Διαβάστε ένα γράμμα που όλοι θα μπορούσαμε να έχουμε γράψει…
This is not an easy letter to write. You know I love you very much, and I’ve always been a huge fan of yours. But this is getting ridiculous, Science. It’s 2013.
I want you to know that I am not writing this letter from the moon right now. I want you acutely aware of that fact, Science, just in case you weren’t sure. I am not writing this from a robot-proof bunker deep beneath the Earth’s crust, or from the captain’s chair aboard my starship. This letter is being composed on my four-year-old laptop, aboard the U.S.S “my living room reclining chair.”
I don’t mean to pressure you, but we are way behind schedule here. Yes, I know you’re working very hard, and sure, you’ve been doing some great things. But seriously? Where’s my flying car? Where’s my immortality pill, my moonbase, my affordable jetpack? Is it not 2013? Do I have my dates mixed up? Because if it’s 2013, this crap should all be old news.
We were supposed to have robots by now. You know that, right? Siri and my Keurig don’t count. I’m talking reliable, friendly robot butlers. They were supposed to be here. Look around you, Science. Do you see any friendly robot butlers? Because I don’t.
We have the Roomba. That’s it. The Roomba is not exciting. It doesn’t talk, it doesn’t fetch, it doesn’t plot mankind’s demise. It just get’s stuck in the same corner under my couch every day and revs its little engine until I save it or the battery dies. This is not acceptable.
Seriously, Science. Where are the robots? Why am I still bathing myself? Why am I still using my own hands to turn on my house lights? Why am I still physically lifting a fork to my mouth in order to eat food? Can we please get the ball rolling here?
Maybe I’m focusing too much on the negatives. I hear your latest Mars rover is doing well. That’s great to hear, congratulations. Honestly, very impressive stuff, Science. But if it were up to me, I’d be teleporting to Mars to get pizza on my lunch break.
My co-workers and I would be standing around the hovering watercooler, and I’d say, “Anybody in the mood for a moon slice?” And they’d say “Nah, I’m not feeling thin crust, let’s make a quick run to Mars.” This is literally all that I think about, Science. I get an incredibly small amount of work done.
Listen. I know I’m being a bit harsh. But is it really too much to ask for a little bit more future in my present? I’ll accept a lack of time machines, but you have to give me something. Brain chips, instantaneous limb regeneration, a sentient refrigerator; anything.
Just help me out, Science. Throw me a bone. Make it a hologram if you want.
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