Humanity’s biggest problem, according to this guy, is our collective inability to comprehend the implications of logarithmic scales. Anyone think he’s wrong about any of this? I would really be relieved to learn that he is.
Science fiction author and podcaster
Humanity’s biggest problem, according to this guy, is our collective inability to comprehend the implications of logarithmic scales. Anyone think he’s wrong about any of this? I would really be relieved to learn that he is.
Alpha alums once again rocked this year’s Dell Magazines Award. Congrats to Sarah Miller, who placed first runner-up, and to Jeanette Westwood, Elena Gleason, and Lara Donnelly, who all received honorable mentions. By the way, the deadline for this summer’s Alpha workshop is coming up soon, so get those applications in ASAP.
Here are two interesting thought experiments I came across on Wikipedia:
So on a recent Saturday afternoon I was doing my daily walk downtown when I noticed that someone had left their keys sitting on a window ledge. I have enormous sympathy for people who walk off and forget things, as doing so is one of my major pastimes. I sat down on the ledge and examined the keys. The key ring contained a car key, a car locker/unlocker thingy, a miniature purple flip-flop, a miniature wooden manta ray, and various store bar-code cards — Border’s, a vitamin store, a dress store. It occurred to me that maybe I could walk over to Border’s — which was only a block away — and have them scan the card and find out who the keys belonged to. But I didn’t want to move the keys in case their owner came back for them. I waited around for fifteen minutes or so and nobody showed up to claim the keys, so I decided to pop over to Border’s and give it a shot. The girl at the desk seemed kind of annoyed and said they couldn’t get any information off the card. I couldn’t understand why she seemed annoyed. She said, “There’s nothing we can do. You’ll have to turn them in somewhere.” I said, “Like where?” She shrugged and said, “The police?” I said, “Okay.”
I walked back to the ledge where I’d found the keys and sat there, trying to decide what to do. I noticed that the wooden manta ray had an unfamiliar word carved on its underside. Now I can’t remember what the word was. It sounded sort of like “oblivio.” Very mysterious. Key owner Cthulhu cultist? I wondered. I sat around for another fifteen minutes or so. Finally a middle-aged guy and his wife walked by, and the guy said, “So you found those keys too?” I said, “Yeah.” He said, “I was thinking, we could take them over to Border’s and … ” I shook my head and said, “Nah, I just tried that.” He said, “Oh,” shrugged, and wandered off. I started to wonder if the keys had been sitting here all day, and if all day people had been taking them over to Border’s, getting nowhere, and then putting the keys back where they’d found them, which might explain the annoyed tone of the Border’s girl. I was loathe to just leave the keys there. If I did, how long would the keys just keep going back and forth to Border’s? And might not they fall into the hands of one of the many sketchy characters downtown? And what if their owner had no idea where to look for them?
It occurred to me that there was a city hall/police station building just a few blocks away. I could walk over there and see what they said. I waited around a few more minutes, then did that. I walked through the main doors of city hall and … there was no one at the front desk. I figured they must’ve just stepped out for a minute. I waited around for ten minutes, fifteen, twenty. I located a board that indicated the public desk for the police department was on the ground floor, so I wandered around the ground floor. The place was absolutely deserted. The council chamber was empty, the door to the police station was locked. I wandered upstairs, but encountered only locked doors. I heard no one. What the hell? Had there been a bomb threat? Chemical weapon attack? I was getting frustrated. It was seeming more and more likely that the key owner would return looking for her (I presume) keys while I was wandering around this empty building. I started wishing I’d just left the keys where I’d found them. Then it occurred to me that the public library was adjacent to city hall, and that they might know what to do. I walked back out the front doors and into the plaza. Then I decided that before continuing this wild goose chase I might as well use the public restroom in the lobby. So I turned around and tried the door … and it was locked. Weird. I tried the door next to it. Also locked. And the one next to that. Also locked. Only one of the four doors was unlocked, the one I’d used on the way in. It suddenly struck me that someone had neglected to lock that door, and that I probably really wasn’t supposed to be in City Hall on a Saturday to begin with. I wondered if there was all sorts of security cam footage of me wandering around in the city council chambers, etc. Whoops.
I circled the building and encountered another entrance — for the police department public desk. The door was locked, but there was a phone. I eyed the surveillance camera pointed at me. Oh, what the hell. I’d already spent over an hour on this. I picked up the phone and said, “Hi. I found someone’s keys on a bench near here, and I was wondering if you guys have like a lost and found or some…” The voice on the phone said curtly, “Name?” “Um…” I said. Headlines flashed through my mind: LOCAL DUMBASS ARRESTED FOR KEY THEFT AND CITY HALL TRESPASSING. “Um…” I said. Come on, I thought. They’re not going to arrest you. And even if they do, think of what an awesome blog post it would make. So: “David Kirtley,” I said. “K-I-R-T-L-E-Y.” “Phone number?” said the voice. I supplied it, then proceeded to describe how I’d found the keys. “You’re at the red phone?” said the voice. “Uh … yeah,” I said. The voice said, “We’re sending over a car.” “Um … great,” I said, and hung up.
Some minutes later a car pulled up and a uniformed officer got out. I gave him the keys and explained where I’d found them. He said he’d try walking around the area pushing the unlock door button and see if he could locate the car. If he had the car, he could run its plates and find out who the car belonged to. He thanked me and drove off. So I still don’t know if they keys ever got back to their rightful owner, or why the hell someone had a manta ray keychain ornament with the word “oblivio” (or whatever) carved on it.
Tor.com is sponsoring a zombie photo caption contest. The winner receives a copy of the zombie anthology The Living Dead (which includes my story “The Skull-Faced Boy”) as well as a copy of the zombie-themed team-based shooter Left 4 Dead.
Bigger Stronger Faster is an extremely entertaining and thought-provoking documentary about competitiveness in American society as viewed through the lens of three brothers who are into bodybuilding and who struggle with whether or not to take steroids. The film has received a 97% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes. If you have Netflix, it’s one of the instant downloads. Check it out. |
Here’s the trailer:
My grandfather Roger Barr passed away early this morning at the age of 98. He was my mom’s father, and was my last surviving grandparent. He was being cared for by my uncle Steve (his son) and aunt Denice — both medical professionals — and was still sharp and good-humored in his final days. Yesterday […]