[A]n obvious obstacle to identifying our neighbors is the tendency to limit our imagination to what we already know. But this should not necessarily remain the case in the future.
Frankly, I think it’s high time that somebody invent the warp drive so that the Vulcans will finally notice us.
Seek and ye shall find!
Ah, a place to crash on Mars.
No, not a lander. A hotel.
I won’t mention the web site where this automated (probably Google) ad popped up.
But they often have extreme -ly interesting tech -nology information.
Just in time for spring break, too!
He described the concept as a “stainless-steel sandwich” that can “bleed water…fuel” through tiny holes on its surface to keep it cool as it enters the Martian atmosphere at breakneck speeds.
Not sure, but I don’t think there are a lot of people who want to travel to Mars inside a sandwich…
Yes, climate change is real.
Yes, some of these five classic SF novels from Tor are really about pollution and not climate change per se.
Yes, that doesn’t really matter.
The Sheep Look Up is still the best of the bunch. And (not surprisingly) somewhat prophetic.
Le plus chose change…
(P.S. Happy Yuletide. Bwah ha ha…)
So WordPress tells me I started blogging here nine years ago today.
Really? I should have more far more posts by now 😅. What was that New Year’s resolution again?
I’ve made good progress on my mother’s high school manuscript — up to Chapter 9 (out of 15). Taking notes while I type, particularly about cultural references and language usage, I came across one interesting prediction:
“The space program of the two major nations [US and Russia] were joined after the moon project because it was cheaper to outfit; also, with the world’s greatest minds working together, better vehicles could be built.”
This was written a full 9 years before the joint Apollo-Soyuz (or Soyuz-Apollo) Test Project in 1975 that basically ended the “space race” started by the launch of Sputnik.
Written by a 17-year-old in 1968. The reality was more complicated, but still, heck of a prediction. Go, Mom!
Since I don’t have access to a printer for a while (on a research stay in Montréal for a while), I decided to write a letter.
You know, on paper. With lines. That stuff made from trees that you can still find everywhere although nobody under the age of 25 ever uses it any more.
I hadn’t written an actual handwritten letter since probably before 1995. It felt…oddly satisfying.
Of course, I rambled on for 12 pages before I realized it. But imagine that; imagine no email, no tweets and posts and shares, and actually writing a letter that *only one other person will ever see.* (My mother in the hospital, in case you’re wondering.)
Can kids these days even conceive of such a thing, let alone actually write one?
Just think: You who are born into the digital age, you will never know the frustration of constantly confusing “stationary” with “stationery.”
‘Cause, what’s “stationery” again?
Oh, yeah. That stuff made from trees.
Old fossil. Jeez, get back to writing about SF already. (Getting there, getting there. Family comes first. Gimme a break.)