Technologists these days have been hard at work building 3D visual overlays, augmenting how you see the world. As it were, fanboys and fangirls have been hard at work telling us about our future in homemade videos; but, as technology advances, the real world will only get more real.

For the luddites and techies among my readership, please find the following video below and watch it as a point of discussion.

For the same reasons humanoid robots never seem to make the shelves of Walmart, this future vision (double-meaning intended) will never happen for the mass market—it’s too costly.

Let’s start with the cost of providing vision modification technology, enumerating by scenario:

Case 1: Camera Hacks. Some iPhone apps, like the Yelp application, have basic augmented reality features that overlay information over a video panel of whatever it is you’re looking at. The hardware cost is low, but the fact remains your augmented vision requires that you hold a piece of technology out in front of you like a goober. Offloading vision augmentation into a handheld device is clumsy and usually inconvenient; it’s a neat trick, but not much more.

Case 2: Super Glasses. Science fiction (e.g. Snow Crash, Accelerando, Caprica, Iron Man) often feature HUD-enhanced glasses that identify other people, overlay environmental information, or display text or video messages from others. Yet, fiction forgets that mobile embedded devices have (and will continue to have) issues trading off performance for reliable power. Modifying a scene in believable real-time 3D is difficult enough for an array of 3D rendering machines at Pixar, much less a pair of Ray Bans. The power and heat requirements would simply be too taxing to prove usable, and vision-augmenting would be limited to short bursts, not useful for regular wear.

Not to mention, glasses move around on faces throughout the day. The display would have to constantly correct for the minor, but highly sensitive differences as the glasses move around ever so slightly on the wearer’s moving head. And, like watching Avatar in 3D, you’ll develop a slight headache unless the optics are almost near perfect and consistent.

If—big if—you manage to mitigate these issues, how much is it going to cost you?

Case 3: Tiny Projectors. Imagine a micro-projector outfitted somewhere on where an image can be projected on your retina, fooling your eye into seeing things that aren’t actually there. Can’t imagine it? Neither can I—mostly for the reasons mentioned in Case 2.

Case 4: Optical Nerve Hacks. Imagine a device that could intercept the signal relayed from the retina to the optic nerve as it his the vision cells on the neocortex and offloads visual rendering and modification to a nearby machine, you still have to deal with the matter of bandwidth in rendering an enhanced vision for your neocortex so that it can make sense of it. But, if that technology were possible, why would you waste time, effort, and cost on only making things look more real or understandable. Why not make things simply more real or understandable at the fundamental level of understanding?…

…which brings us to

My Hunch: As technology moves forward, there’s little doubt that we’ll eventually find a way to make visual image enhancement commonplace. (Naysayers: thirty years ago, what if I told you that people would, en masse, elect to have lasers reshape their corneas, circumventing the need for glasses?)

If we’re at the point, as in Case 4, that we would elect to enhance vision directly to the neocortex, why not enhance the neocortex itself?

Strange as it may sound, the neurons in the neocortex that handle and make sense of your taste, your touch, your smell, and your sight, are identical. Instead, depending on what input they’re connected to, the neurons arrange themselves and adapt themselves to make sense of the signals coming into them.

Neurons are pretty neat in this respect. Watch how sensors on the tongue can help the blind to see.

Imagine, if you could, connecting a sensor to a portion of your neocortex (presumptively an area that was of very little use to you) and training your brain to make sense of that information coming in. What if it were a digital source, like the entire contents of Wikipedia?

As of January 2010, Wikipedia, including all of its images and all of its text, totals 2.8 Terabytes, or 2867 Gigabytes. If memory density increases 20% a year (as it has been) for the next 21 years, you’ll be able to fit Wikipedia into memory the size of the fingernail on your pinky. You could certainly fit a pinky nail underneath your skull.

So, if you could implant information directly on your brain and your neocortex could make sense of it, why would you need augmented reality? Your brain would do the work automatically. Say for instance that you, in 2010, wanted to look up “portmanteau”, you’d have to pick up a dictionary or type that word into the Internet, read the definition, understand the definition, and then apply it contextually. With a chip on your neocortex, you’d just know it. You would know it just like you can read this sentence without thinking too much about the character-by-character construction of its words. You would just know.

By the same token, when you looked at someone, you would just know their name. Or, when you looked at the Eiffel Tower, you would know when it was built, who designed it, who installed the elevators, and it’s mass in kilograms (or pounds) as easily as you see that it’s colored dark brown.

With deep vision into everything you were looking at, why in the world would you need something as crude as a live-drawn diagram to tell you how to make a pot of tea?

You wouldn’t— it’s too costly. And, as discussed above, you would just know the motions and the recipe by heart.

By the time technology capable of feeding modifications to your vision arrives, we should be able to augment your neocortex. This can, in turn, create real knowledge inside your head based on linked data pools. It’d be the end of visual infographics and the start of just data.

Linking data in your head, live, is cheaper, faster, more reliable, no matter how you slice it. And, until we can connect to the data inside your head, always-on Augmented Reality is too expensive—socially, technologically, economically—to become a reality.

Through school, students write papers to demonstrate subject knowledge, less so to articulate original thought. Old habits die hard, people start blogging, and in this age of instant worldwide publishing, we end up chewing on a lot of cud.

It’s not that people are boring, stupid, or have nothing to say– (though, that’s debatable…) Years of response-based writing inclines people to offer reactions than articulate their own, original ideas.

It’s much easier to write reactions than create ideas and be wrong. Save nothing of the social anxieties for being wrong, describing new ideas is a hard thing to do.

People tend to follow the path of least resistance and thus the blogosphere saturates itself with commentary. And, since the blogosphere moves with such great velocity, it’s near impossible to keep track of everything that’s been said. 

Unfortunately, all contributions — and I use that term loosely – are indexed and compiled into the same channel. We call it “Google”, and the signal-to-noise ratio goes up. Way up.

Responses typically fall into certain categories. (Ask anyone who grades papers or reads hundreds of blogs.) With blogging, there’s just more. It seems more people are interested in demonstrating knowledge than contributing new thought.

My theory is that this happens subconsciously. Years of response-based education create this need– it’s how we were graded by our superiors and evaluated by our peers. People need to show that they know something.

There’s no problem with that, except that this need generates millions of blog posts. In result, we saturate our knowledge space and make it near impossible to wade through.

Outside the SXSW Bloghaus in Austin last month, some guy was hanging near the door handing out wristbands. Me, a sucker for swag, approached the guy and said, “Hey, can I have one?” He turns to me, says ‘sure!’, and hands me a wrist band. “Thanks!” I said, “My name’s Michael. Who are you and what’s your story?” 

And that’s how I met Gary Vaynerchuk. Up until that moment, I hadn’t heard of Gary or winelibrary.tv. We spoke for a couple of minutes about how crazy I thought he was for answering his thousands of daily e-mails in lieu of delegating. Then it struck me as not so crazy: here’s a guy who cared so much about his job (wine) and his community that he made it his lifeblood. (I’m omitting a joke about transubstantiation right here.)

I ran into him later that night in the lobby of a hotel where about a hundred people had gathered. I went over to say hello but before I open my mouth he puts bottle of wine in my hand, “Gruen! Take this!” (I wasn’t wearing a name tag), raising another bottle to toast mine. At 2am, this man has energy.

“Gary, we’re so hanging out when we get back to New York.”

“Definitely! Now DRINK!” [sic]

…

Three days ago, I went to New York’s NextWeb Meetup and ran into Gary. Though we hadn’t talked since SXSW, he remembered me and we went right back to shooting the shit, with me making fun of his e-mailing habits.

So, it should come as no surprise that Gary could galvanize the social media world and beyond in an unedited two-minute video clip. Today is Good Person Day 2008, so spread it on.

George Carlin packages his routine into essay-style rants. While he occasionally injects a one-liner to keep the joke lively, the real humor is his thesis. Yet, some people crack-up after every line whether he tells a joke or not.

Unfamiliar? Watch this. (If you listen carefully, you can hear scattered laughter between clauses.)

Consensus says George Carlin is funny. So, the theory goes, if he’s performing than everything must be funny.

Good comedians use feedback to evaluate their material. Poor George Carlin doesn’t get the luxury of an “honest” response. Consequently, his work deteriorates and his comedy becomes less funny.

Likewise, as “thought leaders” (I hate that term) gain larger followings, their cheerleaders become more vocal. Consequently, they hear less useful feedback and their whole world deteriorates.

I’m starting to wonder if tech thought leaders and their followers are getting too loud.

More: George Carlin – Religion is Bullshit, George Carlin – Pro-life is Anti-Woman

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Personal Notes:

When I saw George Carlin live a few years back, I sat in front of two women who giggled uncontrollably after every sentence. I turned around to scoff at them, but then I noticed others throughout the audience were also laughing out of turn.

It didn’t seem to matter what he was saying: they laughed at everything. It bothered me. And, I’m pretty sure it bothered him.

I was in the third row.

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Also, I used to watch Leo Laporte on the Screen Savers, every night, for years. Infinite respect to him, but I’m wondering if it’s time for a changing of the guard.

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Article edited since posting for clarity.

I have this romantic notion that the deepest friendships come about only through face-to-face interactions. Regrettably, I feel we are losing our ability to appreciate and understand the complexities of each other unless it’s though a blog post, e-mail, or text message.

Technology enables us to be ‘on’ all the time– which practically means we’re never off. Modern communication is instantaneous, interruptive, and incessant; and, we cope with it by multitasking. And with technology always on, we’re losing the ability to turn multitasking off.

This is especially disconcerting in social situations: we automatically anticipate distractions in moments when there’s nothing to distract us, and that awareness distracts us from each other. Sometimes we’ll artificially create a distraction to fill a void. We can’t help but multitask; and when we do, we lose detail, complexity, and depth. (Yes, even you.)

The funny thing is that technology enables us to maintain close relationships with a greater number of people. But, in doing so, we implicitly devalue face-time and forgo possibly deeper relationships. Something feels off when I feel closer to friends through e-mail and blogs than through time spent together.

I hope this isn’t the case with me. In fact, that’s the point of this post: if you ever feel I’m not giving you my full attention or I am using technology as a blanket, call me out on it. Unmediated communication is too important and I’d like to stop being a victim of my distractibility.

More: NPR: How Multitasking Affects Human Learning, Time: The Multitasking Generation

In my last post on michaelgruen.com, I charged that blogging tends towards inanity and verbosity. That sentiment remains; but, in following a strict set of guidelines, I think I can satisfy my laconic inclinations while still providing digestible content.

Think word sushi: delicately-prepared high-quality content that’s easy to consume.

The guidelines:

1. The post should take no longer than a minute or two to read. The average adult can read 250 words per minute. 300 words should be more than sufficient to make a point.
2. The post opens with a statement of 140 characters or less because anything worth saying can be compressed into a Twitter-sized nugget. This statement is the core message of the post. Additionally, it doubles as a summary so visitors need not re-read the entire post to remember the punch line. And, quite obviously, it provides a “tweetable” hook to the content.
3. A short phrase cannot always capture an entire thought. So, a brief introduction follows to contextualize the opening statement. 50 words or less should do.
4. Following the Twitter-sized précis and brief introduction, the bulk of the post is largely free-form. In this case, it’s an enumerated definition of a new form.
5. The post concludes with an optional final thought, consideration, or link to more information.

This post opens with 112 characters. This entire post comprises 271 words and takes under a minute to read. It took me just under an hour to write.

And that’s the point: Posts should take longer to prepare than to digest.