July 2012
59 posts
If you’ve never seen this coverage, I urge you to watch at least the landing segment (~10 min.) and the first 10-20 minutes of the Moon walk. I hope that with the old time TV display and poor YouTube quality, you get a small sense of how someone 40 years ago might have experienced it. I’ve watched the whole thing a couple of times while putting this together and I’m struck by two things: 1) how it’s almost more amazing that hundreds of millions of people watched the first Moon walk *live* on TV than it is that they got to the Moon in the first place, and 2) that pretty much the sole purpose of the Apollo 11 Moon walk was to photograph it and broadcast it live back to Earth.
And in this, we come to the final boundary, and one whose erosion excites me a great deal: the boundary between the fictional and the real. Many writers on this blog have described “the implosion of atoms and bits”, and I think it shouldn’t escape notice that for people who buy into digital dualism, the digital, in being held separate from the “real”, presents itself as a kind of fiction. But many of us say that this is incorrect, that the digital and the physical are increasingly intermeshed, that reality itself must be understood as “augmented”. What I see, what I experienced in reading the passage in Pattern Recognition that I described at the beginning of this post, was and is another kind of augmented reality, in which my own experience and someone else’s story became as intermeshed as I am with technology.
The question at which we now arrive is the question with which Gibson himself seems to have been faced: If traditional science fiction tells stories through an imagined future, how does one tell those stories in a vital and sensible way when the boundaries between past, present, and future are constantly eroding?
The answer that Gibson seems to have hit upon–and the answer to which other authors seem to be looking as well–is to do away with the tradition, and with it, the constraints of temporal setting. Gibson’s current work maintains the sensibilities and the flavor of science fiction, but his stories are set in the present, and are about the present–in a present so nebulous that it could pass for recent past or near future, or some parallel universe. His fiction reflects atemporality. It embraces the blurring of the lines.
” —Speculative Fiction, Atemporality, and Augmented Reality » CyborgologyWhen we document our lives for and with social media, this is a kind of narrative; we’re telling a story. The ways in which we tell our stories affect the kinds of stories we tell, and this in turn affects how we view ourselves, our own intersection of biography and history–two other stories, one small and one considerably larger. We are entering a period wherein the stories we tell and are told are becoming atemporal. This has dramatic implications for the ways in which we both write fiction and do sociological work–both of which I do. And I am finding less and less meaningful distinction between the two.
If postmodernism is dead, where are we now? Are we living in post-postmodernism? No. We’ve gone back to the future.
Imagine the future. It’s gleaming and space-age. It’s bright and modern, minimal, functional, and new. Except this isn’t the future at all. It’s the past.
A little over half a century ago, someone decided the future would look gleaming and space age. We’ve been playing catch-up ever since. Sixty years on, this promised future hasn’t arrived. Despite this, it still has the power to influence contemporary design.
This is commodity nostalgia — the sort that manifests in buying, collecting and studying consumer goods from the past. It’s expressed in an aesthetic of “quaintness” — finding anachronistic texts, ideas and objects desirable precisely because they are now considered outmoded.
Commodity nostalgia uses consumer goods as sensory bridges between a present defined as crass or uninspiring and a magical, glamorous past. Through the distinctive looks, scents, tastes and textures of longstanding brands — Brylcreem, Pears, Barney Banana, Fred Perry, Chanel No. 5, Glomesh — consumers can revisit their remembered pasts and imagine how it might have felt to live in whatever period these brands were at their peak.
And so, if we can hang on, it will be in the twenty-fifties that the manners and meanings of the Obama era will be truly revealed: only then will we know our own essence. A small, attentive child, in a stroller on some Brooklyn playground or Minneapolis street, is already recording the stray images and sounds of this era: Michelle’s upper arms, the baritone crooning sound of NPR, people sipping lattes (which a later decade will know as poison) at 10 A.M.—manners as strange and beautiful as smoking in restaurants and drinking Scotch at 3 P.M. seem to us. A series or a movie must already be simmering in her head, with its characters showing off their iPads and staring at their flat screens: absurdly antiquated and dated, they will seem, but so touching in their aspiration to the absolutely modern. Forty years from now, we’ll know, at last, how we looked and sounded and made love, and who we really were. It will be those stroller children’s return on our investment, and, also, of course, a revenge taken on their time. ♦
Is it possible to quantify our life through a series of conditions and events? What are the aspects of life that are responsible in making us ourselves? Does buying a pre-owned item gives one the legal right to another individual’s genetic data? Can mouse models of ourselves help us prepare for possible futures or will it impose them on us? Will we make different choices Re-living the same life? Can a mouse be Elvis? What makes you believe it can be?
I would argue that it’s actually the “frozen” nature of these digital spaces that marks the passage of time; we can see — very clearly in many cases — the point at which they stopped changing and were marked by what is now our past. If a ruined physical space is a memento mori, abandoned digital space is more like a time capsule: a place in which the future has simply never happened. These spaces are atemporal, then, in that they give us a vivid glimpse of our own past that we can experience in the present and perhaps extrapolate forward into an imagined future — but because they aren’t ruined, we don’t imagine that future in the same way.
Changes in the neurochemistry of traders was first noted as an effect of the risk mechanisms in the brain early in the century. The traders on board the Arktika were employees of the worlds most demanding and simultaneously rewarding trading system. They developed extreme emotional imbalances outside of their work resulting ultimately in a policy of isolated residency aboard and urgent study of ways to stabalise their neuro-biology with the establishing of neuro-genetics laboratory on board. Later, the first growths developed on traders as chemical changes forced keratin cells in the epidermis to fuse. The pattern of the growths were influenced by the intensity of the chemical changes in the brain, themselves reflections of trading activity. Depending on the experience, age and stability of the trader the compound growths could extend up to 300mm without any side effects. The growths became objects of intense study from corporate geneticists hoping to gain some insight into this melding of man and market.
I do believe that we are now in uncharted waters when it comes to the dysfunction in our political system — and it is no longer a joking matter…we have lost the ability to execute even the basic functions of government, much less solve the most difficult and divisive problems facing the country. Thus, I am more concerned than I have ever been about the state of American governance.
And that is exactly it. The continous partial everywhere is the aspatial experience of simultaneity in immediate media. I am in the city where my friends are at the same as the one where I am myself. The city for me is no longer only a city in space, but now also a city in time. An aspatial city, without distances, in a kind of aspace.
The ghost towns of China, Ireland and Spain - full of large empty house estates - may be a phenomenon that is on its way to Africa.
Built for people who never move in, they leave those who did with a worthless property they cannot sell. Spanning 5,000 hectares (12,355 acres), the development is the largest of several new “satellite cities” being constructed by Chinese firms around Angola, and it is believed to be one of the largest new-build projects on the continent.
If China goes on to repeat the mission 60 or so years after the original, it would prove what? To my mind, it would represent a poverty of imagination, not riches. It would be one of a long line of Chinese efforts to “catch up” with the West. While it makes sense to try to catch up to the best in auto or airplane manufacturing, merely trying to repeat the glories of the American success program would be a step backward.
The U.S. Apollo moon program ended early because of the cost and because of a lack of purpose. Americans hit golf balls on the moon and drove around in lunar jalopies – cars and golf being two American obsessions. What would Chinese astronauts do differently? Play ping pong?
” —SF is no longer about the future as such, because “we have no future” that we can do thought experiments about, only futures, which bleed all over the page, soaking the present. (Cognitive estrangement is us.) In 2003, SF stories can no longer fruitfully be defined as texts which extrapolate particular outcomes from particular “nows”; such stories that are published as SF are, in fact, nostalgia blankets: Instant Collectibles.
–William Gibson, Pattern Recognition
Speculative Fiction, Atemporality, and Augmented Reality » Cyborgology
If postmodernism is dead, where are we now? Are we living in post-postmodernism? No. We’ve gone back to the future.
Imagine the future. It’s gleaming and space-age. It’s bright and modern, minimal, functional, and new. Except this isn’t the future at all. It’s the past.
A little over half a century ago, someone decided the future would look gleaming and space age. We’ve been playing catch-up ever since. Sixty years on, this promised future hasn’t arrived. Despite this, it still has the power to influence contemporary design.