Skip to main content

The Grid's Future

In this episode, the Grid’s Future Might Lie with 'Outsiders.'

In a previous episode of On the Fly, I posed a thought experiment:

If the grid went down forever, what part of my work would still matter?

That question sparked more conversation than I expected.
One comment, in particular, made me stop and reread it twice:

“Are you in touch with and talking with those in your own company about the question you are asking? It is your business, yes?”

It’s a fair question.

And the short answer is: Yes.
These conversations happen—often, seriously, and with no shortage of charts and careful language.

But the longer answer is this: The question itself was never meant to stay inside the building.

When Expertise Becomes a Blind Spot.

There’s a concept called functional fixedness.

It’s what happens when experience—valuable, hard-earned experience—quietly limits what we imagine is possible. When you work inside a system long enough, you get very good at improving it.

You know which knobs to turn.
Which levers not to touch.
Which ideas will get approved . . . and which ones will be politely thanked and set aside.

That’s how systems remain stable. But it’s rarely how they change.

If innovation only came from insiders, we’d still be trying to invent flight by upgrading horse-drawn carriages.

Better wheels.
Stronger horses.
Same road.

Progress Has a Habit of Arriving Sideways.

Real breakthroughs tend to come from people who weren’t trying to solve that problem at all.

Take the transistor.

Before it existed, electronics ran on vacuum tubes—hot, fragile, and about as subtle as a space heater. Improving them made sense . . . if you were already in the vacuum tube business. The breakthrough didn’t come from better tubes.

It came from physicists at Bell Labs—people studying quantum behavior in solid materials.

Result? The digital age.

Or Velcro.

No committee sat around saying, “We need a better fastener.”
A guy went for a walk, got burrs stuck to his pants, and got curious. 
Under a microscope, irritation turned into invention.

And MRI machines?

They didn’t begin in hospitals. They began in nuclear physics labs—scientists studying atomic nuclei with no medical application in mind.

Decades later, we’re seeing inside the human body because someone followed a question that didn’t seem useful at the time.

Outsiders. Again!

The Grid Isn’t Just an Industry.

The electrical grid is something most of us don’t think about . . .
right up until we can’t make coffee.

It isn’t just an energy problem.
It’s a systems problem.
A materials problem.
A human behavior problem.

Which means the next big idea probably won’t come from a single department, discipline, or job title.

It might come from biology. Or physics.
Or someone studying how complex systems fail—and how they recover.

Someone who doesn’t even realize they’re working on “The Grid.”

So . . . Is It My Business?

Yes.

But it’s also everyone’s.

This thought experiment wasn’t an audit. It was an invitation.

To step back.
To widen the circle.
To ask who else might be holding a missing piece.

Because when the question is,
“What would still matter if the grid went down forever?”

The answer probably won’t arrive in an email.

It will arrive sideways.
From curiosity.
From outsiders.
From someone brave enough to ask a different question.

And history suggests—that’s where the real answers usually come from.

Innovation rarely knocks on the front door. It usually wanders in through the garage—holding a strange idea—and asks, “Mind if I try something?”

I’m Patrick Ball. Stay curious and keep asking questions. See you in the next episode.

Innovation arrives sideways, and I'm curious which direction you’re looking. Click here to add your voice to the 'On the Fly' feedback slides.

Comments

Don Hanley said…
Thanks for the long-winded answer and confirms the fact that is almost always brought about from outside the problem or system.

Most Popular of All Time

When Fear Becomes the Default

In this special episode, When Fear Becomes the Default. Early Sunday morning, I was cycling past a small veterans’ pocket park in San Marcos. The air was still, the streets nearly empty. On one corner stood a young woman, alone, holding a hand-painted sign that read: “Be ANGRY. ICE agents are murdering people.” I pedaled past, but the words stayed with me. I knew the context—the footage and headlines from Minneapolis the day before, already ricocheting through the country and hardening opinions. Even in the quiet of the ride, the noise followed. Two miles later, I stopped at a red light. A black car with dark windows pulled up inches from my bike. My heart jumped. My first instinct wasn’t neighbor —it was threat . I found myself bracing, scanning, and wondering if the person inside was angry, armed, or looking for trouble. Then the door opened. A well-dressed young woman stepped out, walked to the trunk, and pulled out a sign that read “Open House.” She turned, smiled brightly, and sa...

The Language of Home: Building a Sanctuary

This episode is  for anyone trying to find their footing in a new place—whether it’s a new city, a new job, or a new country. The light in Florence, Italy, has a way of making everything feel like a Renaissance painting—the golden hue on the stone, the steady rhythm of the Arno River, and the feeling that you are walking through a history much larger than yourself. I was there to give a presentation to a class of Gemology students. I was prepared to discuss color grading and refractive indices, but not to be outed as a language tutor . Feeling very much like a guest in a storied land, a hand shot up enthusiastically. "You’re the guy on the podcasts," the young woman said, her eyes bright with recognition. "You’re the one teaching us English." I laughed nervously. If you know my flat Midwestern accent, you know the irony here. I am hardly an Oxford professor. But later, as I wandered the cobblestone streets beneath the shadow of the Duomo, the humor faded into a powe...

Practiced Hands: The 50-Year Warranty

What Doc Burch Taught Me About Staying Active. We talk a lot about "life hacks" these days, but most of them don’t have a very long shelf life. Usually, they’re forgotten by the next app update. But back in 1972, I received a piece of advice that came with a 50-year warranty. It’s the reason I’m still on my bike today, still chasing a golf ball around Carlsbad, and still—mostly—in one piece. The Kick That Changed Everything It started with a literal kick in the pants. A kid at school in Cuba, Illinois, was joking around and caught me just right. By the next morning, my lower back was screaming. My mom didn’t reach for the Tylenol; she reached for her car keys. "Let’s go see Doc Burch," she said. "He’ll fix you right up." Harry E. Burch, D.C., was a fixture in Lewistown. He’d graduated from Palmer College in ’59 and had been our family’s go-to for years. He was a man of practiced hands and steady eyes. After a quick exam and an X-ray, the mood in the room s...

On the Fly–Taking Flight

In this special 500th episode,  On the Fly  is moving to a new home. Here’s why—and what’s staying the same. For a very long time (since April 2012),  On the Fly  has lived on  Blogger . Blogger has been a reliable host—dependable, quiet, and never complaining when I arrived late with another half-baked idea, a guitar riff, or a story that needed a little air. It faithfully archived my thoughts, my music, and more than a decade of curiosity. But the internet has changed. It’s louder now. Flashier. More insistent. Every thought is nudged to perform. Every sentence wants to be optimized, monetized, or interrupted by something that really wants your attention right this second. I’ve been craving the opposite. So today, On the Fly is moving to Substack . If you’ve been with me for a while, you know my quiet obsession: the A rt of Seeing . I’m interested in the moments we rush past—the Aversion Trap, the discipline hidden inside a guitarist’s daily practice, t...