In my 1985 sci-fi novel ‘Ender’s Game,’ a couple kids used something like the Internet to pass for experts and influence public opinion. It didn’t take long for reality to catch up.
My father-in-law is a historian, and about 20 years ago he mentioned his concern that cheap long-distance telephoning was going to make the work of future historians far harder.
“Letters are one of our best sources of information about the past, but these days nobody writes letters–they just call.”
“Yes, and I hate that,” I said. “Interrupting what I’m doing right now because this is the moment when it’s convenient for them to call.”
Little did we know that both of us were about to get our wish.