Cousin Corbett ripped open my bag of potato chips, scattering a few on the kitchen floor. As each of my three cats, in turn, sniffed the chips and walked away disdainfully, Corbett announced that he had become a futurist.
"I guess I don't know much about futurists," I admitted, "But it sounds like you, all right. Are you any good? What's your track record on predictions?"
He sighed as he bit into a chip. "You don't know anything about futurism. The First Rule of Futurism is "A futurist looks forward, not back.'"
"So being a futurist means never having to say you're sorry?"
"That's it. Want to hear some futurism?"
"I can't tell you how much. Do you suppose I could have one of those chips?"
"In a minute. I want your full attention. Listen. "Corporate intranets will be the business offices of the next decade. C will be the Cobol of the year 2000. Computer stores will become obsolete in three years as consumers buy generic machines in appliance stores and software off the Net. Human interface designers had better get to work on the TV remote, because the home computer of the future will be a set-top box.' How's that for futurism?"
In an exuberant gesture he flipped a chip across the kitchen and neatly into the sink, whereupon Ariel, who had been sulking there since sniffing the dropped chips, leaped out and shot across the floor like a scared kitten.
Corbett stared after her. "Was it something I said?"
"Probably. Frankly, what you said sounds like standard technophilic exaggeration to me."
"Sure, sure. Everybody overestimates the obvious trends. So wouldn't I be a boring futurist if I didn't? But overestimating trends isn't the most important thing a futurist does."
"I'm glad to hear that." I managed to snag a chip, and Frizzy, thinking that this time, surely, it was something edible, rubbed against my leg.
"No, the most important thing is to find a trend or phenomenon that everybody else is underestimating."
"And then you estimate it accurately?"
"No, no, you overestimate it. I told you to pay attention. Give me that chip."
"Well then, what's your phenomenon that everybody else is underestimating?"
He leaned closer and said in a stage whisper, "Microsoft hating."
"You're kidding. That's an underestimated phenomenon?"
"Totally. You'd be amazed at the number of people who want to see Microsoft fail. Journalists, of course, hoping for the big story. The Feds, who'd like to wipe some of the egg off the Justice Department's face. Competitors, obviously. Anybody who'd like to be richer, smarter, and more powerful, is eager to see the rich, smart, powerful guy fall on his face. Gaaa! There's a cat in this potato chip bag!"
"That's Tiny Precious. She likes bags."
"Hmm. Well, good thing it was empty. Anyway, even among Microsoft investors, 35 percent would like to see Microsoft stumble a little."
"Wait a minute, where do you get numbers like that?"
"Extrapolation, the futurist's friend. I interview noninvestors and extrapolate to investors."
"But--"
"And Microsoft employees! A whopping 58.5 percent of the company's own employees would love to see Microsoft go out of business entirely, at least if it didn't impact their finances adversely."
"Well, that's a pretty unlikely scenario, isn't it?" Tiny Precious poked her head out of the bag.
"Not the way they see it. What you don't realize is that 58.5 percent of Microsoft employees have a great idea for a software product that would make them millionaires if they just didn't have to compete with Microsoft."
"But Corbett, suppose Microsoft did crash and burn. Wouldn't that take a lot of the fun out of being a futurist?"
"Maybe. But I do have this great idea for a software product..."
Tiny Precious crawled back in the bag.
Michael Swaine
editor-at-large
mswaine@cruzio.com