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Letters will not so easily go astray. It will be safer to walk the streets because people will not need to carry large amounts of cash; virtually all financial transactions will be conducted by computer. In the microelectronic global village, the home will again be the center of society, as it was before the Industrial Revolution.
Mass production of the miracle chip has already made possible home computer systems that sell for less than $800—and prices will continue to fall. Many domestic devices that use electric power may be computerized. Eventually, the household computer will be as much a part of the home as the kitchen sink; it will program washing machines, burglar and fire alarms, sewing machines, a robot vacuum cleaner and a machine that will rinse and stack dirty dishes. When something goes wrong with an appliance, a question to the computer will elicit repair instructions —in future generations, repairs will be made automatically. Energy costs will be cut by a computerized device that will direct heat to living areas where it is needed, and turn it down where it is not; the device's ubiquitous eye, sensing where people are at all times, will similarly turn the lights on and off as needed.
Paper clutter will disappear as home information management systems take over from memo pads, notebooks, files, bills and the kitchen bulletin board. Michael Dertouzos, director of M.I.T.'s computer-science laboratory, keeps in his home computer all financial data, income tax records, things-to-do lists, appointments, phone numbers and the equivalent of a desk calendar. His children even compose their Christmas cards with the help of the ever obliging minicomputer.
If an M.I.T. professor has seen the future and is making it work, so, appropriately, is the city of Columbus, Ohio. This New Atlantis since last December has become the prototype electronic village. The Columbian connection is called QUBE (pronounced cube). Described by its developers, Manhattan-based Warner Cable Corp., as the first large-scale use of "participatory TV," QUBE provides paying subscribers with 30 television channels (Columbus has only four regular TV stations) that include all-day, nonviolent programs for preschool children, educational films, first-run movies, live sports events, college credit courses and soft-core porn, all without censorship or commercial breaks.
For a base charge of $10.95 a month, the QUBE subscriber can voice his opinions in local political debates, conduct garage sales and bid for objets d'art in a charity auction. QUBE is the first major system in which the viewer can talk back to the tube. By pressing a button, Joe or Jane Columbus can quiz a politician, or turn electronic thumbs down or up on a local amateur talent program, à la Gong Show. QUBE supplies specialized programs for doctors and lawyers; the local newspaper asks viewers to evaluate its features; advertisers pretest commercials for audience reaction. Columbus' multifaceted QUBE also comparison-shops the local supermarkets and makes it possible to book a table at an Oriental restaurant and order the meal in advance. Oh, Brave New World! Hail, Columbus!
While it may be a number of years before the average housewife can do her shopping by computer TV, the basic instrumentation is already in place in an ever growing number of supermarkets.