Ken’s Blog

Demion’s comment on yesterday’s post was very thought provoking. Suppose, with our future augmented reality glasses or contact lenses, we could automatically auto-correct the world around us? Bad jokes on signs would be “promoted” to good ones, visual and architectural design in questionable taste would be replaced by something more satisfying, and so on.

I suspect we won’t actually do this, and my reasoning is by analogy with what we have chosen to do in the past. As human beings, we have exactly one unquestionable super-power: Our shared ability to learn natural languages that support generative grammar. This super-power allows us to communicate with each other in incredibly powerful and subtle ways.

Consequently, the one thing we really care about is to accurately interpret the real intention behind the words and actions of other humans. We don’t always succeed at this task (far from it). Yet it is, nonetheless, the thing we care most about getting right.

After all, if we fail to understand and properly interpret the intentions of others, we find ourselves effectively cut off from other humans, and therefore from our own greatest super-power. Which is why, I posit, we will always resist technological “assistance” that could artificially reduce our ability to accurately interpret the human world around us, as flawed as that world may be.

To give an analogous example, using technology that is already familiar: When you author a document using modern word processing software, you are given the option to turn on auto-correct. If you exercise this option, your errors in spelling are automatically fixed. Also, word processing programs generally highlight questionable or awkward grammatical constructions. You then have the option to reword what you have just written.

But what we never see is document software that shows you the writing of other people with automatic corrections applied to their errors in spelling and grammar. People don’t want to see the errors of others “fixed”. They would rather see what other people actually wrote, with all the idiosyncrasies in place.

Fundamentally, we trust other peoples’ mistakes more than we trust software that might shield us from those mistakes, because what we really want to know is what was going on in the brain of that other human being.

Since we will continue to be human beings in the decades to come, with brains wired more or less the same way they have been for tens of thousands of years, I don’t see that this will change, no matter how far augmented reality technology may develop.

Today I spent much of the day in the NYC offices of a large corporation that is, commendably, ecologically aware. They have signs posted for recycling in all the appropriate places.

And consistent with NYC regulations, they break their recycling into two categories: Metal, plastic and glass in one bin, and paper in another. And therein hangs a tale.

For in their attempt to be hip, up-to-date, cutting-edge, in-the-know, they tried to reference one of the great moments in the classic MGM adaptation of Frank L. Baum’s The Wizard of Oz. Alas, they didn’t quite get it right.

Check it out for yourself. Here is a photo I took of one of their recycle bins. It essentially says, with enthusiastic fervor: “Metal and Glass and Plastic — oh my!”.

It’s almost clever. The problem is that the well-known quote they are riffing off is “Lions and Tigers and Bears — oh my!”

So if they really wanted to go there, they should have switched the last two items on their list, to keep the rhythm of the thing. If only they had written “Metal and Plastic and Glass — oh my!” — that would have made me so happy.

Am I being too demanding?

This blog has just finished two long runs on single topics — first a suite of exercises in computer graphics for non-programmers, and then the first book of a Paleolithic magical realist saga. So this seems like a good moment for a little reflection.

Unlike you, I have first-hand knowledge of the relationship between this blog and my life. The two are not independent — each one influences the other, and those influences run in both directions.

I took up the challenge of teaching computer graphics to non-programmers just before beginning a semester class teaching computer graphics to undergraduates. Putting that series of lessons up on-line allowed me to view this familiar topic with fresh eyes, as though I was just learning about it myself.

The story of Ilara was, similarly, a reflection of an event in another part of my life. My colleagues and I at NYU are currently developing an ambitious virtual reality theater piece. Our VR story centers on events that occur a generation later, and the main character is Ilara’s daughter. By writing the first book of this saga, I was able to better understand the world of that story.

Perhaps the thread that best ties together these two narratives can be expressed by that old maxim: If you really want to understand something better, try teaching it to somebody else.

Solemnly, Ilara took the necklace from the Shaman. She hesitated for a moment, and then she put it around her own neck.

And suddenly found herself in a different world.

Well, not exactly. It was the same world, only it looked different. For one thing, it had extra people in it, and mammoths too.

She looked at them more carefully. No, they weren’t people and mammoths exactly. They were something else. But what?

And then she had it. They were Spirits! She looked at the Shaman with surprise.

The Shaman smiled back. “You can see them, can’t you?” Ilara nodded, words failing her.

“You have the sight,” the Shaman continued. “I’ve never had it, and neither has anyone in our tribe for a long time. It comes back only when our people need it.”

“Actually, it comes back only when both of our tribes need it,” she heard another voice say, a much older voice. She turned to look. It was the mammoth Elder, speaking to her. And she could understand!

Then she heard a far more familiar voice. It was her mammoth friend. “And I can understand your humans too. It looks like you and I have a lot to figure out. Now that we are both Shamans.”

Ilara smiled. “Well, we can always ask the Spirits. I have a feeling there’s a lot they want to tell us.”

She reached her hand up affectionately, and touched the trunk of her fellow Shaman. Today was the end of a chapter in both their lives. But the next chapter was still waiting to be told.

End of Book I

Tomorrow, the conclusion of Book I. Just enough time for one more inspiring image from Kris Layng.

Again, please do not reproduce without permission from Kris.

Ilara smiled back. “But what did I do to change things?”

“It is not what you did,” the Elder replied, gesturing to both her and her mammoth friend, “it is who you are. You are the bridge, the way for human and mammoth to finally be able to work as one. To communicate is the greatest gift the Spirits can give us. And the two of you have given us that gift.”

Ilara was humbled. She looked into the eyes of her mammoth counterpart, the other Ilara. For a moment she saw herself looking back.

“What now?” she asked the Elder.

The Elder gestured to the Shaman. “She will show you.”

The Shaman stepped forward, and to Ilara’s surprise removed her sacred necklace. Ilara could not remember a time when the Shaman had not worn that necklace. “You must take it now,” the Shaman said.

There was complete silence. Ilara figured this was a good a time as any to speak up. “What prophecy?” she asked, genuinely curious.

The Shaman gave her an odd look. “You of course. You are the prophecy. You and your … friend.”

Ilara must have looked confused, because the tribal Elder waved the Shaman away and came over. “There are things you do not know. About our tribe, about their tribe.”

“What things?”

“It is said the human and the mammoth used to be allies, in a time when we could communicate with each other. But those times are long gone, and many no longer believed. Until you.”

She smiled down at Ilara, and for the first time Ilara noticed that the Elder had a beautiful smile.

The human Elder and Shaman took a long moment just staring at the two of them. Ilara felt odd. Only a short while ago, she would have been thrilled simply to get their attention. But now everything was all mixed up.

Both of them were looking at the girl they thought was Ilara, who was actually a mammoth. And here she was, the Ilara they really knew, except they thought she was a mammoth. Could this get any weirder?

She could tell that the human Shaman was speaking, but she couldn’t understand any of it. And then, all of a sudden, everything started to spin. Except this time she was ready for it, and she knew what to expect.

She could see the entire scene, as if from a great distance, as though all of them, the human and mammoth army, were all little toys carved in wood, stuck in the sand. And then all at once it was done.

She realized she was looking from her own eyes. It felt good to be back in her body again. Ilara gave her mammoth friend a significant look, and received one in return.

The Shaman was still speaking, and suddenly she could understand. And she was astonished at what she was hearing.

“The prophecy that was foretold,” the Shaman proclaimed. “It has come true.”

Today’s post is a beautiful illustration by Kris Layng of our story world.

Enjoy, but please do not reproduce without his permission!

Ilara was confused. Why, just in a moment, did everyone stop fighting? And why was everyone looking at the two of them?

Then she saw the chieftain of the mammoth herd making her way toward them. The chieftain was old, very old. When she walked, she walked slowly, and with deliberate care. But now she was heading straight toward the two of them, the other mammoths parting to make a path for her.

The chieftain was about to speak, when suddenly she swung her head away, and stared off into the distance. From the human tribe two figures were approaching.

Ilara strained to see who they were. At first they were hard to make out. But then she realized that they were the Elder and the Shaman from her own human tribe.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the two small figures made their way toward the mammoth herd. When they arrived at the perimeter, none of the mammoths tried to stop them. In fact, the mammoth warriors stepped deliberately aside, making way for the humans.

Suddenly Ilara realized that the human Elder and Shaman were heading straight toward her. But not just her. They were heading toward her and her friend.