Science Fiction

In Ray Bradbury's short story "The Veldt," two children play in their "nursery," a sort of home holodeck where they can conjure up any scene in which to play. Bradbury always had a wonderfully clunky sort of technobabble; in this case, as the father tells the mother, "it's all dimensional superreactionary, supersensitive color film and mental tape film behind glass screens. It's all odorophonics and sonics, Lydia. Here's my handkerchief." Naturally, the nursery never shipped. It's not a real thing, and there's no mental tape film in 3M's labs. But Bradbury wasn't an engineer, and his story isn't a patent application. It was a work of imagination — yet still guided by a sense of the practical. Most concept devices, like last week's eye-mounted display from Google, are works of imagination, and are usually good or bad concepts according to how well they manage the aspect of practicality. Sometimes they're dead ends, pie in the sky. But often works of imagination are crystallizations of collective fear and desire: manifest destiny, in this case, for an industry.

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