Third day of Siggraph

This was the 50th anniversary of the conference. And therefore there was a lot of talk about Moore’s Law.

Roughly speaking, every 10 years computers get about 100 times faster. Which means that after 50 years, computers have gotten about 100 trillion times faster.

Turner Whitted made the observation in a session this week that we shouldn’t be focusing on the quantitative effect of Moore’s Law. Instead, we should be focusing on the qualitative effect.

Just morning I had an experience that reaffirms this. More tomorrow.

Second day of Siggraph

Second day of the conference, and — not surprisingly — far too many things to be able to wrap my mind around it all.

But one thing is clear: The people who have been coming here the longest have the best insights about the future. I suspect that this is at least partly because it takes a few decades or more of living with Moore’s Law to be able to use it predictively.

Drunken sensors

Today I read a fascinating article. It seems that the standard process for creating nanosensors, which can electronically detect the presence of many different types of materials, involves creating connections between extremely thin layers of silicon together.

This is done by “curing” them — subjecting them to very high temperatures for 12 hours. Which is an extremely expensive process.

Apparently, while cleaning one of these sensors prior to curing, a researcher accidentally spilled a little ethanol — that’s regular drinking alcohol — on one of them. And the sensor started performing better than any of the cured sensors.

The research team then figured out that adding just the right amount of ethanol to uncured sensors– not too much, not too little — resulted in sensors which were more effective than the cured sensors method. And also a lot cheaper to make.

So apparently if you get these sensors a little drunk — but not too drunk — then they become very sensitive.

Which is a principle that Chinese poets knew centuries ago.

Worlds in miniature

I have been playing with the video pass-through mode of the Quest Pro. And one thing has started becoming clear to me.

Namely, that there is something very compelling about miniature virtual worlds that are within reach of your hands. Not that there’s anything wrong with immersion in full-size worlds.

But there’s something particularly charming and compelling about miniature worlds. I think it’s because we have a more intimate relationship with things that we can pick up and touch within our own personal space.

I predict that as mixed reality eyewear becomes something common and everyday, a lot of our virtual interaction will start moving to tabletops. Things like schedules and maps and organization charts are all going to begin showing up as three-dimensional structures that we can reach out and point to.

These will be things that you and I will simply expect to see on the table between us as we talk to each other in casual conversation. And of course we will eventually forget that it was ever any other way.

String theory

I’ve recently noticed an important strategy in my programming. It’s something I’ve always done, but until recently I wasn’t conscious of it.

This strategy could be called “finding the simplest thing”. When I need to extend the functionality of one of my interactive software systems, I look for the absolutely simplest possible case.

The idea is that if I can initially get the simplest possible thing working, then I can add fancier things later on. Because if I were to instead start out by trying something more ambitious, I might end up spending needless hours debugging.

So if I’m extending something from two dimensions to three, or adding the ability to respond to a mouse events, I look for the absolute minimal way to do that. I won’t draw two lines if one will do. I won’t respond to mouse drags if I can get away with responding only to mouse clicks.

This strategy sort of reminds me of something I learned in school about how people used to build bridges. First they would fly a kite and wait for the wind to blow it across the river.

Once they had a string going from one side to the other, they would use that to pull across a heavier line. And then use that second line to draw across a still heavier line.

Eventually they would have a thick rope going across, strong enough to support the weight of people. And then they could begin in earnest to build the bridge itself.

Digital analog clock

Today I saw a clock that looked like an old fashioned clock. I mean, it had an hour hand, a minute hand, and a moving sweep-second hand.

But it was actually a digital wall display of a clock. Behind the scenes, a computer was turning time into an animated image of black and white pixels, creating the illusion of a mechanical clock.

I pondered this very strange object for quite a while, not quite sure what to make of it. There was something unintentionally punk about the whole affair.

As near as I can figure out, somebody wanted the comfort of old-fashioned analog time-keeping. But they didn’t want the hassle of mechanical parts that can break or jam or otherwise stop working.

Which is all very valid I suppose, but the whole thing still seems to me like a semantic oxymoron. Sort of the time-keeping equivalent of “jumbo shrimp” or “same difference” or “pretty ugly”.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Sinéad and Paul

Two great artists passed away in the last week — Sinéad O’Connor and Paul Reubens. Both were taken before their time.

On the surface, they appear to be polar opposites. One was intensely serious, focusing her art on sorrow and heartbreak and fighting injustice, and the other was a wellspring of joy — a brilliant adult mind channeling the unfettered imagination of a child.

But both of them, by their very nature, were a challenge to the patriarchy. Because there are unspoken rules in our society about power and how it works.

People don’t generally talk about those rules, and may not even be consciously aware of them. But people obey the unspoken rules of power — because if they don’t, there will be trouble.

Yet neither of these two artists bowed to the unspoken authority of heterosexual male privilege. As different as they were from each other, they were defiantly unafraid to challenge its orthodoxies, and to stand up for its victims.

And for that, they were both punished. Only years later did people realize the true nature of the battle, and the power that Sinéad and Paul were up against.

So let’s celebrate them both, and raise a glass in their honor. Unearned privilege needs to be challenged, and its victims need to be acknowledged. In every generation there are too few heroes willing to take up that challenge.

Epistemological scepticism

Earlier this evening I fell asleep and had a long an elaborate dream about writing a post to this blog. Then I woke up, and realized that it was all only a dream, and that I had not actually written a blog post.

So now I am writing a blog post about having a dream about writing a blog post. Which means that this is an actual blog post.

Or perhaps this is the modern version of Chuang Tzu’s famous philosophical question: Was I a blogger dreaming that I was a blogger, or am I now really a blogger dreaming that I am a blogger?