In the space age, string still snarls

In the space age, string still snarls
Originally published 6 May 1985

In one of H. G. Wells’ books a char­ac­ter asks for “a ball of string that won’t dis­solve into a tan­gle.” Almost a cen­tu­ry lat­er, we have tamed the atom and sent a man to the moon, but balls of string still end up in jum­bled knots.

Not long ago I came across a lit­tle pam­phlet called “What’s Want­ed,” pub­lished 57 years ago by the British Insti­tute of Paten­tees. It list­ed, for prospec­tive inven­tors, 300 things that the world need­ed in 1928.

It seems to me that the list makes a sat­is­fac­to­ry yard­stick by which to mea­sure the progress of our times: How many of the 300 required items are avail­able in 1985?

Some of the items on the 1928 list are now com­mon­place. “The trans­mis­sion of speech by light” (#92) has been made pos­si­ble with glass fibers and lasers. The tele­phone com­pa­ny moves speech by light through many Amer­i­can cities.

Wire­less tele­vi­sion” (#183) and “pho­to­graph­ic paper for col­or prints” (#239) have been around for so long that it is hard to imag­ine a world with­out them.

A device to cor­rect mis­takes made on a type­writer” (#32) has final­ly arrived. I am typ­ing this col­umn on a Mac­in­tosh word processor.

I have in the kitchen “an elec­tric toast­er that will cut off the cur­rent just before the toast begins to burn” (#171), at least most of the time.

And it is prob­a­bly safe to say that “non-slip soles for foot­ware” (#110) have been struck from the list of press­ing needs.

A machine where­by a bot­tle of liq­uid refresh­ment could be obtained after the clos­ing time of pubs” (#124) is no longer a tech­no­log­i­cal prob­lem: if it were not for licens­ing laws there would undoubt­ed­ly be a “liq­uid refresh­ment” machine on every street corner.

A device for darn­ing socks” (#117) was made super­flu­ous by the advent of cheap syn­thet­ic fibers. The lit­tle pam­phlet from the British Insti­tute for Paten­tees makes it clear the device was required only “for bachelors.”

But before you begin to take too much pride in the inven­tive genius of our cen­tu­ry, let me point out that the real­ly cru­cial items on the 1928 list are as sore­ly need­ed today as yesterday.

There is still no way to “pre­vent the stale smell of cig­ars from accu­mu­lat­ing in closed rooms” (#26).

Nor have vast sums of fed­er­al dol­lars for sci­en­tif­ic research and devel­op­ment found “some­thing to pre­vent fluff under beds” (#39).

We have nuclear pow­er plants and mis­siles that fly 4000 miles to land on a dime, but many of us are still wait­ing for “an effec­tive dan­de­lion extrac­tor” (#195).

The world still wants “some­thing to grow hair on a bald head” (#153), “a cure for indi­ges­tion” (#279), and “a means to keep men’s pants from get­ting bag­gy at the knees” (#283).

Let some­one invent the lat­ter items and I will con­cede civ­i­liza­tion a mea­sure of progress after all.

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