My science fiction reading has woefully left me unprepared for the future. There is no elegant colony on the moon. There is no myriad of alien races to interact with. I have yet to jack in.
As far as I am concerned, the future has hit, and it is now. And it is weird.
I just listened to a Tuvan throat singer, presumably from siberia, sing “House of the Rising Sun.” And then I watched one of the groups videos. You have to be deeply high to make that kind of stuff. High on Globalization and the future.
And so I look back and say “Scifi authors, you just weren’t weird enough! Rudy Rucker, you’ve got to TRY HARDER.”
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