Don't become a Solarian

By Raanan Geberer
Originally published in Brooklyn Daily Eagle, November 2012

Back in the 1980s, I used to write back-cover and inside-front-cover blurbs for science fiction and fantasy books. And of course, I had to read the books, or at least the first half of them, so that I would know what I was writing about.
One of the books I had to write these notes for was Isaac Asimov’s “Foundation and Earth.” It concerned a race of people known as the Solarians, who came from Earth to settle the planet Solaria. Over the centuries, the Solarians became more and more isolated from each other.
By the time the explorers who were the heroes of the book landed on Solaria, the inhabitants lived on isolated estates, served by hundreds of robots, and had very little contact with each other. Indeed, they developed a powerful aversion to being in the same room with another human, and met each other only for very special purposes.
They did everything — trade with each other, carry on friendships, learn new subjects — by holographic projections (the Internet barely existed, except for a handful of hobbyists, when the book was published).
There was one problem: the birth rate kept declining, for obvious reasons. Eventually, the rulers of Solaria solved that problem by eliminating natural reproduction altogether and reproducing by human cloning.
We haven’t gotten to that point yet, but much of the book has come true. We trade with each other over the Internet, take courses over the Internet, communicate with friends over the Internet, and increasingly get our entertainment from the Internet.
Not so long ago, the local bookstore, the local record store, the local video store were not only places to buy books, CDs and so forth — they were places to hang out, meet friends, discuss new releases. Now, the human element has been cut out.
As far as work is concerned, some people already work completely in front of their terminals, and have no contact with their “co-workers” or supervisors except in cyberspace. More such “workplaces” are sure to follow.
There’s nothing wrong with the Internet. It's made communication between people in different parts of the country much easier. It's made it possible to subscribe to magazines without filling out annoying forms and sealing envelopes, it’s made it easier for people with unusual interests who may feel isolated in their immediate surroundings to seek out others with the same interests.
You can send photos to friends with the click of a mouse without having to first wait for the drugstore to develop those photos, and you can find out about train delays without having to wait a half-hour on the phone.
But remember — the Internet was created to serve people, not the other around.
It originally had a very specific purpose — to link educational institutions so that research and information could be exchanged quickly. It was never supposed to do everything. If people rely too much on the Internet, what happens in the event of a catastrophe, when it goes down. Can people even survive without it?
There’s nothing wrong with keeping your friends’ and relatives’ contact information on the Internet, but if that’s the only place it exists, with no paper backup, you may be asking for trouble. When the Internet first came along, people did preserve backups — for example, they kept their typewriters in a closet — but as time went on, they ceased to feel the need for them.
Also in back the 1980s, I remember a news story about a man who resolved not to leave his house for a year. He was successful in some ways — he ordered food in, bought clothes by phone — but eventually had to go outside to go to the post office and buy stamps, go to the IRS office to pay taxes, and more.
The Internet has made a Solarian-type existence much more feasible. Someone who doesn’t want to leave his house for a year can easily do so, with the only trips necessary being those to take the garbage out or to go to the mailbox.
The Internet has been a great boon to mankind. But once in awhile, turn your smartphone and your computer off. Take long walks in the woods. Read a book. Listen to music. Go to the beach. Get together with someone you haven’t seen in awhile. Go to a museum. Go to an amusement park. Go to a store and browse around.
Above all — don’t become a Solarian!

Twinkies: After the supply ends?

By Raanan Geberer

Originally in Brooklyn Daily Eagle

One day, at work, I was busy typing away, when one of my co-workers whispered in my ear, “At lunch, you might to see someone on the fifth floor of your building. He has the real s----. I told him about you.”
I couldn’t wait that long. I had to have it NOW! I excused myself, went upstairs and knocked on the door, sweating and breathing heavily.
“Are you Ron?” asked a shady little man in a big hat and a long coat.
“Yes.”
‘Come in,” he said. “We’ve got to be really careful. The cops were here yesterday. We got the stuff you need.”
“Is it the REAL stuff? From Canada, or Mexico?”
“No,” he said, “Our shipments got messed up. But my man down in Florida made it, according to the original recipe. He used to be a meth dealer, but now he finds doing this more profitable.”
The man ushered me into his backroom. There, on the table, were about 100 of the golden-colored cakes, stacked on top of each other. Several nondescript middle-aged women, most of whom appeared to be immigrants, were packing them into glassine envelopes.
I paid the man $100, and ate two or three of them as fast as I could. The man looked at me with amusement. He knew he had me. But this wasn’t enough—there was something else I needed.
“Thanks for the Twinkies,” I said, “but I can’t take that much of a rush. I need some Snowballs to bring me down. Do you have any?”
Without a word, he ushered me into another room. I began to grab a Snowball, when he grabbed my arm.
“Just one, m-------r!” he said, pulling out a knife. “We’re running out of them. These are expensive, you know!”
I gave him another hundred dollars. Biting into the Snowball’s marshmallow exterior, I felt a supreme joy—a joy the average person will never know.
I read yesterday that another company is buying the rights to Twinkies, Snowballs, and Hostess orange-colored cupcakes. Soon, I’ll be just another American. But until then, I’ll be an addict, a creature of night, another slave to the sugary goo that has ruined so many people’s lives.

November 19, 2012 - 3:39pm