Because you need this on a Monday, here is a picture of a Scottish bagpiper serenading a penguin in the Antarctic in 1904 (click to embiggen):
I’ve written about the squirrel wars twice before, though not since 2007. I see no reason to assume that they have backed off. In fact, the above picture, taken just in my neighborhood, shows quite the opposite. They are, if anything, even more dangerous. Just the other day, in fact, a squirrel in Oregon caused a power outage that affected thousands of people!
Keep an eye out, citizens. The world is full of squirrels, and it is a dangerous place because of them.
Once again, Jennifer and I will be participating in National Novel Writing Month. That is to say, in November we will both commit to writing a 50,000 word original novel. This year I’ll be working on The Book of Jonah, a comedic modern retelling of… well, of the Book of Jonah from the Bible. Jonah has always struck me as the funniest of the Biblical prophets, and, while other writers have taken him on as their subject matter, it’s high time that someone did a modern take, with the sense of humor that marks the original tale.
Jennifer, of course, will be working on something entirely secret and esoteric. She may share some details with you as she goes along. Or she may not. She’s mysterious, that one.
At any rate, this means that once again we’re hoping to attend the Night of Writing Dangerously, an annual event held in San Francisco where hundreds of NaNoWriMo participants gather to spend the night writing. It’s basically a write-a-thon. And, as always, we’re raising money to do so; our goal this year is $375. Donations go straight to National Novel Writing Month’s Young Writers Program, which is a fantastic program aimed at getting kids ages 17 and younger to get writing and get their creative juices flowing. What could be spiffier than that? Our nephew has participated in this program, and we’re both mighty proud of him.
So to make a tax-deductible donation, click on the logo below, or on the “Night of Writing Dangerously” logo in the left navigation bar of my blog. Or you can click here! It’s all good. We would greatly appreciate it! And if you make a donation of $50 or more, I’ll be sure to include your name in The Book of Jonah somehow. Since I plan on putting the novel online as I write it, you’ll get to see your name in pixels. How exciting! No, really!
Anyway. Thanks. We both appreciate it your donation.
Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.
-Sir Arthur C. Clarke (1917-2008)
The Quest is a reality show of sorts that runs on Thursday nights on ABC. It’s not a typical reality show like The Biggest Loser or The Bachelor or Survivor XXIV: Pebble Beach. Instead of twelve contestants locked in a gym or on a desert island or in a room with a narcissistic bachelor, the contestants are placed in a pseudo-medieval setting, complete with a queen, a Vizier (whose job is apparently to sneer at everything), mages, monsters, and so on. Challenges involve tasks such as hunting down dragon tears for the antidote to a poison that has been administered to the queen and swordfighting. Really, it’s more like LARPing than like a real reality show. It’s a very silly show, but Jennifer and I are actually enjoying it.
Watching this has made me think of the “Three Laws of Prediction” as formulated by science fiction writer Sir Arthur C. Clarke, the third of which I’ve quoted above (I had to look up the first two laws, which hardly anyone knows, but the third one is pretty famous). In “The Quest” there are a few elements of anachronistic “magic” which are really just commonplace technologies. The “fire orbs” which the participants had to hunt for in a recent episode were magical devices that glowed with an inner light, but in “real life” they were simply glass jars with a fluorescent liquid inside of them. In the Hall of Fates (where the participants must be judged for their actions and one of them voted off the show), the visages of previously banished contestants hover against a high, dark wall; though they are obviously just projections from a hidden source.
I find this use of modern technology to replicate magical effects pretty fascinating. It puts me in mind of an amusing post I saw on Facebook some time back. I wish I could track down the source, but like all things Facebook, the source is sadly lost to history. The post goes something like this:
How would you describe modern technology to a visitor from, say, the 1800s?
“I possess, in my pocket, a device which allows me access to all the world’s knowledge at the touch of a finger. I use it to look at pictures of cats and get into arguments with strangers.”
When you consider that you can actually speak to Siri in your iPhone, or to Google in your Android device, it becomes even more fantastical. With ChromeCast or AppleTV you can use your phone to control your television or other devices. In short, your pocket device makes you the equivalent of a wizard.
Amazing, isn’t it? I can’t imagine describing modern technology to someone from the 1800s (or even the early to mid 1900s), let alone someone from medieval Europe. If a sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic, then what would such a time traveling visitor think of our times? And what sorts of technology are yet to come that we can’t conceive of, that we would think magical ourselves?
All this, of course, has made me come up with an idea for a new novel. This annoys me, because it’s a very shiny idea, and I am already committed to finishing Code Monkey. No, you cannot have this idea. I’m hoarding it. Someday — probably in 2016 — I’ll be able to write it.