The Machine Stops

A world in which all humans live underground. Each person in their own bubble. a small room where everything happens for them.The central character of the story gives lectures to remotely located students and "attends" lectures herself. Remotely communicating with her son and others.

A prescient parable of our pandemically-challenged times? Perhaps but, astonishingly, The Machine Stops is a short story by E. M. Forster, written in...1909.

As well as communication, feeding, sleeping, air conditioning and other necessary aspects of daily life are controlled by the Machine. A world-wide inter-connected, all-embracing functional controller.

Technology innovation in 1909 consisted of bakelite, cellophane, lipstick and disposable razor blades. Although Alexander Graham Bell had developed the telephone 30 years earlier it wasn't until the 1930s that phones in homes became a thing; Forster may have had some awareness of the device in 1909 but probably no experience. So how could he have imagined the world of Skype, the Internet, Zoom and WhatsApp? Amazing.

This is not the fantasy fiction of The Time Machine or The Invisible Man (no offence Herbert George Wells; I have enjoyed your books immensely) but rather science/technology/sociology fiction.

Nor is this Orwell's 1984 control freakery; citizens of this story are allowed, but not encouraged, to do certain things such as travel. So it's not about fascism or demagoguery. It is essentially about the dangers of technological development and the inexorable trend towards machine control. The Machine is clearly a benign object to the world's citizens; some of them even begin to worship it:

"The Machine", they exclaimed, "feeds us and clothes us and houses us; through it we speak to one another, through it we see one another, in it we have our being. The Machine is the friend of ideas and the enemy of superstition; the Machine is omnipotent, eternal; blessed is the Machine."

The Machine is doing a great job for the citizens of Earth. It supplies all their bodily and spiritual needs.

Until. It. Breaks. Down.

The. Machine Stops.

In my never-satisfied search for more knowledge, I came across a 2016 album of the same name by the space-rock band Hawkwind. There is an introductory narrative track All hail The Machine, with a background of weird machiney and spacey sounds:

The Machine feeds us & clothes us & houses us

Through the Machine, we speak to one another, in it we have our being

The Machine is the friend of ideas & the enemy of superstition

The Machine is omnipotent, eternal

Blessed is The Machine

Blessed is The Machine

All this talk is as if a god made the machine

But you must remember that men made The Machine

Great men but men all the same

The Machine is much but it is not everything

There is something like you on the screen but you are not seen

There is something that sounds like you but you are not heard

In time, because of The Machine, there will come a generation that has got beyond facts

Beyond impressions

A generation absolutely colourless

A generation seraphically free from the taint of personality

All hail The Machine!

All hail The Machine!

At last on track 2 (The Machine) we get music!

Oh to reach the surface once again

And feel the sun

I thought a later track Living on Earth might give some of E. M. Forster enlightenment but sadly the lyrics - and the music - typify the album's deterioration into the mundane (Maybe that's a metaphor for The Machine Stops).

I didn't know, no one told me of this

That living on Earth is no life of bliss

Those halcyon days when time slips away

Our love won't exist

I'm sorry Hawkwind, you don't make it onto my Spotify favourites list but it was good to know you.

Nonsense rhymes

I picked up a rum-looking biscuit

Shall I throw it away or risk it?

Don't be daft, you can't die

from eating a pie

You're just being too pessimistic

I decided to take a big chance

It seemed OK at a glance

It looked a bit off

and I started to cough

And ended the night in a trance

In the trance I felt a bit pale

I dreamed I was inside a whale

It was very dark

but I saw Noah's Ark

And here is my animal tale

A dodo came into my house

Trying hard to catch a mouse

I said "no, no, 

Go away, dodo, 

It's eating that horrid woodlouse" 

I once met a big ugly toad

I thought he was crossing the road 

"Mr Toad, here's a log"

"Don't be daft, I'm a frog

And this is my humble abode"

The louse and the mouse and the frog

and the dodo, all went for a jog

They watched a black cat

keep an eye on a rat

But forgot to watch out for the dog!

I've got no more beasts for you

They've all gone back to the zoo

They're met with confetti

from a just-married yeti

Now I'm off to bed, toodaloo.

Eat  your heart out, Edward Lear.

Did you know? More great people

Gustav Eiffel. We all know what he is famous for - but did you know he built a railway station in Chile, a gasworks in Bolivia and a lighthouse in Estonia?

Hypatia. The oldest known female mathematician. Lived in Egypt in the 4th century. I wonder what mathematicians actually did in those days?

Bhasa. A 3rd/4th century Indian playwright. His plays sometimes showed scenes of physical violence, against the traditions of the Natya Shastra.

Christine de Pizan. An early feminist, she was in a way a "court writer" to France's Charles VI. She especially espoused the virtues of Charles' Queen Isabeau and Louis VIII's Queen Blanche in her writings.

Niccolo Machiavelli. Wrote a five act comedy La Mandragola. Not what he is more usually remembered for. Maybe he thought politicians were all comical.

Liliʻuokalani. A Hawaiian songwriter. She was also the last sovereign monarch of the Hawaiian Kingdom, before its overthrow in 1893.

Stephanie Kwolek. The inventor of Kevlar.

Civilization VI. "Just a game"

It's just a game

 No it's not. My favourite computer game Civilization VI is far far more than that. It is an archive of historical accuracy and detail. History, ancient and modern, that I learn from almost every day. Great people, great works of engineering, science, commerce, literature, music, the visual arts and yes, warfare. Sun Tzu alongside Isaac Newton alongside Gustav Klimt.

The developers of the game pride themselves on historical accuracy and relevance, with great respect for all cultures and values. 19th century Japanese artist Katsushika Hokusai, Genghis Khan, Machiavelli and Zoroaster are all around, as great people who have made their contributions to the development of the world's civilisations, without value judgements on their effects. There is no Adolf Hitler, though, and no Pol Pot, although genocide is "represented" by Genghis and Ethiopia's Menilek II. But Menilek is there alongside Simon Bolivar, Gandhi and Montezuma as protectors of their countries/regions against the ravages of colonialism.

You don't learn this in school history.

It's a cornucopia of cultural bountifulness, a profusion of world knowledge, a schooling in history from ancient Mesopotamia to Second World War Australia, with their respective leaders Gilgamesh and John Curtin.

Consider what I learned yesterday; two [excerpts from] poems by Emily Dickinson:

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

A Bird, came down the Walk - 
He did not know I saw -
He bit an Angle Worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw, 

I love them.

And by the 8th century Chinese poet Li Bai:

Among the blossoms waits a jug of wine.
I pour myself a drink, no loved one near.
Raising my cup, I invite the bright moon
and turn to my shadow. We are now three.
But the moon doesn’t understand drinking,
and my shadow follows my body like a slave.
For a time moon and shadow will be my companions,
a passing joy that should last through the spring.
I sing and the moon just wavers in the sky;
I dance and my shadow whips around like mad.
But stumbling drunk, each staggers off alone.
Bound forever, relentless we roam:
reunited at last on the distant river of stars.

So, when I am playing the game as Simon Bolivar's Gran Colombia against Spain's Philip II and and I meet the roaming Kupe of the Maori and Poundmaker of the Cree, we are at one and I am re-living the history of the world. My world.

Kids, get playing and learning!

Old wives' tales

Of course you can't say that any more. It's ageist and sexist. And anti singles.

"Eating your crusts makes your hair go curly" is a traditional example. I remember my mother saying it to me. It didn't work. Even though my mother was an old wife. And why is it that, when I search for celebrities with the curliest hair, it's all female pop stars? What about Kevin Keegan and Brian May?

"early to bed, early to rise". Try telling a teenager that.

"An apple a day keeps the doctor away". Why would you want to keep the doctor away? And they've probably got a huge store of rotting apples by now.

"Sitting too close to the television will make you go blind". Needs updating for computers.

"Eating carrots will improve your eyesight". bestlifeonline.com tells me "Originally, this rumor took hold when Royal Air Force fighter ace John Cunningham became the first person to shoot down an enemy plane (using automatic targeting) in the dead of night. British officials facetiously credited the pilot's success to eating carrots in order to fool the Germans. Later, the carrot-eyesight link further gained validity in the public eye when sugar supplies became scarce and, as such, the British Ministry of Food made a push for more vegetables and fewer sweets, with cartoons like "Dr. Carrot" gracing advertisements and billboards everywhere."

"Carry an acorn around to stay forever young". How young? I definitely wouldn't have wanted to stay a teenager. It works for oak trees though.

Tell me your favourites!

Camel Trail 3

 I'm in Padstow.

Home to the great and good.

Fish and chips? Not at the moment, thanks, I've had lunch (Thai chicken and lemongrass soup and sushi, since you ask).

I'm strolling along another part of the Camel Trail, going east from Padstow. There are about 500 cyclists, one red faced jogger and the odd walker.

Very odd.

The trail itself is not particularly exciting although the Camel estuary is very picturesque. Much of the trail is basically a woodland path. But for me the enjoyment is observing the people, particularly the cyclists. And I'm hunting the elusive Little Egrets.

It's fascinating to catch snippets of cycling family conversation. "Are we at Padstow yet, Dad?". "The thing we have to remember is that we're in the South China sea". "Did she like you saying that?". "Henry, don't forget to brake". "Henry, slow down". "Henry, stop! STOP!".

"Sorry about that". No worries, I'm still alive. Ring your bell!

It's amazing what cyclists can tow. There was a yappy black dog in a mobile kennel, another - a fluffy brown thing - in a home made device and what seemed to be twins in a baby carriage.

One father had the right idea, cruising along on an electric scooter, not a care in the world, while his kids pedalled their bikes furiously and sweated profusely.

Aha, I spy my prey. A pair of Little Egrets at last.

I told you they are little. You'll just have to trust me on this.

At last I am back in Padstow. It's hot and sticky and I'm knackered. I deserve a treat. Shall I have an iced coffee and a cake, or an ice cream?

I'm not telling.