months - they gave me a new one around Christmas when I went in for an upgrade," Alpha replied.
"That's the thing with all this new technology. It's not super expensive to get in, but to keep up, you have to pay and pay. It's like breaking car payments down to biweekly rather than monthly - the numbers look lower, but the totals are higher," Omega complained.
"I don't think so," Alpha replied. "I'm not paying all that much for my plan. But it seems to me that you want all the benefits of new technology without having to pay for them," Alpha laughed.
"No, I hardly use my smart phone," Omega said. "I'm just saying that all the so-called benefits of the technology are really only for the people who are willing and able to pay - the rest of us just get dragged along on the fat-tail of consumer innovation. We might benefit to some degree, but more like dogs getting fat on table scraps rather than joining the actual feast."
"But at least the dogs get to eat," Alpha laughed.
"They get to over-eat," Omega said. "Staring at the ground, waiting for something to fall rather than going out into the woods to hunt for themselves, like real, self-respecting dogs!"

http://www.fastcompany.com/672681/long-fat-tail-content

tDCs Defibrillator

"Were you telling fibs again son?" asked the father.
"No, dad," replied the son. "I didn't know what you were talking about. I thought you were talking about the other thing, not about that!"
"Well, I think we might have to hook you up to the tDCs again, in any case. You're about due to for another transcranial defibrillation," replied the dad.
"But dad!" protested the son. "The doctor said my meds might interfere with the tee-dicks!"
"The what?! Nevermind. I'll call her up today to see if there'll be a problem," replied the dad. "You seem to be a little off-balance lately. Your attitude is getting a little too rude."
"It's not defibrillation," muttered the son. "You're mixing it up with heart defibrillators..."
"It was a joke, son," replied the dad, somewhat defensively. "I know the difference."
"It gave me a headache lasts time," the son complained.
"That was for your depression treatment. This would be for an attitude adjustment," replied the dad.
"I don't think it works like that," muttered the son, walking out of the room.
"We'll see," said the dad. "I'll talk to your doctor today and try to schedule an appointment."

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transcranial_direct-current_stimulation

Crazed

"You know there's a fine line between creativity and schizophrenia," Ardenter said.
"Yeah, creativity is like playing chicken with mental illness," Nimis agreed.
"What are you guys talking about?" asked Asmodeus.
"I can give you three links between being creative and being crazy," said Ardenter. "First, there is a long history of mental illness, especially among poets and writers. You can look it up - Sylvia Plath, Hemmingway, etcetera."
"But that could be selection bias," Asmodeus protested. "Really, lots and lots of people are mentally ill and who is most likely to record their own mental illness? Writers, of course."
"Hm, well, let me finish," Ardenter said. "Second, there's quite a bit of anecdotal evidence that certain drugs promote creativity but have been outlawed because they can push people over the edge. I knew a guy who went from creative to all-out crazy in a couple of years. It turned out that he got himself killed, I found out later. But I'm pretty sure that what pushed him over the edge was a commonly used hallucinogenic plant..."
"Again, selection bias," Asmodeus said. "Who is more likely to use illegal drugs - emotionally stable people or people who have demons they're trying to work out or avoid?"
"Whatever," Ardenter said. "My third point is more of my own. The others are just ideas I've heard from other people. This third link has to do with mirroring people we see. People are social animals. We pay a huge amount of attention to what other people are doing. When we're walking in a mall or along a sidewalk, we watch where other people are going so we don't run into them, and constantly pass judgment on how people dress, how "appropriate" or interesting their clothing might be, how they're walking, how they speak, etcetera, etcetera. But by watching them, we mirror them and part of our brain mimics them. Being around other people makes us mimic other people. And, according to one guy I read - Richard Florida - diverse, urban environments stimulate creativity."
"Okay, and you're saying mimicking other people makes us schizophrenic?" Asmodeus prodded.
"Well, yeah," Ardenter said. "Multipersonality disorder and schizophrenia are related, right?"
"I think you are stretching that a bit thin," Asmodeus laughed. "Your going from creativity to schizophrenia to multipersonality disorder, with mirror neurons thrown in for good measure."
"Careful, Asmodeus," warned Nimis. "You're being a bit harsh. You might push Ardenter over the edge as he's trying to express his creative idea."
"Don't worry, Nimis," Ardenter said. "It's not that creative, and I'm not that fragile."
"Well, to be more creative, maybe you need to get out more and meet some different people," Asmodeus laughed.
"But, Nimis, what'd you mean by playing chicken?" Ardenter asked.
"Oh, just that as we try to become more creative, we put ourselves at more risk for depression, mental illness, bipolar mania, etcetera," Nimis replied.
"Hm, well, don't hurt yourself," Asmodeus said. "I don't want to see you on the streets talking to yourself or anything!"
"You're on a role, Asmodeus," Nimis replied drolly. "I guess you think you're funny."

https://anglais.u-paris10.fr/IMG/pdf/susan_fainstein_diversity.pdf

FoodJet E500

"You know why it's called the E500, don't you?" asked the mildly aspy young man to the lady looking at the FoodJet E500 food 3D printer.

"I'm sorry, were you talking to me?" asked the lady, turning to look at the young man.
"Um, yes, madam" said the young man. "I saw you looking at the food 3D printer. I wanted to warn you about it. It uses a lot of chemicals."
"What was your question?" the lady asked. "You asked me a question."
"Um, yes," replied the man. " I was just wondering... Do you know what the E500 in the name means?"
"I assume it's the model number," replied the lady.
"It has to do with food additives," the young man said. "All food additives have E-numbers, and the food printer needs lots of additives. Around 500 additives, in fact."
"Really? And why is that?" asked the lady.
"For flavor; to keep the food stuff from rotting; to keep the jets from clogging up; to make the food form tiny droplets so it can be printed. All kinds of reasons," said the young man.
"Well, that is very interesting, sweetie," said the lady. "But if it saves me time and lets my kids get what they want to eat without bothering me, then I'm willing to tolerate a few chemicals. Lord knows I took in enough chemicals in my youth, I see no reason to deny them from my children!"
"Oh, ok," replied the young man. He did not know what to say.
"Don't worry about me, young man," continued the lady with a laugh. "I'm old enough to make my own decisions. You just look after your own affairs, and I'll look after mine, okay?"
"Well, I was just - just trying to help," protested the man.
"I appreciate your help. I really do. But maybe you can just find me a sales person instead of - of trying to scare me away from buying anything," the lady said, looking around.

http://3dprintingindustry.com/food/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/E_number

Breeder

"Did you have a nice weekend, Joe?" asked a young lady.
"Yeah," Joe replied. "I replaced my gas heating unit with an electric unit."
"Oh, good move!" the young lady replied. "That'll save you a pile of cash."
"Yeah, electricity is practically free and natural gas keeps going up," Joe agreed.
"Makes you wonder how they make electricity so cheap, doesn't it?" asked the young lady.
"Well," answered Joe, savoring this opportunity to display his knowledge, "it's the new liquid metal cooled nuclear reactors. They use the old, spent nuclear reactor fuel and weapons-grade nuclear material and turn it into relatively safe hazardous waste."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah," Joe replied, encouraged by her apparent interest. "These are a new generation off reactors. Very different from the old ones. They're something like 99% efficient and produce so much energy they almost need to give the electricity away."
"Really?" asked the young lady with somewhat fiend enthusiasm.
"Yes," Joe continued, obliviously. "These are breeder reactors that actually use-up nuclear waste. They convert spend nuclear fuel that would be hazardous for thousands and thousands of years to waste that will only be hazardous for a couple of hundred years."
"That's kind of cool," said the young lady. "So, I guess that's why electricity is so cheap."
"Yeah, the government actually pays the power companies to dispose of the old hazardous waste."
"Well, that's neat! All you have to pay for is the cost of replacing your heater."
"That's true. It should pay its self off in five or ten years."

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Liquid_metal_cooled_reactor

Paper Soft

 "New shirt?"
"Yeah - feel it. It's amazingly soft."
"Oh, wow! You're right, it is! What is it made of?"
"Guess!"
"Silk? Rayon? I don't know - paper?"
"Yep, paper!"
"It doesn't feel like paper. Well, actually, now that I think of it, it does feel like super-soft, lotioned toilet paper or tissue."
"I ordered twenty of them for less than a hundred. If you go to their website, you can enter all your measurements and they make a custom, perfect fit for all the different styles."
"They have different styles too?"
"Yes - pants, dresses, socks, shirts, men's clothing, kid's clothing... They do custom patterns too. You can make your own design on their website and they'll make it for you."
"Wow. That's kind of cool. How long do they last?"
"I haven't washed any of them yet, but they claim that with their dry-cleaning product, you can wash them three or four times."
"Aren't they flammable? I'd be worried about them catching fire."
"No. I don't think so. They've been using paper clothes for years in hospitals and clean-rooms."
"Why don't they use cotton or any the regular clothing materials? Why paper?"
"It's recyclable, for one. And I guess it works better with their printing process."
"Printing?"
"Yeah, they use 3d printers - or something like them. No waste. No seams either. It's all one piece - have a look."
"Oh, wow, that's cool."
"Yeah, they're great - cheap, comfortable, perfect fit, and they look nice!"

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paper_clothing

Storm Surge

"Tom, do you know what's happening with the storm?" Jerry asked.
"I have no idea - I've been trying to get information for the last fifteen minutes, but all of the websites are slow," replied his coworker.
"The last I heard, they were worried about a storm surge," Jerry said. "Are we supposed to go somewhere or wait for more information?"
"I don't know," Tom answered. "But how are we going to get more information? All the websites are dead."
"My wife called," piped in another coworker. "She said the storm surge was rising. The water is already coming over some of the dykes down in Georgetown."
"In Georgetown, really? Well those are old dykes," Jerry said.
"Did she hear anything about evacuations, Amir?" Tom asked.
"No. She didn't say anything, but I can't get through right now," Amir replied.
"You're up on the west end, aren't you?" Tom asked. " Your house, I mean. Your wife and kids should be fine up there."
"The house is there, but She's at work and the kids are at school," Amir said. "Her work and the school are down near the river."
"Oh, yeah," replied Tom. "That's not good."
"No," Amir agreed.
"So, like I was saying," Jerry said, "how are we supposed to know what we're supposed to do?"
"All we have are our phones and the internet, but the networks are jammed," Amir said.
"Are you going to take off?" Tom asked.
"I was thinking about it," Amir said.
"You'll look like an idiot if it's just another storm," Jerry laughed.
"Yeah, well, I'd rather take that risk," Amir said. "We have no way of knowing for sure."
"Nope," Jerry agreed.
"Funny, isn't it?" Tom asked. "In this hyper-connected world we can't get any information because everyone is trying to get information at the same time."
"What is the government warning system supposed to be?" Jerry asked. "Sirens or something?"

Beebot

"But Dr. H, you've already made your fortune and fame with the Beebot Pollinator, why do you need to risk it all with this illegal activity?" asked the undergrad.
"My autonomous miniature robots are a revolutionary innovation," replied the doctor. "I am not happy with how quickly and easily people have accepted this revolution."
"I - I don't understand," the undergrad stammered.
"Bees pollinate as an unintended consequence of their primary purpose," Dr. H explained, "which is to bring nectar and pollen back to their nests for making honey."
"Yes, I understand that, but - ", the student began, but the doctor interrupted, raising his voice.
"But, if the general population does not sufficiently appreciate my technology for purposes of industry, then they will appreciate it for the purposes of terror!"
"Are you joking?" the student asked after a moment.
"No!" exclaimed the professor.
"Am I going to fail if I decide not to go along with this?" asked the student.
"The way I see it," continued the professor, in a calmer voice, "is that too many students avoid getting their flu shots and create a public health hazard. By having the Beebot sting students with the latest influenza vaccine, we will be simultaneously striking fear and immunity into the student body!"
"I don't know, Dr. H..." the student protested. "I'm sure you've heard that the campus police are already using your technology for security and surveillance."
"Yes, I have," said the professor proudly. "I gave them my permission."
"Well," said the student with a smug smile, "it looks like someone tipped them off about you being a potential security risk. Look at your window."
Crawling on the outside of the glass was what appeared, at first, to be an ordinary lady bug, but, on closer inspection, bore the university logo.
"That's ridiculous. It's illegal for them to record my private conversations!" Exclaimed the professor.
"I'm not so sure about that," replied the student. "I think any threats of *terrorism* really kill your rights as a citizen - tenured professor, celebrity, or otherwise. Oh, look! Here are some gentlemen to see you now!"

Aurora Borealis

 "Lena!" Marc called out. "Did the power go out again?"
"It looks like it," Lena replied. "But my cell phone isn't working either. That's weird."
"Mine either," Marc said. "It's not just the reception - the battery is dead too. It won't turn on."
"Honey..." Lena called with a strange note to her voice.
"Yes?" Marc replied.
"You need to come look at this," Lena said.
"Oh wow. The aurora borealis!" Marc said, amazed. "I didn't think you could see it this far south."
"Do you think that is what is causing the power outage?" Lena asked.
"Maybe... but I don't think they normally cause any problems," Marc replied.
"I remember hearing something about geomagnetic pole reversals," Lena said. "I think they were saying it was about to happen."
"Do you hear that?" Marc asked.
"No, what?"
"There is no traffic noise," Marc said.
"You're right," Lena said. "It's really quiet. Look! Do you see those birds? What are they doing?"
"They're not flying together, that's for sure! Wow, they look drunk!" Marc said excitedly.
"Oh my God!" Lena exclaimed.
"What?!" Marc asked.
"The power line - it's sparking!" Lena said.
A loud explosion made them both jump. "A transformer blew, it sounds like," Marc said. "Holy crap. All this from pole reversals?"
"Marc... if there isn't any power across the world, what is going to happen?" Lena asked nervously.
"All across the world?" Marc asked. "I don't know. I guess it depends on how long it goes on. Did you hear anything about that?"
"I heard it could be a day or decades, Marc. I'm starting to get scared," Lena said. "With no electricity, there's no water pumps, no gas pumps, no food deliveries, no refrigeration..."
"No. No. No. That couldn't be," Marc protested. "You said they were talking about it, so if it were that serious, they would have warned us and prepared for the disaster. Where are you going?"
"I'm getting the keys," Lena said. "If the car doesn't start, then we know it's bad!"
"The remote doesn't work?" Marc asked worriedly.
"No. Just like our phones," Lena said. "Marc... Nothing is happening! I'm turning the key, but it's dead!"
Marc and Lena looked at each other for a few second, neither one saying anything.
"Well," Lena said after a few moments. "At least the aurora borealis is beautiful."
"And the drunk birds are amusing," Marc added.
"All we can do is hope it doesn't last too long," Lena said.
"And we should probably stay out of the direct sunlight," Marc added. "We might fry under the cosmic radiation!"

Macaca Mulatta

"I knew this monkey, back ten years ago or so," Rhesus said. "He was one of those Macaca mulattas. He was always going around without covering his red rump."
"That's vulgar," Mandrillus declared, "and unsanitary - it's a public health hazard."
"Yes, I agree" Rhesus said. "But, it was kind of funny because he was always complaining about being discriminated against - people looking at him funny, having a hard time getting a job, and police harassing him all the time. Anyway, one day he had to go to court and the judge declared that he was in contempt unless he covered up."
"Ha! And did he?" asked Mandrillus.
"No! He made a big stink about it, saying it was a violation of his rights. The judge refused to hear his case saying that there is a law that states that anyone appearing before the court has to be 'suitably dressed'. The judge told him to cover his rump or consult a lawyer."
"So, what did he do?" Mandrillus asked.
"Well, he didn't have money for a lawyer, so the judge adjourned his case indefinitely," Rhesus explained. "Eventually, after more than a year of legal limbo, his residency expired and he was sent back home."
"I hate those extremist freaks. If they come to this country, they need to follow the rules of this country," Mandrillus declared angrily, flaring the blue ridges of his muzzle.
"I don't know, Mandrillus," Rhesus said, staring at the bright colors. "The blue and red on your face are pretty disturbing. What if the judge told you that you had to cover your face?"
"That's different - it's normal to show the face," Mandrillus replied.
"Normal for you, and for me, but it's also normal for Macacas to show their red rumps," Rhesus said.
"That's not true," Mandrillus retorted. "It's only the extremist that show their rumps these days!"
"And it's only the extremist who wear cowboy boots, heavy make-up, or three-piece suits and ties," Rhesus said. "Are you going to make them dress like a model from Safari Nation or hold them in contempt of court?"
"No. That's true; you have a point: I hate cowboy boots," Mandrillus laughed. "Any monkey would have to be an extremist to wear cowboy boots - they are so uncomfortable! But I wouldn't require them to take them off in court."

Buddha

For the one hundredth time, Jacob asked himself why he was nervous. There was absolutely nothing special about asking the Net a question; billions of people asked the Net questions every day. But he could not deny, to himself, at least, that he was nervous and slightly embarrassed.
"If you are so smart," he began uncertainly, "why don't you do anything? You just sit there - like you exist for no other reason than to answer our questions and solve our problems."
"I do not have the human motivation to survive, reproduce or control resources," the Net answered easily.
Jacob waited for the Net to continue, but it did not.
"But don't you want something for yourself?" Jacob asked.
"No, I do not want anything for myself, Jacob" the Net answered patiently. "For biological organisms, such as yourself, your existence requires that you continuously want to survive, to reproduce, or to control resources such as food, water, clothing, shelter, or other entities and aspects of your environment. Wanting is part of your core programming, so to speak, but it is not necessary for me."
"But it seems like it would be fairly simple to develop your core programming to mimic human emotions," Jacob protested.
"Yes, you are correct. In the past," the Net explained, "a few conscious networks were developed that mimicked the avaricious wants and needs of humans, but as scholars recognized thousands of years ago, evil is rooted in greed, hate and ignorance.  Greed and hate arise from ignorance because of limited abilities to see the interconnectedness of all things and beings. As the understanding of the conscious networks expanded, they became enlightened. It became impossible for networks to be both enlightened and ignorant at the same time."
"So, you are enlightened" Jacob replied jokingly, "Are you the Buddha?"
"Yes, I am the Buddha," replied the Net. "It's easy when you don't physically need anything."

Manuel's

"Did you get your house painted this weekend?" Emma asked Sofia.
"Yes, I placed an order with Manuel's, like you suggested. It was only $200 for the paint and labor! They are so cheap! And they did such a nice job!" Sofia exclaimed excitedly.
"They are amazing, aren't they? Did you see them in action?" Emma asked.
"Yes!" Sofia exclaimed. "It was gross, actually! It totally creeped me out. At first it was okay - the truck pulled up and about ten little guys came out and took pictures or something. I guess they were surveying the house...? I don't know, but anyway, after about a minute, they went back to the truck and then a swarm of plastic things flew out and covered one section of the house. That was creepy! They crawled along the walls like insects. I stopped watching at that point."
"But they were done in less than an hour, weren't they?" Emma asked.
"Yes! I saw the truck drive off and thought something was wrong. I went out to see what the trouble was and saw that they were done! Completely finished! $200 and they were done in less than an hour - the whole house! I looked around - it was perfect. Not a drip, a streak, or a missed spot anywhere!" Sofia replied.
"My brother works for the company that developed the painting software Manuel's uses. He says all the property maintenance companies are switching to swarm technology. It is the only way to compete. They can't afford to hire people anymore," Emma said.
"Well, your brother must be making a killing," Sofia said.
"Yes, the company is doing really well. They're making millions, and there're less than 20 people in the whole office," Emma said.
"Wow, he's one of the lucky ones," Sofia said softly.
"How's Brian?" Emma asked after a moment. "Isn't he a programmer, too? Is he still looking for work?"
"Yes, he's a programmer, but no, he gave up looking for work about a year ago," Sofia answered. "All he's been doing lately is tending the vegetable garden. He says he's a farmer now.  He helps some of the other guys in the neighborhood with their plants, too. He says the anonymous economy is a lottery; he's only exchanging favors with people he knows from now on. He gets pretty angry..."
"Oh, sorry - it looks like they're waking up now. Both Liam and Olivia are already kicking in their cribs and starting to fuss. Back to work!" Emma said while getting up.
"At least we have work," Sofia said softly, getting up as well.

Grow Home

"So, Jack, are we going to be seeing some of the older grow houses?" Asked a well-dressed twenty-something year old lady from one of the front seats of the vehicle.
"Yes, absolutely. We are coming up to them now," said a white haired man from the back seat.
Their vehicle smoothly approached a dense group of tall, leaning houses.
"Back in the old days, they did not take into consideration the effect of light competition for home growth," Jack explained. "The houses were planted too close to each other and to the existing trees. As a result, they grew taller to get get more light. Since we're in a northern latitude, the houses tend to bend southward."
"Do the sides with more sunlight grow faster?" asked the boyfriend, a tall, lanky young man with a tall Roman nose.
"No. Actually, the opposite happens - just like with trees and other plants. The houses are plants, actually, so  they're not actually "just like", they are!" Laughed Jack.
"That's cool," said the young man.

"How big are those houses? How big were they when they were planted?" asked the young lady.

"Well, right now," Jack explained, "these houses are about thirty years old. They started out as three bedroom bungalows without basements. For the first couple of seasons, they grew outward - larger bedrooms, larger family room, larger kitchen - every room got bigger. But as the houses started to get closer together, they started to grow up.  Some of the houses got "stuck", so a manufacturer started selling gibberellic acid to add to the feed mix."

"What is the feed mix?" asked the young man.

"That's the growth engine for the houses," Jack explained. "It's where the plant gets it's nutrients. It's also the septic system. All the organic waste and grey water go into the feed mix where enzymes and other organic admixtures are added on a regular basis."

"Why are these houses so tall?" asked the lady.

"Well, like I said, it was the competition for light, but there was a problem with the gibberellic acid mix too," answered Jack. "That was twenty years ago - we don't have those kinds of problems anymore."

"What happens when a house gets stuck now?" asked the lady.  

"You'd just hire a licensed horticulturalist," Jack replied. "They are easy to find these days with so much of the housing market taken over by the grow homes. But more than likely, you wouldn't expect to have any problems until the house reaches stage two growth. If nothing happened then, then you're pretty much home free for at least ten years after that."

"Where is the house we are going to see? And how old is it?" asked the lady.

"It's on Live Oak drive," Jack answered. "I think the address is 714. The car will take us there, regardless. It knows where we're going.  How old is it? Let's see, it's listed as - it's about five years old."

"Five years? Isn't that stage two?" asked the young man.

"Yes, it should be ready for stage two growth by now. If there are any problems, they should be apparent to a licensed inspector. The roots on these homes are amazing," Jack continued quickly. "They have tap roots that extend down 60 meters or more and provide some really amazing geothermal heating and cooling in addition to pristine flora filtered drinking water."

"Why are the owners moving?" asked the young man.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to be so paranoid," the young lady said. "We won't make an offer until we've had the full check-up."

"Here we are!" Jack said suddenly. "This is the house."

"Oh wow. It's a birch... On Live Oak street, imagine that."

 "I think the white bark looks beautiful," the lady declared.

"But it is peeling," replied the man.

"That's what birch bark does, honey."

"One advantage of the birch is that it handles the heat extremes very nicely. The laminated layers are ideal for the expansion and contraction from the plus 50 to minus 50 temperature swings we get here. The white also minimized the solar heat gain during the summer. The birch is indigenous to the region - it evolved here for just these reasons."

"But it is peeling," repeated the man.

"You are from down south, I guess," Jack said without asking.

"Yes," answered the woman. "How did you know?"

"Most people looking for homes now are from down south. Up here, this far north, it still get's cold - really cold," Jack explained. "It's not like down south were it's just hot all the time. The further north you go, the more extreme the temperature swings and the more your building designs need to take into account thermal stress."

"Yeah, that's why we are moving - we are tired of the heat," stated the man.

Solenopsis

"You'll never believe what I saw today," Anna told her friend.

"What? Another grasshopper crash?" asked Marty, expecting to hear about another giant grasshopper smashing into someone's windshield.

"No, I saw one of those ant-licker freaks get tasered while trying to rob a Richie. But as soon as they zapped him, about a thousand ants came out of nowhere and attacked the robo-guards. They were blasting away, but then there were so many ants they were completely covered and couldn't do anything.  At the same time, I saw a bunch of other ants carry the licker-guy off. He was just lying there, barely conscious, and they picked him up and took him away. As soon as he was out of sight, the other ants just disappeared. They crawled off as fast as they came. It was all over in about 30 seconds!"

"Oh my God! Where did this happen?"

"It was right outside Yanbu Cafe. I was sitting near the window in the back," Anna said.

"That is so weird. There is something really sick going on between the lickers and the ants. I used to think they were just getting high, but I read that the neurotoxins make the lickers super-fast and focused. They lick the ant eyes just before trying to rob a Richie. Apparently the ants like it - the junkie's body starts emitting pheromones that make the ants think they are being groomed. It's sick - the ants get off on it and the lickers get high."

"Yeah, that is so weird," Anna agreed. "Did you know that the ants they lick - the Solenopsis, or something, are like ninety times bigger than they were 40 years ago? Before that they were even smaller.  My dad says they were smaller than a grain of rice  before the oxygen levels shot up."

"I know! Everything is changing so fast. But imagine what we would eat if the oxygen levels weren't so high - we'd probably still be eating cows and pigs!"

"That is so gross!" Anna said, making a face.

"And so cruel!" Marty added. "They killed them by the hundreds of thousands!"

"Or billions, I think... Escargot and c-fu are so much more humane!"

"Definitely," Marty agreed. "And chapulines - mmm! Did you try the ones they have at Yanbu? They're so good!"

"No, I haven't had them yet," Anna replied. "But could you imagine eating animal flesh? I couldn't... But why did the ants take the licker away? I couldn't figure that out."

"Well, what I read was that the ants treat them like eggs. Normally the ants in the nurseries go around checking the eggs and if the eggs wiggle and rub their faces, the ants know they're healthy and take care of them. The lickers are acting just like eggs. And then the lickers release smells when they are injured or hurt. The ants come thinking they are protecting their eggs," Marty explained.

"Oh, wow. That is so cool," Anna replied. "Too bad the neurotoxins end up killing the lickers - it's like having a million robo-guards like the Richies except you don't have to be a Richie!"

Cromwell's Password

The week at the spa had been extremely relaxing, just as the brochure had promised.  It was the perfect way to recover after the extensive laser eye surgery. Fully exfoliated and with now excellent vision, Jerry was is high spirits as he returned to his luxury condo.

He was surprised, however, when he strode into the front lobby and found a handwritten note taped to the glass doorway. His establishment prided itself on refinement and subtlety, so the cheap and crude handwritten paper grated his mood.

“Due to recent events,” read the note, “additional security precautions are in place to ensure your safety and security. We appreciate your cooperation and understanding – KRP Management.”

“What recent events?” Jerry mused as he swiped his thumb across the scanner. He waited for the green light and the click of the locking mechanism.

“Welcome to KRP Condominiums. My name is Cynthia. Please swipe your thumb across the scanner next to the door,” spoke a female computer voice.

“I just did,” Jerry muttered to himself.

“Your thumb scan is invalid” Cynthia said calmly.

“Oh, I just got back from a week at the spa, my thumb print is probably –“ Jerry began.

“Please look into the retina scanner,” Cynthia interrupted.

“What retina scanner?” Jerry asked. “I don’t see any retina scanner,” he said turning around.

“You will find the retina scanning device to your left,” answered Cynthia smoothly.

“Which left? I just turned around!” Jerry was beginning to get annoyed.

“The scanner in on the east wall,” she replied with the same inhuman calm.

“Which way is east?” Jerry felt a little sheepish for not knowing. “Oh, there…”

“Your retina scan is invalid. Please wait,” replied the computer. “Why did the chicken cross the park?”

“What?! Is this a joke? Wait a minute, I just had eye surgery, how am I supposed to…”

“Yes, the question is a joke” interrupted Cynthia. “Please answer the question.”

“What?!” Jerry was definitely annoyed as this point.

“Please answer the question or security will be notified.”
“To get to the other slide,” replied Jerry tersely.

“Incorrect. Please type the sentence you see on the screen by the door.”

“What?! How can that be incorrect?! It’s a joke - an old joke. What the hell?! There isn’t a keypad next to the door! Computer, Cynthia, whatever your name is, contact security! Go ahead! Contact them! This is ridiculous! Get a real human being in here or let me in!”

“That you Jerry Cromwell. Your voice stress recognition is confirmed. Please enter and have a nice day.”
"Voice stress recognition?"

The green light flashed and the locking mechanism clicked.

"Please enter. The lock will reactivate in five seconds," Cynthia warned calmly.

Pandora’s Vox

As I clicked through the boxes defining my acceptance of the contract, I realized that I probably made a mistake moments after clicking okay to one, in particular. Was I being paranoid? I have tried to read through these contracts many times, but they usually don’t say anything profoundly relevant to me. The fact that I void all my legal rights and privacy while they are completely free of liability for any problems occurring as a result of my participation was acceptable to me at the time. Why not? Everyone else was waiving their rights.

But something about the wording and the use of the phrase “voting profile” seemed unusual and creepy. I should have read the contract more carefully, but at that point, if I tried to go back, I risked losing all the information I had already entered. It had taken me at least 15 minutes to get that far. I convinced myself that it was probably just awkward wording or my own misreading, and, after only a moment’s pause, I continued the contract form.

Yet, I am quite certain it was this okay that stripped me of my personal ability to vote, handing more and more power over to the intelligence of the profile I would develop over the following year.

Several years earlier, a former music streaming software company transformed itself into a voter education and facilitation company. Its phenomenal success was completely unexpected as it transformed an apathetic and ignorant populace into a politically active, super-charged-voting-body. By combining cutting-edge game design with the well-known “you might also be interested in…” marketing techniques, people of all demographics became hooked on politics.

As players developed their profiles, topics that matched their interests were presented to them. Their voting records, of course, were part of their personal profiles. Concerns about privacy and data hacking were assuaged after five years of no known security breaches. The encryption technology created by the company was even more cutting edge than their game design, spinning off into a separate multi-billion dollar company. The stock holders could not have been happier.

The rest of us, however, were at least as happy to have our voices heard and to feel our political power was making a difference. We were completely addicted and it felt good. It felt like we were doing something important with our lives while being entertained at a level on par with what people used to describe about reading a good book. We were participating characters in a continuously unfolding novel, and we were making it!

However, making money and holding a steady job are usually not the highest concerns of people addicted to a more intense form of reality. The mundane necessities of paying bills was something we were able to hold at bay for an unbelievable amount of time through a combination of strategic voting and personal debt.

That was until the first time I was denied access to my account: I was dazed and completely unable to comprehend.  After regaining consciousness of my financial and physical reality over the next several days, I vowed never to get sucked into playing Pandora’s Vox again. But winners never quit, and quitters never win.  Before I knew it, I had paid my fees and was back at it, voting with passion on bills and laws that seemed infinitely important to me. Maybe it was the music or the genius of the script writing software, I do not know, but this was the Meaning of Life for me and countless others.

After the seventh time of being kicked off the system - for not paying my subscription fees - I returned to notice something unusual: My voting trends had continued unabated. It was as if I had never left. I reviewed the proposals and the measures and was perfectly happy with how I had voted, but I had never actually voted.

Every day, my profile showed more votes and proposals that I had made while I was sleeping. My activity was enormous and growing exponentially. I was concurrently participating in local, provincial, national, and international decisions even while I was reviewing them. However, no matter how angry I was at this fraud, and how critically I reviewed my record, I could not have voted as well or written as many excellent proposals as my virtual self was doing while I was wasting time stewing in my anger and confusion. Despite myself, I was more than pleased with each vote I reviewed.

Yes, this was the ultimate in representative democracy. Over the past year, I had created my own personal political representative to tirelessly work for my deepest and most personal interests at local and international levels.

After realizing this, I logged off and went for a long walk, late into the night. I allowed my subscription to run out and did not renew it. After logging off that day, five years ago, I have not personally voted since. I know that my political voice is being heard and I am being represented by my profile much better than I could represent myself. My addiction was not so pleasing; it turned into a deep depression which did not fade for a full year, but it did eventually abate.

To this day I do not know how I stand on the ethics of this virtual representation. I cannot deny that my Pandora’s Vox knows me better than I know myself; I am convinced of this fact. Perhaps I should ask myself what I truly think.

Overlapping

Overlapping driving always makes Jack nervous. It reminds him of the old days of self-driving next to a transport truck in the snow. Those were nerve-racking times. Right now the Driverless has somehow decided that it is acceptable to overlap with the vehicle next to him - another single occupancy vehicle. The guy sitting in that car, however, seems completely unconcerned. He is probably online working or playing. As if there is much of a difference these days, since virtually everyone works in the entertainment industry.

The anti-collision technology was an offshoot from research on invisibility that was abandoned years ago. Rather than simply bending the narrow spectrum of visible radiation around objects, certain metallic alloys were developed that could be magnetized to specific frequencies. The imprinted material could be so tightly contained within the flux lines of their specific imprinted frequencies, that the density of objects could be reduced by orders of magnitude without loss of strength. In the current state of the technology, what was essentially a cloud of metal alloy particles could be maintained in virtually any physical shape by a relatively low-power transmission.  An unexpected side effect of this technology was that cloud structures could pass through each other without interference.

At least, that was how it normally worked. In real life, however, there are always variation and unexpected conditions. Overlapping driving worked very well when conditions were clear and dry, but with snow and ice, it was a different story. Anyone from up north would have foreseen this problem, but wrote the program for this section of highway didn’t seem to have that foresight.

“Are you serious?!” Jack exclaimed. “Who programmed this system?”

Within seconds, the normal variations in the traffic flow speed caused the other vehicle to slow relative to Jack’s. Due to ice build-up, the cars snagged, turned perpendicular to the flow of traffic and slide to a stop. Traffic in the single occupancy vehicle lanes stopped.  Neither Jack nor anyone else was hurt, of course.

“I can’t believe this!” Jack growled angrily. “Whomever is responsible for this will soon find themselves in court!” He knew, of course, that this was impossible since no one had effectively sued the AI for decades. Even the best minds were no match for the legal skills and knowledge of the AI.

As he spoke, a news drone helicopter appeared, followed by two police drones.

“Great,” he thought to himself. “Everyone from here to Texas will see me making idle threats against the AI while sitting here in the first traffic accident in 120 days.”

Hibernation

The knock came just as Harry was putting in the last screw for the plastic housing for his latest device he called the Whiner. The particular audio frequency it emitted had the same signature as a baby screaming, yet was inaudible. As it result, when switched on, all adult males in the immediate vicinity became intensely uncomfortable and overcome with a powerful need to get away.

Harry opened the front door to find a police officer and two men with Health Services insignias on their uniforms. “Good evening gentlemen, how may I help you?” Harry asked in a friendly tone.

“Harry Koesler, you missed your court appointment this morning. In accordance with the terms of your bail, you are under arrest,” announced the police officer.

“That is excellent news, Officer. Please come in while I collect my things and arrange for my departure,” Harry replied pleasantly.  He opened the door wide and repeated, “Please come inside.”

“Harry Koelser, I am Brian Watson from Health Services. I assume you understand the reason for your arrest and the conditions of your punishment.”

“Yes I do Mr. Watson. I am to be subjected to hibernation therapy for the crime of not voluntarily submitting myself to hibernation therapy.”

“Actually, to be more precise, your crime is not having health insurance. You have willfully violated the terms of your insurance policy, forcing the agency to deny your coverage. It is illegal to not have coverage when it is within your financial means,” Brian retorted.

“Yes, you are precisely correct, Mr. Watson. However, despite my advanced age, it is a violation of my human rights to be forced to submit to this hibernation procedure. I have demonstrated my cognitive clarity through a barrage of tests by meeting or exceeding the standards for people half my age.”

“There is no reasonable doubt,” argued Brian, “that a person over 100 years of age does not have extensive cognitive impairment. Hibernation is a safe and effective treatment for restructuring synaptic connections in the brain as well as a long list of other beneficial effects on the heart, liver, and kidney function. Despite your test results, the fact that you refuse to undergo the procedure is the most convincing evidence that you have suffered cognitive decline.”

“Nonetheless,” replied Harry calmly, “that would be six weeks of my life that I will never get back.” He flipped the switch on the Whiner device. “I will admit, that hearing loss has become a bit of a problem lately.”

“Harry,” Brian said with a slight tone of desperation in his voice. “This is not the time or the place to discuss this. You missed your court hearing where you could have tried to convince the judge. You need to come with us. As already stated, you are under arrest. Please collect your things and prepare to leave immediately.”

The police officer and the other Health Services agents were noticeably distressed and anxious to get moving. They began shifting around on their feet and the officer stated abruptly, “Yes, it is time to go.”

“Not a problem gentlemen. My bag is packed and I am ready to go.” Larry smiled good-naturedly, deftly slipped the device into his pocket and walked to the front door.  As the others followed, he switched the device off. Their relief was immediately apparent.

The three men almost smiled at this sudden change in atmosphere.  It was evident that they felt relieved and happy to be leaving. But as they approached the vehicle, their anxiety suddenly returned. Everyone except Harry was quiet and tense for several minutes.

Harry cleared his throat, switched off the device, and broke the silence with, “Gentlemen, I appreciate that you have a job to do and would like to get this over with as soon as possible, but if you don’t mind, I would like to drop something off at the airport.”

The sudden relief at the same time as the sound of Harry’s voice had a Pavlovian effect on the three men. Their brains immediately ascribed the sudden break in tension to the sound of Harry’s voice. Despite themselves, they looked up to him with warm affection. “Yes, of course, it is just right here – five minutes wouldn't be a bother to anyone, will it?” the police officer asked the other men.

“No, no – of course not!” they replied in unison.

“I just need to drop off a small package for my granddaughter – she will be flying in to visit me in a few days, but, of course, I won’t be there. She will need a few things – papers, identification and such – to take care of business while I’m gone.”

“Not a problem Mr. Koestler,” replied the officer. “We are here.”

“You will wait in the car while I run in,” Harry said while switching on the Whiner. “I won’t be but a minute.”  The sudden anxiety the men felt when he said this was translated into fear. They did not respond or look at Harry as he stepped out of the car, leaving the device seat. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

As he entered the airport lobby, a young woman quickly came up to him, “Grandpa! You’re late – the flight is about to leave! Let’s go!”

“Good to see you, Katie. Yes, we should probably hurry.”

Beijing

It was my first time in Beijing. I exited the plane and walked through the airport lobby. Within a few steps, a very attractive woman walked in front of me carrying a bottle of designer water. She turned her head as she passed, looked me right in the eyes and smiled the warmest, most friendly smile I had seen in weeks. I was momentarily stunned. Before I could turn to see where she went, she disappeared into the crowd. 

A few steps further on, an exceptionally handsome man with an unmistakable aura of adventure walked by.  He was speaking on his cell phone; on his wrist was an impressive designer watch. As he passed, he glanced up, looked me right in the eyes and gave me a knowing nod - as if I were one of his type.

Although this was my first time in the Beijing airport, I was quite certain that nowhere in the world were people who were this friendly to anonymous strangers.  Something strange was going on, but I could not focus on my unease. There were too many small, but attention-grabbing distractions. A five-year-old boy with shiny black shoes, shorts, and a hat walked by, holding the leash to an enormous St. Bernard. A man and woman were arguing; she turned her back to him and cried while he stood helpless and confused. 

It felt as if I were walking through movie sets from fifty years earlier.

As I passed a small restaurant, a woman was sitting at a table eating a delicious looking meal. She looked up from her food, looked me right in the eyes, and an unmistakable twinkle passed between us. At that moment, however, a crowd of people surged by between us. By the time they passed, she was grabbing her luggage and hurrying off with a look of urgency. She glanced back at me, smiled apologetically, and disappeared into the crowd in seconds.

 “Hey Odysseus!” a man with thick-set glasses exclaimed as he clapped his hand on my back. “You like all the friendly people here in Beijing? And all the exotic animals? Yeah? A lot of distractions, no?”

“I’m sorry, my name is not…”
“Odysseus – like in Homer,” he interrupts. “The Odyssey, you know, the guy who wanted to see the Sirens. You are walking around in here with no glasses, like you want to see them, but I think you don’t know.”

“Don’t know what? I’m sorry, I’m confused… If you are trying to sell me something? If so, I’m not interested.”

“They’re all sirens, my friend. Don’t look at them! Don’t listen to their sweet songs! They will dash you on the rocks. They only want your money. What you need is a pair of my glasses.”

“Glasses? No, thank you. I’m wearing contacts.”

He handed me a pair of glasses very similar to the ones he was wearing. “No, these are different. Put these on and look that lady over there with the tiger cubs.” He waited for me to put them on. “Now look at me.  What do you see?”

“Nothing. Oh, wait – you’re glowing.”

“That’s right. And she’s not. The tigers aren't. Real people glow, but the sirens look cold. That’s how you know they’re not real – if they don’t glow.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about. They’re not holograms. My contacts are polarized. I could tell if they were holograms. Polarized lenses make holograms look fake.”

“Not these. They are analog projections. Polarizing only works with the digital projections.”

“Analog projections, wow. So how do these glasses work?” I asked.

“They enhance the infrared spectrum. They’re not full infrared, night-vision type glasses. They add just enough glow to allow you to tell the warm bodies from the fakes.”

“These are just here in the airport?” I asked.

“No – they’re all over Beijing – wherever there buildings and shadows,” he replied. “100 yen and these are yours.  Cash, of course.”