I don't have to write about the future. For most people, the present is enough like the future to be pretty scary.
The future is here. It's just not widely distributed yet.
The future has already arrived. It's just not evenly distributed yet.
Dreaming in public is an important part of our job description, as science writers, but there are bad dreams as well as good dreams. We're dreamers, you see, but we're also realists, of a sort.
Time moves in one direction, memory in another.
Cyberspace: A consensual hallucination experienced daily by billions of legitimate operators, in every nation.
I've had a growing frustration, particularly when I would go out and do book tours and interviews. I got frustrated with people asking me, How do you know what the future is going to be like? And I'd always say, I don't.
The box was a universe, a poem, frozen on the boundaries of human experience.
The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead station.
And, for an instant, she stared directly into those soft blue eyes and knew, with an instinctive mammalian certainty, that the exceedingly rich were no longer even remotely human.
For years I have been mourning and not for my dead, it is for this boy for whatever corner in my heart died when his childhood slid out of my arms.
Why shouldn't we give our teachers a license to obtain software, all software, any software, for nothing? Does anyone demand a licensing fee, each time a child is taught the alphabet?
It's impossible to move, to live, to operate at any level without leaving traces, bits, seemingly meaningless fragments of personal information.
The 'Net is a waste of time, and that's exactly what's right about it.
Generation X is dead. It has come to mean anyone aged 13 to 55 years old.