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After years of hearing the name, I finally read something by Kurt Vonnegut. Player Piano was published in 1952, the year before I came to Canada. The premise is that mechanization has taken over practically everything. Society is divided into the elite - people with jobs - and the unwashed masses, who are relegated either to the army or community service squads. Big Brother, embodied by a supercomputer, looks after everything. IQ scores are made public and determine one's social status, as regulated by The Machine.

In 1952, there were no transistors. The supercomputer uses vacuum tubes and punchcard interfaces, and occupies 32 chambers in Carlsbad Caverns. Women did not hold jobs, and derived their status from their husband's career. Kurt just couldn't imagine the miniaturization of electronics or the run-away social virus of the feminist movement.

Even if the technology is based on outmoded assumptions, the eternal questions remain unchanged. WHAT MAKES LIFE WORTH LIVING? WHAT IS IN OUR BEST INTEREST, AND IS IT OK TO IMPOSE THAT ON US FOR OUR OWN GOOD? IS THERE A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN WHO I AM AND WHAT I DO? WHAT DO I DO WITH MY UNDERUSED TALENTS WHICH ARE SCREAMING TO GET OUT? IS EFFICIENCY THE BE-ALL AND THE END-ALL? DO THE MACHINES REALLY KNOW BETTER? WHAT IF I DECIDE TO BREAK THE RULES AND CHANGE MY LIFE?

WHAT IF? That's the heart of speculative fiction. New horizons, new impossibilities that may not be impossible after all. That's why I like scifi/fantasy so much, and would rather be writing speculative fiction than writing anything else.

Rest in peace, Kurt. You made us think.

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