(no subject)
Yet another reason H.G. Wells was so fucking awesome. In The Conquest of Time--a rewrite of a previous book of his--published in 1942, he predicted the future, most notably the internet, didn't he?:
"[Man] can contrive urban and suburban roads that will carry him at his ease to air-port, sea-port, or wherever he wants to be--he need not follow them, for they will carry him; before very long, he will be able to summon everything there is to be seen, every machine, every show, every living thing, every masterpiece and movement, in its utmost vitality and in any detail, to his study table; he can hear all the music in the world, and, if he wants to do so, all life's edifying discords. All this he will be able do do whenever he chooses to do it as a species. For all this we have chapter and verse. The experiments have been made; the samples pass muster...
These are man's present possibilities; and without haste and without delay he can complete his material conquest. He will soon be able to talk to anyone anywhere, be withing help of everyone, and laugh at the tides and seasons that once chased his hunted heart-beats round the year."
Zounds.
"[Man] can contrive urban and suburban roads that will carry him at his ease to air-port, sea-port, or wherever he wants to be--he need not follow them, for they will carry him; before very long, he will be able to summon everything there is to be seen, every machine, every show, every living thing, every masterpiece and movement, in its utmost vitality and in any detail, to his study table; he can hear all the music in the world, and, if he wants to do so, all life's edifying discords. All this he will be able do do whenever he chooses to do it as a species. For all this we have chapter and verse. The experiments have been made; the samples pass muster...
These are man's present possibilities; and without haste and without delay he can complete his material conquest. He will soon be able to talk to anyone anywhere, be withing help of everyone, and laugh at the tides and seasons that once chased his hunted heart-beats round the year."
Zounds.