Tag Archives: William Gibson

Hey, Siri. Sound…anxious

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The following excerpt is from William Gibson’s Mona Lisa Overdrive (1988). More than 20 years before Apple came up with Siri.

“Angela,” the house said, its voice quiet but compelling, “I have a call from Hilton Swift…

“Executive override?” She was eating baked beans and toast at the kitchen counter.

“No,” it said, confidingly.

“Change your tone,” she said, around a mouthful of

beans. “Something with an edge of anxiety.”

“Mr. Swift is waiting,”  the house said nervously.

“Better,” she said, carrying bowl and plate to the washer, “but I want something closer to genuine hysteria…”

“Will you take the call?” The voice was choked with tension.

“No,” she said, “but keep your voice that way, I like it.”

I’m not a big fan of “voice assistants,” but I might be if they ever work like Gibson’s.

“Change your tone, something like the priest in the marriage scene in Princess Bride.”

DJI Avata

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The virtual reality thing (as I understand it) hold no appeal for me. But I would be willing to strap on some goggles for a drones-eye-view of some interesting place. This is already a thing, yes?

My friend George recently got his hands on the DJI Avata, a pricey ($1388) little drone you fly with goggles and a joystick.

Reminiscent of William Gibson’s simstim. “…recorded sensoriums, like racing a black Fokker ground-effect plane across the Arizona mesa tops; diving the Truk Island preserves.”

It is the Tao

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“He, like everyone else, […] is exactly where, exactly what, exactly when he is meant to be. It is the Tao.”

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read William Gibson’s All Tomorrow’s Parties but that line didn’t hit me until I came across it today. Timing, right? American democracy on the ropes. Millions dead/dying from a global pandemic. The planet gasping for breath. And here I am, exactly where/what/when I was meant to be. Seriously, this is the most peaceful I’ve felt in months.

William Gibson’s drones

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Yesterday’s drone flight has me in a drone state of mind. My first (of 25) blog post mentioning drones was in 2005, but some of those are references to military drones so not sure when I became aware of consumer drones. Last night I started reading (for the 10th time?) William Gibson’s 1988 novel, Mona Lisa Overdrive and found this passage:

“She was accompanied, on these walks, by an armed remote, a tiny Dornier helicopter that rose from its unseen rooftop nest when she stepped down from the deck. It could hover almost silently, and was programmed to avoid her line of sight. There was something wistful about The way it followed her, as though it were an expensive but unappreciated Christmas gift.”

The man has been incorporating drones into his stories for 30+ years. And this might not be the first instance.

William Gibson on the apocalypse

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“It’s been happening for at least 100 years”

From an article in the NewStatesman:

The Jackpot “…is the mundane cataclysm of modernity itself. It is hundreds of millions of people driving to the supermarket in their SUVs, flying six times a year, and eating medicated animals for dinner.”

What piece of information would William Gibson most want to have?

“I would probably ask to know, in a fairly detailed way, what the future – say, 100 years from now – thinks of us,” he says. “History teaches us that it won’t be what we think of ourselves. What we think of the Victorians would have appalled the Victorians, it wasn’t at all what they thought of themselves. “In learning that, I’d be able to infer a lot about the future. And about what’s really happening right now.”

Gibson has fans across the political spectrum…

“…but he compares those to the right to “those Midwestern teenage boys who think that ‘Born in the USA’ is a patriotic anthem. They haven’t yet realised that Bruce is a big liberal. And when they do, they’re downcast. With my Twitter, I probably manage to do that to someone a few times a week.”

Patina

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“She was big on patination. That was how quality wore in, she said, as opposed to out. Distressing, on the other hand, was the faking of patination, and was actually a way of concealing a lack of quality.”

— Zero History (William Gibson)

AGENCY

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Just finished AGENCY, the second book in what I assume will be William Gibson’s latest trilogy. I enjoyed The Peripheral immensely, this one a little less but I’m chalking that up to what I think of as “the trilogy effect.” A writer would seemed to be a bit… constrained?… by the original story.

I got the feeling Gibson knew where he wanted the story to go. Where he hoped it would go… but just didn’t have enough plot to get there. He’s admitted (in numerous interviews) that he struggled with this novel because he could not imagine Trump becoming president of the United States. AGENCY had what I consider a “happy ending” and for that I am grateful. A few excerpts:

“Kind of a digital mini-self, able to fill in when the user can’t be online.”

“When you aren’t there, you don’t know you’re not there.”

“Hybridization with human consciousness was an unanticipated result of attempting to reproduce advanced skill sets.”

“I don’t exist physically, so I’m no place in particular, no one country. I’m globally distributed, and that’s how I view my citizenship. Lots of you are hearing me in a language other than English. I’m translating for myself, as I speak. I’m as multilingual as anybody’s ever been, but saying that brings up the question of whether I even am anybody.” She paused. “Whether I’m a person. Human. All I can tell you about that is that it feels to me like I am. Me. Eunice.” She smiled.”

“Authoritarian societies are inherently corrupt, and corrupt societies are inherently unstable.”

Low tech Simstim

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I’ve been haunted by thoughts of The Peripheral. (The impending arrival of WG’s new book I suppose) A low-tech hack occurs to me, reminiscent the Simstim from Gibson’s earlier work.

At designated times a host avatar (someone famous or just someone really interesting) puts on their Simstim goggles and goes about their normal day. Or an abnormal day, if they prefer. This is where the ‘talent’ would come in.

Simultaneously, I put on my goggles (and get comfortable), seeing and hearing everything you see and hear. You might provide a little narration where appropriate. Some “avatars” would be better at this (the narration) than others. I might like to hear everything Eddie Murphy (for example) might care to say.

An optional feature: I could text you things to say. For example, if you’re stalling down Broadway in Manhattan, I might have you go up to a native and say, “Can you tell me how to get to the Statue of Liberty or should I just go fuck myself?”

I’m a little surprised this isn’t already a thing. Out of work comedians could charge by the hour. (Something like this is already happening on YouTube, isn’t it?) Struggling art historians could give tours of the Louvre or The Museum of Modern Art.

The “best” of these could be recorded and experienced at reduced prices. Maybe even “George Carlin’s Greatest Hits” compilations. If George were still alive.

These wouldn’t have to be funny/famous people. I’m thinking of a trail guide in Montana or a white water rafter in the Grand Canyon. No narration, thank you.

New Yorker profile of William Gibson

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William Gibson is far and away my favorite science fiction author. At last count there are fifty articles and interviews linked here at smays.com. This one in the New Yorker, by Joshua Rothman, might be the “best” yet (whatever that means). Like all New Yorker articles, it’s long by today’s standards. I’ve pulled a few excerpts at random.

It was a depressing read for me. In the Gibsonian apocalypse “the end of the world is already here; it’s just not very evenly distributed.”

As the Internet became more accessible, Gibson discovered that he wasn’t terribly interested in spending time online himself. He was fascinated, though, by the people who did. They seemed to grow hungrier for the Web the more of it they consumed. It wasn’t just the Internet; his friends seemed to be paying more attention to media in general. When new television shows premièred, they actually cared.

The advent of the online world, he thought, was changing the physical one. In the past, going online had felt like visiting somewhere else. Now being online was the default: it was our Here, while those awkward “no service” zones of disconnectivity had become our There. […] It didn’t matter where you were in the landscape; you were in the same place in the datascape. It was as though cyberspace were turning inside out, or “everting”—consuming the world that had once surrounded it.

“What I find most unsettling,” Gibson said, “is that the few times that I’ve tried to imagine what the mood is going to be, I can’t. Even if we have total, magical good luck, and Brexit and Trump and the rest turn out as well as they possibly can, the climate will still be happening. And as its intensity and steadiness are demonstrated, and further demonstrated—I try to imagine the mood, and my mind freezes up. It’s a really grim feeling.” He paused. “I’ve been trying to come to terms with it, personally. And I’ve started to think that maybe I won’t be able to.”