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This
book is about the future of technology. In it we will
examine some of the many recent developments in a few
key fields and try, in a limited way, to forecast where they will take us
in the next fifteen years or so.
If
that sounds like a modest goal, it’s not. Technology is the dominant force of our time and probably
of all time to come. It appears in more varieties than we can count.
It changes so rapidly that no scientist or engineer can
keep up with
his own field, much less with technology in general.
It permeates and shapes our lives at every turn. We
live in technology as
fish live in the sea, and we have only a little better
chance of forecasting the details of its changes.
Yet the task is well worth undertaking. Whatever hints
we can glean about the future will help us prepare for
the changes to come. Modest forecasts, evidence of trends, a few concrete
developments to be expected all are better than no warning
at all. And though technology has made the present much
less stable than the past, and surely will make the future
more turbulent still, there is good reason to hope that our lives, in sum and
on average, will be better as a result. In
an age of uncomfortable challenges,
this is reassurance we all can
use.
For
an idea of what is to come—in magnitude if not in specifics—look
to the past. In the last ninety years, the
world has shrunk, while human experience
has expanded almost beyond the recognition
of those who grew up in our grandparents’
generation.
A century after America’s
founders conceived their agrarian democracy, nearly all
their descendents still lived
on small farms. Since World War I, technology has extracted
us from behind horse-drawn plows and plugged us into assembly
lines and offices. Today it is removing many of us from
offices and letting us work
at home or compelling us to work on the road.
As recently
as 1920, the average American baby could expect to live
only fifty-four years. By the early 1990s, average life
expectancy in the
United States had climbed to seventy-five years, seventy-two
for men and neatly seventy-nine for women. In the next
twenty years, life expectancy
may well rise again, even more steeply. This time it will
climb, not only for the newborn but for those already
well into adulthood.
In transportation
and communications, the changes have been even more pronounced.
As recently as World War
two, the average American lived and died
within 38 miles (61 kilometers) of his
birthplace. For New Yorkers, the radius was only 17.5
miles (28 kilometers), as far as the subway
ran. Information from the outside came by newspaper, radio, or word
from the traveler’s mouth; it moved intermittently and
often arrived only after long delay. In
1945, when the first
atomic bomb fused the sand of Alamogordo,
New Mexico, the shot was not heard around the world;
rumors of a massive explosion in the desert were
easily contained. Only a half century later,
someone born in Massachusetts is more likely than not
to attend college in Chicago, find a job
in Seattle, vacation
in Mexico, and retire in Florida. News from London, Moscow, Sarajevo,
and Pyongyang arrives instantly on CNN
and, for growing numbers of people, on personal computers
fed by the Internet. From our offices
in suburban Virginia and rural New Hampshire,
Paris, Singapore,
Buenos Aires ,
and Sydney are all as close as Washington and Boston,
none more distant than the few
steps to the computer. Around the globe, we will spend
the
rest of our lives
finding things to say to people we will never
meet in person. Thus far, shared interests have proved
easy to find.
Email:bjhyw@163.com
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