iPhony reality

 
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By Christian Nielsen

We’re entering a world of augmented reality (AR) which might sound scary to rational-thinking grown-ups but perfectly natural to iPhone-savvy toddlers.

Thursday 17 February 2011

Augmented reality is the place between virtual reality – where you can walk, talk, or act out in alternate worlds, like Avatar – and, well, reality. Reality, to those struggling with the concept, is the place where unpaid electricity bills mean no more computer games, or where kids get up at 6am every Sunday.

While this augmented world might seem a little way out to anyone born in the 1970s or earlier, the millennium generation has no beef with it. They’ve grown up with the sort of hand-held wizardry that their elders only read about in sci-fi books.

Teens and pre-teens nowadays can fire off sweet nothing messages to ‘tweople’, or ‘twits’ if you prefer, just round the corner or on the other side of the world while riding their bike or walking through the mall. Though multitasking mayhem can ensue – watch this twit fall into a fountain while texting. The woman in the video was later quoted as saying, “texting and walking at the same time is dangerous.” She says she could have been walking in front of a bus!

I guess in the augmented world, the tweet or text would go something like … “Bus coming straight for me! LOL” If you don’t want to take her testimony then it’s probably a good idea to become a better multitasker and learn to be tweet smart –sorry about that one!

Of toddlers and birds

Two-year-olds who’ve been allowed to play Angry Bird or other popular apps on their dad’s iPhone or who have become familiar with touch-screen technology now toddle up to the television and start sweeping their sticky little fingers across the screen like the rated G version of Minority Report. When nothing happens they look at you, the Fat Controller, raise their chubby hands and shrug, as if to say “what kind of low-tech rubbish is this?”

Meanwhile, the Facebook generation are signing up – in some cases not, but that’s a potential legal story – to ‘Locate me’ with gusto, like it is perfectly natural that your every move should be documented, that this phenomenal invasion of privacy is kinda cool because you can meet your friends, like, spontaneously.

And this is where AR picks up an existential tinge. How spontaneity could even exist in a world where every utterance and physical expulsion is scrupulously documented by the world’s best documentary maker – you – is beyond me and beyond anyone who still watches TV at night.

The iPhone is ground zero for the growing class of ‘augmented realtors’. According to the fans at iPhoneNess: “Augmented reality is one of the most exciting technologies around. If you have watched some of those modern Hollywood movies, you have probably seen how our world would look 20-30 years from now. Who knows when augmented applications become mainstream but they are already making their way to the iPhone platform. Augmented reality is the future but thanks to these augmented reality apps for iPhone, you can experience the future today.”

These guys offer up a long list of current apps to prove their point. Everything from golf range-finding gadgets and trekking tools to experimental solutions for colour-blindness. And the thing that strikes this old-school technophile is that a lot of these apps and mashups combining, for instance, satellite geo-location technology which pinpoints your exact location and mobile navigation devices, are not (or perhaps should not be) kids stuff. They are practical applications for grown-ups like me who took up golf when real sports got too hard.

But like the first-wave attempt to make a success of e-commerce and the dot-com bomb of the 1990s, the grown-ups today are just not clued-up or interested enough to fully appreciate what’s out there in the AR sphere. But toddlers to teenagers have no preconceptions about technology. It just is what it is, like milk is quite good on cereal.

Every day new apps are created. Some are very innovative and might one day save your life, some like Angry Birds are simple and a bit of fun for young and old. Others, which combine geo-location technology and social networking, tell us a bit about our society and in particular younger people’s willingness or need to commune in the virtual world. And their disregard for privacy and even safety.

But maybe this notion of privacy and identity is what augmented reality is all about. It brings into question age-old beliefs and many a good philosophical theory. Philosophers tell us identity is what ever makes an entity definable and recognisable. It comes from the Latin identitas or ‘sameness’. Leibniz supposed that two things sharing every attribute are not merely similar but must indeed be the same thing.

So if in this augmented world, whether Second Life or just sophisticated apps on iPhones, if we accept this world without question, and represent ourselves as our avatars or other personas, are we losing or gaining identity? Are we similar or the same? Are we cool or another banal member of the commune?

Perhaps it won’t matter in the end. Perhaps these are ponderings of a generation that is trying to hold fast to two-dimensional formats like terrestrial TV. Of course our kids don’t ask the questions and perhaps don’t need to. All they want to know is why they can’t sweep across to Sesame Street from Dora the Explorer on that thing in the corner of the living room.

This article is published here with the author’s permission. ©Christian Nielsen. All rights reserved.

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Psion of things to come – technology’s curse

 
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By Christian Nielsen

Christian Nielsen’s long-dead Psion Organiser is a constant reminder never to buy any technology that promises to help him remember things.

9 July 2009

001“It’s dead!” I shouted down the stairs to my wife. We didn’t have any animals and keep a relatively rodent-and insect-free house, so she really had no idea what had bit the dust in my attic turned office.

“My Psion is no more!” I felt like proclaiming to the uncaring streets. The small keypad-like organiser-cum-still-born microcomputer was my entrée to the world of handhelds, of people in fashionable suits travelling to important places.

Of course, I knew these elite people mostly had Palm thingies that could do some amazing (in the late 1990s sense of the word) stuff, like emailing on the move and sending documents which would magically appear on the other side of the world, but I had to be different, dare I say “special”.

As a journalist, words were my thing. Lots of them. I hated the idea of carrying round kilos of dead weight in the form of a so-called laptop for an overnight job. I hated even more the stupid function of ‘penning-in’ (if that’s the right expression) each letter to form words. I went for the light but what I thought to be future-proof option. And the Psion did more than I could have hoped. Not only did it create copy on the go, but it faithfully served as a secretary as well.

I spent untold hours tapping in all my personal data, agenda items and contacts. I even learnt – alas only after many days of manual inputting – how to synchronise the little dynamo with my desktop. Of course, I left the cable Psion provided for doing this in a hotel somewhere and it just seemed easier to keep all the data in the handheld. A crucial mistake.

One day, I got talking with my brother-in-law, the technology ‘go to’ guy, about the electronic tools we both ministered over. As people scurried here and there to their departure lounges, he said almost casually that he feared with the Psion that I would end up with an electronic whore that refuses to put out. I laughed, but the remark stung a little. I mean, this is a guy that always carried the latest gizmos, had the right mobile contracts to make them work, and he usually even knew how to use the bloody things!

I asked what he meant by that. He told me the Canadian company that made Psions had big ideas, but wondered if it would survive the handheld wars long enough to put them into practice. He had heard that the company was working on something they were calling a netbook and that it promised to be the mini-computing format I was after but somehow connected ‘wirelessly’ as well.

“So I’d always get what I wanted out of my whore,” I mused. It all sounded so exciting… but surely improbable.

His flight to Stockholm was soon departing. Pocketing – only just – his first-generation Nokia Communicator, he headed towards the first-class lounge. I waved goodbye with my trusty Psion held high – or so I recalled – as I sloped off with the rest of the economy passengers to my Brussels flight. When I got home, my Psion was nowhere to be found.

Gatwick airport authorities returned it to me a week later, or what was left of it!

A few years – and a couple of mobile gadget generations – passed and my brother-in-law had something new up his tailored sleeve, something he called his Black Book. It sounded exotic and, no doubt, cutting edge. Flushed with envy, I begged him for a feel. He showed it to me, discreetly but with an air of nonchalance that you would expect a seasoned technophile to bear.

And how glorious it was. So compact and light – fitting quite naturally into his palm – yet sturdy and reliable looking. He opened it, pulled out a low-tech pen and wrote my new mobile phone number on one of the blank pages. Again, I had learnt from the master. And, yes, I had lost another mobile phone – my contacts and dreams of mastering technology along with it.

Would technology’s curse ever leave my side?

What cleverness comes

Skip forward nearly a decade and it is looking like Psion knew something no-one else did. Ipso facto does that mean my relationship with technology has been more visionary than visceral all these years? Maybe.

Today, as I tap cleverly into my ASUS Eee PC, the frontrunner of the ultralite computers now taking the world by storm, I feel like I might just be welcome in the first-class lounge. And the ultralite computing sensation, the netbook, was Psion’s parting gift, to a hell of a lot of us, apparently.

Netbook sales have skyrocketed from 400,000 in 2007 to 11.4 million in 2008 – the lion’s share apparently gobbled up by Europeans. This trend looks set to continue in 2009, with predicted sales of 35 million (ABI Research), growing to as much as 139 million by 2013. This phenomenal growth is being driven by a parallel rise in web-based applications and mobile networking.

What does it mean to me?

The Psion I display in my office is no longer the stain it once was. It has transmogrified into a magnificent birthmark, a discrete sign worn by those in the know. All who bear this mark know and understand that it’s not size that matters, but where you put it – the data, that is. And for this, the ultralites head for the clouds, where you beg, borrow or steal unused computing power all fed to your little package through the world wonderful web.

It doesn’t matter that these netbooks have no CD-ROM drive, because anything you want to watch, save, find or play is on the web anyway. I’m sure it’s what Psion had in mind. I’m sure I knew that, too.

This article is published with the author’s permission. © Copyright – Christian Nielsen. All rights reserved.

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