Looking Forward by Kenneth Jr. (snow like ashes .txt) 📗

of previous centuries. The cybernated production and distribution complex of the twenty-first century is capable of producing many times the flow of goods and services that people of the world require. The automated production capacity is so great that if everyone on the earth were suddenly to order a portable teleprojection set, such an unlikely demand could easily be met with only a short delay.

In certain areas, however, there is a small “cost” to be paid, although neither Scott nor Hella thinks of it in these antiquated twentieth-century terms. They know that this underwater complex with 4,000 apartments requires a continuous staff of three people to operate it. Since there is not a single paid employee in the entire twenty-first-century world, they know in advance that they may be expected to contribute an hour of their time for each month they stay. They look forward to contributing this service, for it furnishes them with new experiences. All jobs involving drudgery have long since been cybernated so they know they will not be asked to scrub floors or perform boring menial tasks. They will probably stand by to help in any way they are needed. Whatever they may be required to do, they know it will probably be interesting, if not challenging.

Soon after arriving, they attend a one-hour teleprojection that gives information on the underwater complex. It shows some of the more popular types of activities; it outlines dangers and suggests certain precautions; it tells where and how to use underwater breathing apparatus and where to pick up their submobile. It locates the various underwater parks that are within a three-hour range of their submobile and shows how to use a special computer to communicate with the intelligent, trained dolphins and other animals in the sea. There are demonstrations of underwater photography and the use of ultrasonically propelled water skis.

The teleprojection describes the magnetic field set up in the water on the north side of the building. Fish line up and swim toward the positive and negative poles of this electrical field. Pulses of high voltage herd them in groups toward a large funnel that sucks them into the cybernated processing plant. Aquatic plants are also grown in underwater fields, and the tops are harvested automatically, leaving the roots and lower third of the plant to grow a new crop without replanting. In various places throughout the world, local traditions often supplement the 325 varieties of food regarded as standard.

When the teleprojection is over, Scott and Hella pick up their handbook and board the underwater sightseeing craft that takes them on a ninety-six-mile tour of this colorful reef area. They frequently leave the submobile and use their membrane masks to explore underwater caves and grottos.

The Humane Use of Time

That evening Scott and Hella join several men and women who are discussing some of the problems of the previous century. No introduction is ever needed in the new world. Everyone feels outgoing and friendly toward his fellow man. The need for introduction in previous centuries often served as a status shield that maintained distance between people.

Myra, a petite blonde, is standing with her back to a large submarine window. She is the center of attention as she discusses the concern of their ancestors over the problem of what people would do with their lives when they didn’t have to work. With vivacious movements she describes the dour predictions of the “emptiness of too much leisure.” In a civilization of scarcity, it was customary for people to expect a life of unremitting toil and to develop “wisdom” based on this reality.

“If all the year were playing holidays, to sport would be as tedious as to work,” Scott says with a smile, quoting from Shakespeare.

Anna, who is drying her hair with an air jet, remarks, “Historian Thomas Carlyle warned that ‘a life of ease is not good for any man, nor for any god.’ The folklore of the past was full of such admonitions as, ‘Idle hands are the Devil’s tools and idle minds, his workshop.’ Our ancestors professed to have faith in humanity, yet they didn’t trust people to direct their own lives.”

“How incredible,” says Daryl, “that humans could be so conditioned that they would feel guilty if they were not engaged in repetitive toil.” He ambles over to the window to join Myra. “Why should people ever feel guilty about anything?”

“Somewhere around the mid-twentieth century,” says Hella, “I recall that the Center for the Study of Democratic Institutions was studying the problem of what people would do with their spare time when they were no longer enslaved by the need to work for a weekly pay check. They invited Daniel Nugent, who lived on a hilltop nearby, to one of their weekly conferences. Nugent had owned a large department store in St. Louis, and he sold it out in 1916 when he was only twenty-seven. He retired in Santa Barbara and spent his days reading, studying, thinking, enjoying the loveliness around him, and using his money to help people. One by one the staff members in the conference room discussed the problems of what to do with leisure time in a world without work. ‘What will happen when men’s and women’s lives are not structured for them? Can they make their own decisions? Can they use their own resources to build a worthwhile life?’ Nugent sat there listening for a long while before he strongly protested, ‘Gentlemen, I myself have not been gainfully employed for some 45 years—and I assure you there are not enough hours in the day.’ ”

“Nugent was a smart man,” observes one of the older men in the group. “He put his finger on our real problem. Our lives are just not long enough in spite of the reduced time now needed for sleeping. It is impossible for any individual to experience even one-thousandth of the world that we have today. And all of our horizons are constantly expanding so that as civilization goes on, it seems that the