So I just watched a “teaser” video for a new Microsoft product called Hololens.
It seems like what it does is project, in three dimensions, the kind of stuff that’s usually on your computer screen. It looks like it can project the holographic images onto anything: your wall, your living room floor, even your dining room table, which you’ll then need to wipe down thoroughly if you watch a lot of porn.
The Hololens, which look something like welders’ goggles, allow you to then walk around these 3D projections and interact with them, at least until you try to walk through what you thought was a 3D projection of a brick wall and break your Hololens.
The video suggests a wide variety of applications for this technology, like using a virtual spray paint can to change the color of a virtual toy rocket ship which you can then give to your virtual children who will ultimately save you some money by going to an online college.
In one example, we see a holographic virtual motorcycle as it is approached by an actual designer. “I have an idea for the fuel tank,” she says, and points her finger. A fuel tank magically appears on the motorcycle, thus demonstrating how the Hololens will revolutionize vehicle design so that companies will not forget fuel tanks, and our nation’s highways won’t get clogged with hundreds of furiously pedaling Hell’s Angels.
Supposedly, the Hololens is not a jetpack sort of thing that they tell you will be a reality in a few years, and decades later, you die, jetpackless. The Hololens, Microsoft says, is on the horizon, and will hit the marketplace just as soon as they work the bugs out of Windows Vista.
I’m not saying this because I don’t want my toddler getting into all sorts of holographic trouble. My daughter Casey is 28. What I want is for her to be around 50 when the Hololens is put on sale. That way, I can laugh at her trying to adapt to new technology like she laughs at me when I try to get my iPhone to do something, and I laugh at my mother when she tries to operate her DVD player.
I’ll laugh even harder when Casey’s 20-year-old rolls his eyes and says, “Ma-um” and presses one button to make the 3D projection of the 22nd Doctor Who point his sonic screwdriver at the 3D Dalek which is virtually rolling over the actual family dog.
“What’s the matter, Casey?” I’ll say, as my grandson shakes his head at his mother’s incompetency. “Not up with the latest tech?”
(In case you’re wondering, in the future, my wife and I will be living with Casey in the mansion she shares with her husband who will sell his Internet start-up just as soon as he starts it up.)
“Da-ad,” Casey will respond. “You should talk. Who needed help getting his recliner to launch him into a standing position last week? Who didn’t figure out how to watch Orange is the New Black until its tenth season? Who still drives his car?”
“That’s not fair,” I’ll reply. “I know how to leave the driving to Nissan-san, I just don’t trust him. He thinks speed bumps are dead animals and tries to go around them.”
Maybe it won’t go like that. My point is, Casey will get her technological comeuppance, just like every generation in the history of the world has gotten theirs. I’m sure some smart-ass kid in the late 1800s said, “Da-ad. What are you doing with that candle? We have this little thing called electricity now,” to which his father would have used the candle to whack the kid over the head because parents could do that back then without having child welfare services show up at their door because the kid posted something about his horrible, idiot father who doesn’t even know how to operate a light switch.
The post would have been on a nearby fence.
It may not be the Hololens that makes my daughter look like a fool in front of her kids, but it will be something.
I only hope I’m around to see it.
See you soon.