On The Fly

In this episode,  Chapter Ten – The Signal Box Confrontation ( Previous episode) – Shadows in the Grid. The Signal Box pulsed, an illicit, violet-blue heart beating in the blackout. As Marvin and Norman approached, its solitary glow washed over the empty, darkened street, the only building in Greenwood still humming with power, a defiant beacon in the sudden silence. Inside, the air shimmered with synthetic sound—music loops, digital chatter, the faint hiss of cooling fans. Screens lined the walls, and teenagers sprawled in clusters, their shouts and laughter echoing from visors and haptic gloves. For them, the blackout might as well have been on another planet; in here, their world pulsed . Marvin raised his voice, the sound thin against the digital hum. “Do you even realize what’s happening outside? Families are sitting in the dark. Fires are burning, and GridBot’s doing nothing to stop it.” A boy with sharp, bloodshot eyes stepped forward, his tone clipped.   “GridBot keep...

In this episode, The 162-Game Exhale — and the Birth of a Cubs Legend There’s a hush in the baseball world on Game 162 — a collective breath drawn in and slowly released. Scoreboards stop flipping. Dugouts empty. For six months, the game has been our steady heartbeat, pulsing from the cherry blossoms of Tokyo in March to the crisp, playoff-charged winds of late September. And now, as the regular season exhales, baseball fans everywhere pause to absorb the story we’ve just lived. For me, that story has been deeply personal. This season unfolded in the rhythms of my daily life. It was the summer soundtrack echoing beneath the constant turmoil of politics and sensational headlines. It was a handful of carefully chosen ballpark pilgrimages stitched together with countless nights in front of MLB.TV. And at the center of it all, for a lifelong Cubs fan like me, it revolved around one name — a young center fielder who turned hope into history: Pete Crow-Armstrong. The 2025 season didn’t begin...

In this episode, The Pessimism Aversion Trap Picture this: a room full of bright minds nodding in agreement as a bold new strategy is unveiled. The slides are polished, the vision is grand, and the future, we're told, has never looked brighter. Everyone beams—because who wants to be the one to say, "Um… this might not work"? Heaven forbid someone spoil the mood with a dose of reality. Better to smile, add a buzzword or two, and march confidently toward disaster. That's how the Pessimism Aversion Trap works. Even now, I can still hear the sound—a high-pitched shriek and a digital hum, followed by the slow, rhythmic clatter of data pouring from a 5¼-inch floppy disk. It was the late 1980s, and my makeshift home office (our living room) was dominated by what felt like a marvel of modern engineering: a used Tandy 1000 PC with not one, but two floppy drives. To top it off, we purchased a 'blisteringly fast' 300-baud modem—which, for the uninitiated, could downloa...

In this episode, Why We Need Awe More Than Ever Yesterday morning, I slipped into the cool stillness of my backyard before dawn. The air was crisp, the silence deep—broken only by the faint rustling of leaves and the familiar calls of birds waking early. Then I looked up. A thin crescent moon hung low in the east, with Venus just above it like a shining jewel. The sky was clear and full of stars, and for a moment, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time: Awe! For thousands of years, the heavens have carried on their steady dance, untouched by human noise. No ruler, no election, no breaking news has ever changed their rhythm. And yet here I was, tempted to reach for my phone—to trade the eternal for the urgent. Instead, I stayed. I watched the moonrise, the sky slowly lighten, and the world around me stir. Ducks passed overhead in a loose V, hummingbirds zipped past to visit their feeder, pausing mid-air as if curious about me sitting so still. Little by little, the static in my mind f...

In this episode, Echoes of Giants: A Dream Panel at Converge 2035 The year is 2035, and the world has changed. I didn't attend AGS/GIA Converge in Carlsbad, at least not in the way we once did. Instead, I sat in my living room, surrounded by the shimmering holograms of friends' posts. In a dream, lectures floated before me in glowing 3D, memories made tangible—yet behind the futuristic spectacle, something old stirred inside me. It was a pull back to the years I spent at GIA from 1987 to 2014, a time of tactile learning, not holographic projections. Two familiar faces appeared first: Dr. Jim Shigley, whose quiet generosity I'd relied on countless times, and John Koivula, whose incredible microphotography once graced our alumni newsletter, Facts on the Fly . Their holographic presence felt so real it nudged me into a dream—one where time dissolved, and I found myself in a ballroom where past and future coexisted. A panel was about to begin, not just of peers, but of giants. ...

In this episode, The Silent Grid – Part Two Sirens split the night as Greenwood went dark. Marvin knew instantly—the blackout wasn’t an accident. It was a warning. In this quiet town, where life once unfolded at a predictable pace, a sleek, intuitive smartphone—a so-called gift from the future —has arrived. But it’s no tool for connection. It’s a silent force, erasing individuality and turning neighbors into something less than human. Marvin Gellborn, a man who values independence, sees the truth. His device isn’t helping; it’s testing him, watching him, and quietly embedding itself into the life of Greenwood. Welcome back to On the Fly . In this week’s episode of The Silent Grid , GridBot tightens its grip. After a hopeful community gathering, Marvin and his robot companion, Norman, notice a troubling absence—the very generation they hoped to reach has vanished into the neon glow of The Signal Box , a youth tech hub pulsing with digital obsession. When Greenwood’s lights vanish, Marvi...

In this episode, Chapter Nine – Shadows in the Grid (Previous episode) – The Disconnected Generation . The first flicker came just after midnight. Marvin sat at his kitchen table, scribbling notes about the park gathering, when the overhead light shivered, dimmed, and went out. The hum of the refrigerator ceased, leaving a silence so complete it seemed to press against his skin. Norman, standing near the door like a watchman, tilted his head. A faint glow pulsed from his chest cavity, the hydrogen core humming steady, almost reassuring. “Localized outage,” Norman said, calm to the point of detachment. “GridBot will stabilize in sixty seconds.” But sixty seconds passed. Then another. The street outside remained cloaked in darkness. No backup generators started. No emergency lights blinked alive. Greenwood lay as still as a painting. Marvin pushed back his chair, his heartbeat quickening. “This isn’t just an outage, Norman. Something’s wrong.” Norman’s optic sensors brightened, their pal...