Jewish World Review April 6, 2005 / 26 Adar II, 5765

The future lied to me

By Joe Keefe

http://www.JewishWorldReview.com | My computer crashed today. Again. The third time in a year. The news of a computer problem comes as a shock to absolutely no one because every one of us has experienced a major computer crisis within the last year. Like death and taxes, computer crashes are as common as Paris Hilton home videos — if you don't already have one, you will soon.

The problem is — I'm a writer. If my computer doesn't work, I don't get paid. This is difficult to explain to the geeks who "fix" my unruly laptop. They have all the time in the world to work on my computer and will not be rushed. And because they are moderately competent, they have several million clients from which to select. They work on my machine purely out of pity. Here's a little game we play: they charge whatever they like to fix my computer and I gladly pay it. They tell me what they've done and I pretend I understand what they've said.

This is the worst part of techno-problems — dealing with the brilliant young persons who actually purport to understand how the machines work. In my case, I'm actually somewhat computer savvy. For example: I know how to shut off my computer without causing a fire. This puts me well ahead of most humans. But no matter your level of competence, one of the primary functions of your computer expert is to make you feel stupid.

My two current geeks are brilliant, competent and foreign. It's not enough that they involve me in techno-speak that would confuse Stephen Hawking; their accents are sufficiently dense that I have no idea what they are saying. This is not their fault — it's mine. If I were truly serious about computing, I'd learn their native languages. Strangely enough, they don't understand each other very well either. But one thing is certain in their worlds — I'm an idiot who doesn't know his ISP from a hole in the firewall.

Here's the point: we, the children of the 1950s and 60s, have been ripped off. By now, we were supposed to have floating cars that zipped to penthouse apartments atop high-rise spires. We were promised robotic servants who would walk our mechanical pets on treadmills attached to our gardens in the sky.

Like you, I was raised on the promise of a wondrous future as described in Star Trek, My Favorite Martian and The Jetsons. I firmly believed I'd be teleported from work to home, doors would open on my command and computers would speak to me in sexy, yet mechanical voices. Reality however, is a harsh mistress. My car only floats when I accidentally park in a pond; the only robot in our house is the one I couldn't build for the kids two Christmases back and our house isn't quite a penthouse in the sky; it's more like a shack in a swamp.

But never fear — we've refinanced the house to get the computer fixed. And I'm still holding out for the levitating car.