23 May 2006

Futurists

I'm stuck somewhere between worlds, just like you are. We are hurtling somewhere, riding the Big Blue Marble at vast speed in space and time.

Some of it is measurable. You could probably find it on the Internet, the precise rotational speed and trajectory of the planet. We are pretty sure where we are going, even if we do not quite know what shape we are going to be in when we get there.

That is the sticking point, and that is precisely why I navigated across town on clogged K Street, dodging buses and lobbyists to get to Georgetown from the Bus Station where I work.

I had mixed feelings. The last thing I wanted to do was stay out late, even if it was at the Four Seasons, Washington's only five-star hotel. You would think there would be more of them, in the capital of the Free World, but that is the way it is.

The status of the place makes paying $13 for vodka-and-tonic in the lobby bar worth it, if only to see the heads of state arriving in their motorcades out front. I just can't afford to do it very often, and this engagement, accepted in the past about a date in the future in which the fatigue of the present was not so palpable, is precisely what the dinner was about.

The Futurists were holding a soiree of influential thought leaders to conduct a dialogue on what was going to transpire in human affairs as the planet hurtles through space.

The latter is knowable, while the former is a matter of conjecture, pure or otherwise.

I don't consider myself a thought leader of anything in particular. My biggest thought was that I was going to miss the two-hour season conclusion of the TV thriller “24.” I was hoping that Keifer Sutherland was going to unmask the crooked President and bring him to justice. The Futurists, for their part, had a new book out which attempts to describe the new economy, and the implications of its impact on our lives.

The Futurists got my name from a conference that the Labs sent me to because no one else was available, which is pretty much the story of everything interesting that has happened in my life.

But as I drove to the future, I heard something disquieting about my past. The radio announcer's voice was dulcet toned and a lot more sanguine that I was as she read the story. Apparently some bone-head at the Veteran's Administration took some work home on a lap-top to maximize his productivity.

The work- which was stolen along with the lap-top- included my name, date of birth, social security number and disability rating. That is normally enough to open a line of credit, or purchase a home. And it wasn't just my stuff. It was also 27 million others, everyone who served in the armed forces since 1975.

They say the thieves probably don't know what they got, or how valuable the database could be in the wrong hands. If so, the news has certainly given them a clue by this morning.

I must say the soiree provided enough energy to dispel my fatigue. The cocktails on the patio by the C&O canal were wonderful, the dying light luminous. The hors d'eourves were wonderful. Maybe it was the fact that the dinner was on Monday kept attendance down, or perhaps there was a crisis somewhere in the world that had caused some cancellations. It was the National Gecurity guests that were no-shows, and if that gave me a few extra minutes to bask in the reflected fame of the Futurist, that was OK with me.

The table talk, when we got to it, was about new ways of doing business. There was a noted economist, and a former Congressman, and another commercial spook from a company we had considered purchasing.

Perhaps it was the other way around. My knowledge of the recent past tends to get muddled. There was an executive from a hospitality chain, who was relentlessly upbeat, and a former Information Technology chief who was now going to bring broadband Internet connectivity to rural America through the existing power lines.

That is a future I warmed up to. Then I could have my laptop and plug into the web anywhere, even out in the country with a clear field of fire to see anyone coming at you. That was appealing. Maybe there could be life away from this bustling city, and the open spaces would not feel so claustrophobic.

The Futurist has a reputation as something of an optimist. In his futures, things are unexpected but not necessarily untoward.

It did not seem that way as we got to the dessert and coffee. The talented young scientists from South Asia are still coming here, but they are leaving as soon as they can to go home, or go to London. The inescapable conclusion was that the Nation had passed its zenith, and the trajectory no longer upward.

The food was great, but when the Futurist told parables from his book, I found myself getting depressed.

I did not have a chance to insert my last observation, since everyone wanted to get themselves on the record. I thought to myself that Britain had felt a little shabby when the Empire went away, and times were hard for a while. Things seem to be working out pretty well for them at the moment. London is where the smart money was going. Even the dirt-poor Ireland of my ancestors is now freshly washed, sleek and profitable.

Standing out in front of the hotel waiting for the valet to bring my car, I watched a minister of defense from an African state disembark his limousine. He seemed pretty confident about his future. After all, he was staying at the Four Seasons. Perhaps his planning horizon is nearer than mine, only extending to the next coup, and retirement in the south of France.

As I drove off, I thought about the identity theft at the VA. That is going to cost me some sleepless time in the future, this harvest of information from my past. Constant vigilance will be required.

It is certainly going to require a daily look at my credit report. That helped to cheer me up. It is good to have a little certainty about the future.

Copyright 2006 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com

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