Skip to main content

Limit to optimisation

Whenever I look at some of the old technology, I can't help but think, "That was normal for the time!" Spending several minutes setting up a film roll, or the effort spent on trying to dial in a phone number was never looked at as tedious or time-consuming during that age. 

Unless given something to contrast with, any process/thing seems normal for us humans. A similar thought occurred to me when reading a book. Anyone who has seen a book doesn't think much while flipping through it, or writing in it. But for a person in the far future, a book will be looked at the same way we look at stone tablets. Ancient and delicate. This shift to digital media is already underway and I can't help but think, is there a limit? A limit to the extent of optimisation and comforts.

Recent previous generations did not know how to carve on stone walls, or thatch a hut. Ours, does not know how to dial a number in a vintage telephone. The future generation shall never know how to flip the pages of a simple book.

With the progression of ease in our lives, is there a limit to optimisation? It may seem so considering that the only thing stopping us is our physical forms and the speed of human evolution. But then again, a man operating a dial phone would never have thought that the phone itself could remember the number! However imaginative we get in our sci-fi futuristic visions, we never truly know what we will come up with. 

Coming to the original question, My answer would be, only as long as we have breakthroughs in the Biological field will technology progress beyond a point.

Humans have been evolving for 6 million years and the change from 'inventing the wheel' to 'flying in Jet-liner' took just 5000 years. 

The ratio of evolution time to technology development comes to about 6,000,000 yrs / 5000 yrs = 1200. Meaning that at an average, every year given to human bodies to evolve is equivalent to about 1200 years worth of technological development!! And to think that only 200 years were enough to go from the ENIAC to iPhone 13 Pro. (not sponsored 🥲 )

   

As long as we evolve at the same rate, technology will remain bounded by our limitations. Mobile phones have no scope of compaction, keyboards will be bulky, and space suits will be huge.

Comments

Popular Posts

An Ode to Rain

  An Ode to Rain “So what’s your favourite time of the year?” she asked, swinging a crossed foot lazily in the air, as she swirled a stirrer in a tiny cup of hot chocolate. Perhaps the time when I used to lick melted drops of vanilla from the back of my hand? blind to the fact that I was painting a modern art piece on the pavement with ice cream. What a charming memory.  Summer, I should say.  What about the little shivers my feet do, tucked away in the layers of heavy blankets, while my nose and ears complain of the biting cold to my toes.   Hot soups, lazy mornings, clouds from the mouth when I speak and hoodies with cosy pockets to slide my hands into.  Winter beats summer, surely.  To be fair, I was born in spring, the perfect gradient from the cold seasons to hot summers. Just the right temperature, reasonably humid with a drizzle of rain here and there. It had never been dramatic enough to create a lasting memory of itself though. Glancing out the caf...

My Notes-app Up For Auction

It’s a late night with Alex Turner on full blast in my ears, never on the speakers though.  To make others around feel the full weight of unsolicited emotion of music, feels wrong. Who am I kidding, perhaps they don’t feel a thing. How rude. The flair of words seems to have abandoned me today so it’ll be bare bones. I find myself constantly backspacing the words I type with a vigour. A quickly written sentence followed by a slight pause full of fear, before my finger reaches out to the delete button on the far right. Desperately trying to put the tarp back on naked emotions uncovered bare. No more backspacing though. I’ve even gotten rid of the Grammarly extension. It shows me how a sentence rephrased, sounds more assertive but I digress. Enough fine tuning. Times like these I wish I had a typewriter. Imagine a canvas pedestal with hands, pointing to the parts where the acrylic paints fail to smudge. No one would ever pick up a paintbrush. Okay, enough rambling. This would have bee...

To Sculpt a Poem

Sometimes, I wish I was Michelangelo.  I wish I could see the angel, Before I set her free from the stone,  My mind. But alas, I am no sculptor nor painter. Us writers, we are magicians, mages and warlocks. Conjuring words from thin air, Stringing them together as we go. Sometimes,  I wish I could peek at her tender hands through the uncut rock. So I may chip away stone day and night to carve them to perfection. But, I possess no hammer, chisel nor rake. Sounds trapped in letters. Letters stitched to form words. Words which I must now weave, Into a warm winter blanket that shall not exist in the real world. The real world.. where it's cold. Ah yes. Words. They are the only tools I wield. How do I ever see my creation like Michelangelo saw his angels, When I am being asked to embrace her, Before I pour life to her very inception? - P.S