The habit of sneaking books continued. I have no idea how many my mother confiscated in an attempt to make me go to bed. I'd often keep two under my pillow so that when she came in to take my book away I could give her one I wasn't actually reading. I positively tore up fiction sections of the school library. I hid books in my desk at school and read during boring parts of class, and at points in middle school I deliberately accrued detention when informed I would be serving my terms in the library instead of attending "fun" portions of school.
For a while I completely bought into the concept that is implicently stamped into so many books: that books are the most important thing, that they are what hold society together, and they are what keep us free and permit the transmission of ideas. From The Giver to Fahrenheit 451 books, and storytelling in general, are projected as the foundations of safety and freedom respectively.
About the time when I finished Witch Week and one of the main characters was going to save the world by telling stories, as if the power to explain why everything is would erase the problems, as if all people who were at odds with one another were really victims of some huge misunderstanding and not persons with competing interests, was about the time when I got thoroughly fed up with this concept. It seemed extremely popular but hopelessly stupid.
***
"You guys are my team," I can hear Crash say to his latest group of students for the summer. He's nearly beside himself with excitement, to the point where I believe he is beginning to alarm some of his workers.
"Everybody's relying on us you know. Communications are the most important part of any project you know, you can have the best machine in the world but if you can't get the data off it you did it all for nothing."
There is a slight pause where the new students look at one another. I turn to Crash and smile a little bit.
"Oh course," Crash adds, thinking he has offended me, "Software is really important too you know."
It's a silly thought. We only put systems on the robots which are absolutely critical and the robot won't work without. Why would anybody pay for a part the robot didn't need to function? All our subteams, by this definition, are critical.
"Everybody's relying on us you know. Communications are the most important part of any project you know, you can have the best machine in the world but if you can't get the data off it you did it all for nothing."
There is a slight pause where the new students look at one another. I turn to Crash and smile a little bit.
"Oh course," Crash adds, thinking he has offended me, "Software is really important too you know."
It's a silly thought. We only put systems on the robots which are absolutely critical and the robot won't work without. Why would anybody pay for a part the robot didn't need to function? All our subteams, by this definition, are critical.
***
"Its going to be really hard you know," he says gravely.
"I'm prepared to work hard," the economist says, "I really believe I have thought up the next great business, and if I need to learn to program to do it so be it."
"It has taken me 10 years to learn to program," another voice joins in, "and I'm still not good at it yet."
I look across the Torii and consider things for a minute. The latest speaker is currently on sabatical at Google and has been involved in a wide array of other impressive things. His modesty is wonderful, but severely alarming to the economist who is progressively looking more and more nervous.
"Don't sweat it kid," I say. "Look, we're programmers. This is our life's work. Nobody wants to believe that their life's work is easy, that they are replaceable, or that their work isn't critically needed. We've worked hard to get where we are. That's what all these stories boil down to; but I believe that there isn't any reason you can't get here too with a little hard work."
"I'm prepared to work hard," the economist says, "I really believe I have thought up the next great business, and if I need to learn to program to do it so be it."
"It has taken me 10 years to learn to program," another voice joins in, "and I'm still not good at it yet."
I look across the Torii and consider things for a minute. The latest speaker is currently on sabatical at Google and has been involved in a wide array of other impressive things. His modesty is wonderful, but severely alarming to the economist who is progressively looking more and more nervous.
"Don't sweat it kid," I say. "Look, we're programmers. This is our life's work. Nobody wants to believe that their life's work is easy, that they are replaceable, or that their work isn't critically needed. We've worked hard to get where we are. That's what all these stories boil down to; but I believe that there isn't any reason you can't get here too with a little hard work."
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