A post about the distributed version control system “git” in two parts.

Part One: Git Puns

My identi.ca buddy madalu and frequent commenter here posted a few weeks ago the following notice:

#ubuntu-one… No thanks! I’ll stick with my home-brewed git + server + usb drive solution. My git repos breed like rabbits!

Which basically sums up my opinion on ubuntuone. But I thought that the “my git repos breed like rabbits” was both accurate (git repositories are designed to be replicated in their entirety), and a sort of funny way to put it. And being the kind of person that I am, I decided to see what other (potentially dirty) puns I could make about git. Here’s what I came up with:

what did one git repo say to another git repo? pull my diff

what did mama git say when she found her remote in his room making new branches? octopus merge this instant!

what did one git remote say to entice another remote to branch? it’s ok we can just tell them we were cherry picking later.

what did dr. git say when a repo complained of bloating? git gc

I should point out that these four puns all demonstrate a factual feature of git, though the “pull my diff” isn’t exactly what happens.

“Octopus Merge” is the method that git uses when there are a lot of divergent branches (more than three) that need to be merged together. Similarly “cherry picking” is a way to manually select what changes get merged together if you’re not ready to do full merges, and git gc is the cleanup script that goes through and re-compresses and prunes the database so that your repo works faster and with less disk space.

Anyway, I’m out of puns, you all are welcome to join in.

Part Two: Atypical uses of Git.

I’m sure I’ve written a bunch here about how I’m not really a programmer, and while this is true I do use git a lot. In part I think this is because git is really mostly an ad-hoc file system and also given how I write, the kind of writing I do isn’t that different from programming.

So aside from storing my writing projects, and my orgmode, I do things like store all of my mail directories in git. Which you might think is kind of weird, but the truth is that it makes keeping lots of computers in sync a rather simple proposition, and its damn fast.

I also have a directory I call “garen” (but used to call “main”) that is basically my home directory. It has all my emacs lisp files, most of my non-mail related scripts, various configuration files. and so forth. It started out as a backup and workspace for smaller projects, but it’s since morphed into “that one thing I need to have of my computer in order to actually work.” When I was setting up the server it took a thousand things that might have been huge headaches and made them non-issues. Here’s what this repo looks like:

• emacs/ This is where my emacs-lisp files all live. I have a ‘init.el’ file which is basically the standard .emacs file, and a ‘gui-init.el’ file for code that I only want to run if I’m running desktop where I’ll be running non-console emacs frames. As a result on my machines my .emacs file looks like this: :

  (load "~/garen/emacs/gui-init.el")
  (load "~/garen/emacs/init.el")
  

  With the first line commented out if needed. End result, emacs loads the same everywhere, no thinking.

• scripts/ I add this to my path, so that any little bit of bash script that I want to be able to use is accessable and the same on all my machines.

• configs/ Generally my format is to have config_file.machine_name, for example: bashrc.leibniz. In the case of the bashrc, I have a “.common” file that has everything that all my machines need, while the machine specific files have everything that’s… well specific, and a source statement for the common file. So my “real” .bashrc looks like this: :

  source /home/tychoish/garen/configs/bashrc.leibniz
  

  And everything stays in sync between the machines. How cool is that.

That’s sort of the most important thing. The great thing is that this makes setting up a new user account on a server, or a box itself a piece of cake.

Food for thought!

• Monday morning, before I left St. Louis, the trash truck or something took out the phone line behind the house. The phone line which carries the internet. Sigh. So while I’ve been driving and have been somewhat out of touch, by the nature of this whole process, the fact that the internet died didn’t help things. Sorry for the lack of posts.
• The midwest (particular the northern and parts that I’m most familiar) is, on the whole, incredibly boring to drive through. Not stunningly boring, but not that bad. By the time you get to eastern Ohio, however, things start to get interesting. The miles and miles of corn fields interspersed with the lone standing tree and occasional soybean crop--you know you’re in trouble when soybeans come as a refreshing change of pace--were replaced with rolling hills, mountains, and the like.

To make up for this, however, it did seem that they were doing a lot of construction/road repair for very little improvement. Parts of the eastern edge of the turnpike were actually pretty good: modern, pretty wide, in good repair; other parts, not so much.

Although, to be sure, heading east was much better than heading west. Better to get the bland out of the way first, and have something interesting at the end.

• I met Chris for the first time, in the flesh. Dude. This requires it’s own sublist:

1. I think the common perception is that things that happen in meatspace are somehow more authentic, and meaningful, and “real” than conversations that happen on line, and often I’d agree. While I’m certainly not complaining about the real-life experience, I do think that there are some distinct disadvantages:

   It’s hard to share links in meatspace, and so “hey I was reading this thing, here’s a link, and I thought that it was nifty and has implications for ____” becomes, not a stepping stone for another thought, but an exercise in “hell, I read something not that long ago and thought it seemed relevant.

   Chris and I tend to have these interleaved conversations where we’ll sort of drift through a few topics at once, and because at least in an ephemeral sort of way chats are logged, it’s hard to interrupt the other person, even if there are a couple of threads of quasi-related material on the table at once. Without the benefit of a running transcript you have to remember more and that’s weird, or at least it feels weird in this context. I’ll adjust I’m sure.

2. On the whole, he is (and the occasion was) pretty much what I expected. I’ve had this theory about “how people turn out to really be in reality versus how they seem online,” which is that after enough time (months/years) it’s pretty hard to maintain any sort of ruse or false facade. Sure, people lie, and people lie in real life, but those amount to little surprises. Big surprises? Unlikely. That held true.

   The cats have been reasonably cooperative. They’re sort of scared of the outside, and were made nervous by the whole experience. Thankfully their response was to cower/sleep in the carrier and not make a lot of noise. I’m leaving them with M.N. in Philadelphia for a night or two while I secure digs for us in New Jersey.

   M.N. and I will have a couple of opportunities this weekend to do shape note singing. Woot!

   It’s nice to know that summer, even early summer, isn’t quite as brutal everywhere as it is in St. Louis (or the other places where I’ve (semi)recently spent my summers: Kansas City, Nashville, and St. Louis of course.) Between that and the Wisconsin winter tolerance, which hasn’t yet worn off, I think I have a freakishly broad temperature tolerance.

   Eastern time is weird. Though, at least for a little while, I like it because it sort of means that my body doesn’t quite get that it’s daylight savings time. And there are very few things that I hate more than daylight savings time.

And I think, that’s all the news that’s fit to print.

Edited to add: I’m going to continue such musing regarding my current state over on my live journal which seems the more appropriate venue for this kind of blathering. Real post tomorrow. I swear.

Because I’m moving soon (eep.) I’ve realized that we needed to get a new bed. See my existing bed--now, nearly ten years old--was wedged into the room in my parents house that it is currently in, with some force, and we very much doubt that said bed will ever be able to be removed, given the shape and location of the doorway.

Anyway, so I went to our local furniture store the other day to scope out and price mattresses and box-springs. This furniture store is this outlet-like store that’s pretty near to where my parents live, and over the past ten or twelve years we’ve gotten a fair number of things there, so much so that there’s a sales guy that recognizes my mother and I when we enter.

So we go in, and I try and make a b-line for the mattress section, when we were acosted by a very helpful sales guy (not our usual victim) and he hovered around telling us way too much about the inner workings of the mattresses, even after I tried to make it clear that: a) I wasn’t likely to buy the mattress today, b) I just wanted to feel where my price point was.

I should interject two things, one that I sleep on my stomach, and two that I tend to sleep with my feet hanging off the end of the bed.

So after a while of looking around and hoping that the dude would get the picture and leave me alone, he finally suggested that I try a particular bed out.

“Ok,” I said, and face planted side ways (so that I was running parallel to the imaginary headboard) onto a sort of mid-to-high end off-brand mattress. “Hey,” I said, after a moment, “That’s pretty good,”

“Uh,” he said, “Is that how you usually sleep on beds?”

I was speechless. Not only was he hovering but he was judging me for how I was laying down on beds. Now to be fair I don’t typically lay on beds cross-ways except for naps when I’m really tired, but still it seemed out of place, particularly since he’d been so accommodating and attentive henceforth.

Sigh.

Deep Breath.

I have news for you all which I hope will explain my absence for the past 10 or 15 days. Actually I’m surprised that it’s only been 10 or 15 days, as it feels so much longer. Anyway, enough suspense:

I’ve accepted a position with Linode to work on (primarily) a really cool technical writing project. You can see the announcement here.

This is really awesome because:

• It’s a job. Writing. About Linux, and Web Servers, and Free Software/Open Source.
• Linode rocks. I applied for the job somewhat before I bought a linode, and I’ve been nothing but pleased with the service which has worked flawlessly for me so far. The best part, is I think that Linode’s approach to technology, to using and developing technology, really fits in with the kinds of values and approaches that I hold.
• Did I mention it’s a writing job where I get to work with Linux and free software?
• It puts me on the east coast, near Philadelphia, where the largest concentration of my non-College friends are located, which has me unbelievably excited. I’ll be able to gossip and dance with M.N. more than once a year; I’ll be able to hang out and with my emergency-backup-big-sister (H.C.) more often; it’ll be feasible to hang out with Chris you know ever and more. I’m so psyched.
• Did I mention it’s a writing job where I get to work with Linux and free software?

The astute among you will thus, notice that:

• New job elsewhere means relocation. Which means.
• I’ve been busy doing all of the relocation things: packing, doing this and that’s, more packing, getting paperwork in order, even more packing, and so forth that I’ve not been really good at keeping on top of the blog. I have a couple of entries stashed, but my rhythm is all off kilter.
• The job announcement has my real name in it. I have an abandoned a post or two about the whole tycho/sam thing. I should perhaps restart it. I think what I really need is this highly mythologized about page that talks about tycho and sam in different voices.

The truth is, that while I don’t think my reasons for using “tycho garen” these days is the same as it was 2.5 or 3 years ago, but I really like what I’ve done with the whole tycho thing, and I can’t really imagine not using it.

• In a lot of ways, I think, writing this blog for so long is a lot of the reason why I was able to get this job, both because through the experience of writing about technology for the blog gave me the confidence/knowledge/skills that make this tech-writing thing I do possible, and also the blog I think served to demonstrate that I was for real.

This is related to another train of thought that I hope to follow up on in the next few months somewhere, but it strikes me that this, if anything is a marker of success that we’re not particularly prone to attending too. We notice successful blogs that get millions of visits a month and can support their authors on advertising revenue and invited speaking engagements. I think that I’ve achieved some kind of success here, and there are other kinds of success to be had. I want to think about what this means. But first I want to sit with this.

I’ll be in touch, and I look forward to continuing this blog in this “next part” of my journey.

Cheers!

I’ve been writing for weeks and weeks about co-ops, authentic exchange and commerce, the practice of openness and business models, and other related topics. Between the crashing economy, my ongoing contemplation of open source, and a new project that I’m almost ready to announce, thinking about the substance of economies and the power of economies to define other aspect of our social experience has seemed really appealing. And it has been.

I came across this article by Jason Stoddard a while back, and I’ve realized that I would be remiss in these posts, if I didn’t somehow tie it into writing and science fiction, and Stoddard’s post provides a great hook into this connection. He’s also, basically spot on right.

Interestingly, the beginning of this series grew out of my experiences reading Kim Stanley Robinson’s “Mars Trilogy,” which spent a lot of time (particularly in the last two volumes) contemplating corporations and capitalism. Indeed, in the Mars books, Robinson posits what some readers (without careful examination) might think of as the typical “evil mega-corporations.”

Though I think he succeeds at avoiding the traps of having as villains “scheming business people in suits,” by making sure that none of the executives appear in the stories. The closest we get to having a “corporate villain,” is a character who allies themselves with the corporations for personal advancement. The result is that, the corporations lumber around, always doing the wrong thing, always getting in the way of the main characters, but they never loose the extra-human nature of being corporations.

Maybe that’s part of the problem with writing fiction about corporations. Fiction tends to revolve around people and social systems of comprehensible complexity and corporations are shaped and steered by a great number of people, and there’s too much complexity in corporations to really capture accurately in fiction.

While Stoddard’s argument (Corporations exist to make money, they’re not evil by nature) is factually true and good advice to anyone writing ‘corporate drama’ fiction, I think writers (and the rest of us) might benefit from thinking about some other “nitty gritty” aspects of corporations. Just because corporations may be “generally a bad thing in the world,” difficult to write about, and “not simply evil for the purposes of fiction” nonetheless I think it is important to think about the social/political effect corporations and to write about them in fiction.

The following list is rough, and incomplete, and I encourage you all to help me out in comments!

• Corporations have a few overriding drives: to grow, to make profit (both by minimizing expenses and by increasing revenue), and to continue to exist. All actions and strategies undertaken by corporations should make sense in context of one or more of these drives.
• Corporate cultures are largely self selecting, so “radicals” in corporate settings are really unlikely, either because they’re likely to leave or because their self-interest eventually falls in line with the company’s interest.
• Corporations employ huge numbers of people, but we can assume that the number of people at any given company doing things that support the main mission of a company but that aren’t “the thing the company does.” Phyisical Plant “things,” clerical tasks, human resources, “infrastructure,” operations/financial tasks, internal legal work, and so forth. Probably as much as a quarter or a third of the staff probably falls into one of these categories.
• Corporations are rarely unilateral. Ever. They have many operations, many projects, many divisions, and thus can be resilient to things changing “around them.” This also means that coorporations are less likely to take umbrage at potentially threatening individuals and companies, than a single individual would in a similar situation.
• Career advancement, in companies or elsewhere, generally happens to some greater or lesser extent by moving horizontally between companies rather than “through the ranks.”
• The bigger the corporation the more specialized the roles of the workforce would tend to be.
• For the most part, I think it safe to assume that most corporations don’t have a great deal of “classified” information, or information that’s heavily embargoed. This comes as a great blow to conspiracy theorists, but secrets are hard to keep with regards to projects that a lot of people need to know about, and if all the other things we know about corporations are true (size, attrition, etc.) “great secrets” are unlikely to remain great secrets for long.

In light of all these things I think there are a lot of opportunities for realistic story telling, but it’s not always so straight forward.

In anycase, I look forward to thinking about this some more with you.

One element that has been largely missing from my ongoing rambling analysis of economies, corporations, co-ops, and institutions has been higher education and universities. Of course Universities are institutions, and function in many ways like large corporations, but, nostalgia notwithstanding, I don’t think it’s really possible to exempt Universities or dismiss them from this conversation.

Oh, and, there was this rather interesting--but remarkably mundane--article that I clipped recently about that addressed where universities are “going” in the next decade or two. I say mundane, because I think the “look there’s new technology that’s changing the rules game” is crappy futurism, and really fails to get at the core of what kinds of developments we may expect to see in the coming years.

Nevertheless… Shall we begin? I think so:

• The expansion of university in the last 60 years, or so, has been fueled by the GI-Bill and the expansion of the student-loan industry. With the “population bubble” changing, and the credit market changing, universities will have to change. How they change is of course up in the air.
• There aren’t many alternatives to “liberal arts/general education” post-secondary education for people who don’t want, need, or have the preparation for that kind of education at age 18. While I’m a big proponent (and product of) a liberal arts education, there are many paths to becoming a well rounded and well educated adult, and they don’t all lead through traditional-four-year college educations (or equivalents, particularly at age 18.)
• Technology is changing higher education and scholarship, already, with all likelihood faster than technology has been and is changing other aspects of our culture (publishing, media production, civic engagement, etc.). Like all of these developments of culture, however, the changes in higher education are probably not as revolutionary as the article suggests.
• There will probably always be a way in which degree granting institutions will be a “useful” part of our society, but I think “The College,” will probably change significantly, but I think forthcoming changes probably have less to do with education and the classroom, and more to do with the evolving role of the faculty.
• As part of the decline of tenure-systems, I expect that eventually we’ll see a greater separation (but not total disconnect) between the institutions which employ and sponsor scholarship, and the institutions that educate students.
• It strikes me that most of the systems that universities use to convey education online (Blackboard, moodle, etc.,) are hopelessly flawed. Either by virtue of being difficult and “gawky” to use, or because they’re proprietary systems, or that they’re not designed for the task at hand, all of the systems that I’m aware of are as much roadblocks to the adoption of new technology in education as anything else.
• Although quality information (effectively presented, even) is increasingly available online for free, what makes this information valuable in the university setting, including interactivity, feedback on progress, individual attention, validation and certification of mastery, are all of the things that universities (particularly “research”-grade institutions) perform least successfully at.
• We’ve been seeing research and popular press stuff on the phenomena of “prolonged adolescence,” where young people tend to have a period of several years post-graduation where they have to figure out “what next,” sometimes there’s graduate school, sometimes there’s odd jobs. I’ve become convinced that in an effort to help fill the gap between “vocational education” and “liberal arts/gen ed.” we’ve gotten to the point where we ask people who are 18 (and don’t have a clue what they want to do with their lives, for the most part) to make decisions about their careers that are pretty absurd. Other kinds of educational options should exist, that might help resolve this issue.

Interestingly these thoughts didn’t have very much to do with technology. I guess I mostly feel that the changes in technology are secondary to the larger economic forces likely to affect universities in the coming years. Unless the singularity comes first.

Your thoughts, as always, are more than welcome.

I ran across this smear piece with regards to Ubuntu users from the perspective of a seasoned Linux user, which I think resonates both with the problem of treating your users like idiots and differently with the kerfuffle over ubuntu one, though this post is a direct sequel to neither post.

The article in question makes critique (sort of) that a little bit of knowledge is a terrible thing, and that by making Linux/Unix open to a less technical swath of users, that the quality of the discourse around the linux world has taken a nose dive. It’s a sort of “grumble grumble get off my lawn, kid,” sort of argument, and while the elitist approach is off-putting (but total par for the course in hacker communities,) I think the post does resonate with a couple of very real phenomena:

1. Ubuntu has led the way for Linux to become a viable option for advanced beginner and intermediate computer users. Particularly since the beginning of 2008 (eg. the 8.04 release). Ubuntu just works, and a lot of people who know their way around a keyboard and a mouse are and can be comfortable using Linux for most of their computing tasks. This necessarily changes the makeup of the typical “Linux User” quite a bit, and I think welcoming these people into the fold can be a challenge, particularly for the more advanced users who have come to expect something very different from the “Linux Community.”

2. This is mostly Microsoft’s fault, but people who started using--likely Windows powered--computers in the nineties (which is a huge portion of people out there), being an ‘intermediate’ means a much different kind of understanding that “old school” Linux users have.

Using a Windows machine effectively, and knowing how to use one of these systems, revolves around knowing what controls are where in the control panel, around being able to “guess” where various settings are within applications, knowing how to keep track of windows that aren’t visible, understanding the hierarchy of the file system, and knowing to reboot early and often. By contrast, using a Linux Machine effectively revolves around understanding the user/group/file permissions system, understanding the architecture of the system/desktop stack, knowing your way around a command line window, and the package manager, and knowing how to edit configuration files if needed.

In short, skills aren’t as transferable between operating systems as they may have once been.

Ubuntu, for it’s flaws (tenuous relationship with the Debian Project, peculiar release cycle), seems to know what it takes to make a system usable with very little upfront cost: How the installer needs to work, how to provide and organize the graphical configuration tools, and how to provide a base installation that is familiar and functional to a broad swath of potential users.

While this does change the dynamic of the community, it’s also the only way that linux on the desktop is going to grow. The transition between windows power user and linux user is not a direct one. (While arguably the transition between OS X and Linux is reasonably straight forward.) The new people who come to the linux desktop are by-and-large going to be users who are quite different from the folks who have historically used Linux.

At the same time, one of the magical things about free software is that the very act of using free software educates users about how their software works and how their machines work. The cause of this is partially intentional, partly by virtue of the fact that much free software is designed to be used by the people who wrote the software, and partly because of free software’s adoptive home of UNIX-liken systems. Regardless of the reason however, we can expect that even the most “n00bish” of users to eventually become more skilled and knowledgeable.

Having said that, in direct response to the article in question, even though I’m a huge devote of a “real” text editor, might it be the case that the era of the “do everything text editor” may be coming to an end? My thought is not that emacs and vi are no longer applicable, but the truth is that building specialized domain specific editing applications is easy enough that building such editing applications inside of vi/emacs doesn’t make the same sort of sense that it made a twenty or thirty years ago? Sure a class of programmers will probably always use emacs, or something like it, but I think the change of emacs being supplanted by things-that-aren’t editors, say, is something that isn’t too difficult to imagine.

If the singularity doesn’t come first, that is.

About a week ago, by your reading, I finished writing a short story. The fact that I was writing a short story when I should have been working on the novel is perhaps a bit distressing, but I’ve taken the opinion that any work on short fiction--particularly short fiction where I’m excited about the project and reasonably happy with the results--is worth what ever attention and love I can spare for it.

So I took a break from my novel to write a short story. Most of my attempts at short fiction are so abortive that I was hesitant to even talk about it on the blog lest I jinx myself in some way.

But nevertheless, I got to a first draft. A first draft, that has an ending which doesn’t suck. This is a major accomplishment.

I’m not going to talk too much about it now, as it still has to pass muster with my reviewers and get edited into something a bit less rambling, but for right now I’ve chosen to take pleasure in the acomplishment.

I will, however, say that the story is basically a compression of a lot of the ideas in the novel I’m writing. The short story is set about 10-15 years before the story, but it has many of the same core characters, and--I guess--reformulates the core issues in the novel’s story in a different context.

Oh, and it’s a pretty cool space-adventure at the same time.

Because that’s how I swing.

I write this post as I am (theoretically) putting the finishing touches on a short story that I’ve written.

“But shouldn’t you be working on a novel?” You ask.

Well yes. But this short story is related to the novel, and any time I have the overwhelming urge to write a short story, I’m prone to take it, because I’m not much of a short story writer by temperament and I think it’s a good practice/skill to encourage.

Anyway, so I’m writing this short story. And it’s cruising in right around the 6,500-7,500 is word length for the first draft, which isn’t bad. Actually the whole thing isn’t terribly wretched, which is kinda awesome.

In any case, I wanted to explain one part of my challenge in writing and thinking about writing short form.

You see, for a long time, for some reason, I thought that “short stories” were all around 2,000 words, and that longer things were really novellas, or novelettes at the very least.

Which is totally false the shortest (non-flash) short stories are at least 2,000 words (typically) and novelettes start (according to SFWA) at 7,500 words. This was so embeded in my brain, that I would read (or listen) to stories that were clearly 5,000-10,000 words and think to myself “isn’t it amazing how they fit that much story into 2,000 words?”

sigh

And while I’m not sure having a realistic notion of short story length has made me a better writer of short forms, it’s made it possible to write shorter forms.

And that, my friends, is a start.

[Edit: I totally finished the short story and twittered about it yesterday morning, as I’m posting this, I’ll post about that later. Anyway, impeding big news, that I think I’ll be ready to talk about on Monday or so. Stay tuned and have a good weekend.]

I read a pretty cool interview with Vernor Vinge, in H+ magazine, where he talked about the coming technological singularity, which I thought was really productive. I’ve read and participated in a lot criticism of “Singularity Theory,” where people make the argument that the singularity is just a mystification on the process of normal technological development, and that all this attention to the technology distracts from “real” issues, and/or that singularity is too abstract, too distant, and will only be recognizable in retrospect.

From reading Vinge’s comments, I’ve come to several realizations:

• Vinge’s concept of the singularity is pretty narrow, and relates to effect of creating human-grade information technology. Right now, there are a lot of things that humans can do that machines can’t, The singularity then, is the point where that changes.
• I liked how--and I find this to be the case with most “science theory,” but the scientists often have very narrow theories and the popular press often forces a much more broad interpretation. I think we get too caught up with thinking about the singularity as this cool amazing thing that is the nerd version of “the second coming,” and forget that the singularity would really mark the end of society and culture as we know it now. That it’s a rather frightening proposition.
• Vinge’s comparison of the singularity to the development of the printing press is productive. He argues that the printing press was conceivable before Gutenberg (they had books, the effects, however were unimaginable, admittedly), in a way that the singularity isn’t conceivable to us given the current state of our lives and technology. In a lot of ways, the technological developments required in the Singularity, without attending to the social and cultural facts. The singularity is really about the outsourcing of cognition (writing, computers, etc.) rather than cramming more computing power onto our microchips.

As i begin to understand this a bit better--as it’s pretty difficult to grok--I’ve begun to think about the singularity and post-singular experience as being a much more dark possibility than had heretofore. There are a lot of problems with “the human era,” and I think technology, particularly as humans interact with technology (eg. cyborg) is pretty amazing. So why wouldn’t the singularity be made of awesome?

Because it wouldn’t be--to borrow an idea from William Gibson--evenly distributed. The post-human era might begin with the advent of singularity-grade intelligences, but there will be a lot of humans left hanging around in the post-human age. Talk about class politics!

Secondly, the singularity represents the end of our society in a very real sort of sense. Maybe literature, art, journalism, manufacturing, farming, computer terminals and their operating systems (lending a whole new meaning to the idea of a “dumb terminal”), and the Internet will continue to be relevant in a post-human age. But probably not exactly. While the means by which these activities and cultural pursuits might be obsoleted (tweaking metabolisms, organic memory transfer, inboard computer interfaces) are interesting, the death of culture is often a difficult and trying process, particularly for the people (like academics, educators, writers, artists, etc.) “Unintelligible” is sort of hard to grasp.

And I think frightening as a result. Perhaps that’s the largest lesson that I got from Vinge’s responses: the singularity is on many levels something to be feared: that when you think about the singularity the response should be on some visceral level “I’d really like to avoid that,” rather than, “Wouldn’t it be cool if this happened.”

And somehow that’s pretty refreshing. At least for me.