The future sucks.
I’m 30 years old and don’t own a hoverboard, laser gun, flying car, teleportation device—or any of that cool shit.
Everyone should own a laser gun by now. What the hell? I own a few swords, but give me a break! Those were invented…many years ago. I’m not talking about a fancy lightsaber, either! I’m talking about old fashioned steel.
Something ain’t right.
Usually by the year 2100 A.D. (according to science-fiction) humanity has amassed enough cleverness to at least architect space colonies. So…we have 85 measly years to blast ourselves into outer space. Great. Fantastic. We better get our ass in gear! At this rate, well, humanity will be rockbound forever. No fun.
I’m not impressed with screens.
Yes—screens. We live in what I like to call “The Screen Age”. Everything is all about the magical touch screen. Sorry. I’m not impressed. If someone told me back in 1989 that the future was going to be about touch screens and cell phones, I would have cried myself to sleep. Every night.
I want laser guns! Flying fucking cars! Teleportation devices! At this rate all of humanity will be rockbound until the Sun bloats into a red giant star. Hey! At least we’ll have our fancy screens, right? We can take selfies as we melt from the insidious ultra-violet radiation. Doesn’t that sound fantastic? That’s a future I can’t wait for.
…Yeah. What a bunch of shit.
Imagine if we had real technology. No longer would we need to manipulate a vehicle on a two-dimensional surface. No longer would we have to worry about being late. No longer would we have to worry about getting blasted with .38 special—although getting blasted with a laser gun wouldn’t be a better alternative…I think.
Instead…we have screens…which people use to send images of their private parts.
I understand: our cell phones are capable of many neat tricks. You know what I want? I want my shoes to tie themselves, damn it!
No fair! Marty McFly has all the cool shit.
What century is this? 21? I sometimes forget. You know why? Because of all this weak sauce tech. When a cellphone is able to be beamed straight into our retina, then that will be the day I may start to care about cellphones.
Cellphones are not lasers guns.
Or teleportation devices.
I suppose the future lied to us. What do we have? Pockets full of Apple products? Yeah—I’m not impressed. If an alien beamed down from the cosmos and asked to trade my cellphone for his (her) space car, I would gladly relinquish that electronic tumor. Gladly.
What’s more appealing? Texting your private parts? Or laying skid marks across the cosmos? I’ll leave that up to you to decide.
Based on the movies and literature, we should be planet hopping by now! We should have flung ourselves straight out of the Milky Way! I’m talking about ludicrous speed! Shit…we don’t even have ridiculous speed.
But, hey, at least we can text our junks to one and another, right?
Right now all we have to hope for is a thinner cellphone with a larger screen. What are we going to do when we design the optimal cellphone geometry? We better be beaming the shit into our eyeballs, or I have serious doubts for the longevity of humankind.
To be fair: cellphones have changed our lives. Information in the form of bleepity bloops and electronic gargle—all within a finger swipe away. Yet, I’m still not impressed. Appreciated, yes, but not impressed. I would give up my cell phone for a laser gun. Wouldn’t you? Don’t lie. If an interstellar merchant asked to trade with you, I bet you would fork over that glass and silicon for a nice, shiny laser gun!
What about teleportation?
We should be able to step one some kind of pad and be transported to our destination. This is basic, fundamental, future stuff!
Needless to say, humanity has dropped the ball on this one. We’re still suckin‘ on exhaust like it’s being spewed from a pollution hog’s tit.
They say that it’s not the destination, it’s the journey. That’s all fine and dandy, but let’s not forget: we are pathetic mortals. Imagine how much of your life has been wasted trying to get from point A to point B. I’m talking about alllllll those annoying trips to your local food mart. You mean to tell me it’s all about the journey in this context? Ha.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve always been a destination-minded-kind of-person. Who cares how fun the journey is if you’re riding a handbasket straight to Hell? There could be all sorts of amusement parks along the way, joyous roadside attractions, whore houses—it doesn’t matter. You can’t tell me in the back of your mind you wouldn’t be thinking about Hell the whole. Damn. Ride.
Imagine if you could just…teleport to Hell. Wouldn’t that ease your suffering? Yes? No? Perhaps?
IF a space merchant decided to be generous and allowed me to have one of the following:
I think I would choose the laser gun—I’ll explain why.
The flying car, to be honest, I would simply crash and burn.
The teleportation device wouldn’t make sense unless there were multiple teleportation devices that could receive my transmission. Which there aren’t.
That leaves the laser gun. Not to say I wouldn’t somehow blow myself up with a laser, but it’s safer than the flying car (at least for me).
Let’s assume for a moment that the teleportation device is a fancy necklace. This fancy necklace will whisk you away with a mere thought of a particular destination. If you ask me, something like that is more a magical item—not a piece of legitimate technology.
Everyone would choose the magical necklace. It makes the flying car obsolete! That’s why a true teleportation device must involve pads, gateways, etc.
Logically speaking, teleportation devices can’t be everywhere. People tell me the universe is pretty big—and I believe them. The chances of a teleportation device being somewhere beyond the orbit of Neptune is atomically minuscule (I think). That’s when a flying car would come in handy.
Imagine there was a diner on some ice ball in the Kuiper Belt. Let’s go ahead and call this place: Outer Edge Rest & Eatery. Do you think someone would relinquish the funds to install a teleportation device in the corner of that scrubby diner? Doubtful. I doubt a place like that would even have a jukebox.
Sometimes if you want a charred burger and fries—you’ll have to travel for it. I mean, really travel for it. With a flying car.