Today I was doing a task at work when I wrote the year 2020. The first thought in my brain was, “Will I still be alive then?” I mean in my awareness that’s the future. Except…it’s only 8 years away. 8 years ago? It was 2004. Also, I think I’m stuck in 1998. I have no concept of my age. Hell, I’d barely know what day of the week it was if it weren’t for work.
Yes, I will most likely in fact be alive in 2020. I’d only be 46. Good lord. If I’m still single at that age I might just end it all. Yes, I know that’s a terrible thing to say and shouldn’t say it, but that’s how I feel. Of course, I used to say that about the age of 30, but here I am still alive and breathing.
Regardless, is anyone working on the stuff those movies and TV shows used to promise us would be a part of our daily lives in the future? OK, I don’t really want a flying car, but I would like a self-driving one since a personal driver doesn’t seem to be on the agenda for me. Heck, I’d even take one of those killer robots from I, Robot if it would clean the house for me and do some cooking once in a while.
What do storytellers say about the future now? I mean we’ve been to the moon and Mars. Is Avatar supposed to be a futuristic story? Lame. It looked like it barely had a story, just a bunch of blue creatures running around while the audience was awed by the special effects.
We really need those flying cars to help humanity thin the herd. People can barely drive when cars are on the ground, so I’m hoping all the idiots on the road kill each other while in the air.
As long as they don’t kill me in the process, that will be fine.