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

Resurrecting the '90s Graphite

Let’s face it, there’s a certain danger in reading John Gierach's Trout Bum . His wit, self-deprecation, and sharp, effortless satire are entirely infectious. If you aren't careful, his words will inspire you to drop everything, wade into a freezing river, and try to outsmart a creature with a brain the size of a lentil. In my case, re-reading Gierach recently didn't send me straight to the river. It sent me digging through the dusty, spider-guarded corners of my garage. In the early 1990s, seeking a natural escape from Manhattan's concrete canyons, I decided to learn to cast a fly rod. I bought an Orvis Rocky Mountain —eight-and-a-half feet, three ounces, built for a five-weight line—and had absolutely no idea how to use it. To avoid aimlessly whipping the water like scrambling eggs, I took fly-fishing lessons from Al Cucci, co-author of Hatches , on the Delaware River. With his guidance, I fished renowned waters: the AuSable in New York and Michigan, and New Jersey...

From Mailbox to Microphone

In this episode, catching up with Sierra . What happens when you combine a little imagination, modern digital tools, and the willingness to make a glorious, muddy mess? You get our guest’s latest project. I’m Patrick Ball. Welcome back to On the Fly . Today, we are diving into the world of native plants and guerrilla gardening with twelve-year-old creator Sierra. After watching her impressive, self-produced tutorial on how to make ‘Seed Balls,’ I had to know how she did it. It’s incredibly inspiring to watch Sierra evolve from a young artist wielding crayons and stationery into a savvy digital creator. She’s writing scripts, mastering voiceovers, and editing—all to make a positive, green impact on her local community. “She shoots, she scores, and she’s here to tell us all about it.” Please welcome Sierra to On the Fly ! Let’s get into it. Audio interview . . . For more blog posts showcasing Sierra’s talents, see: The Mailbox Surprise . . . and The Summer Surprise I’m Patrick Ball. Sta...

The AI Debate Was Settled in 1954

In this episode, what a 70-year-old sci-fi mystery teaches us. Welcome back to On the Fly. I’ve been looking for a clear way to explain how we should be handling Artificial Intelligence today. I finally found the answer hidden in a book I just finished. The twist? It was written more than seventy years ago. Isaac Asimov's The Caves of Steel was published in 1954, when a computer filled an entire room, consumed enough electricity to dim the neighborhood, and had roughly the computing power of today's microwave. Yet Asimov set his story nearly 3,000 years in the future—a world where humanity lives in sprawling enclosed cities (New York) and depends on advanced technology for nearly every aspect of daily life. The remarkable part isn't how much of the technology he imagined. It's how accurately he predicted us. In Asimov's future, society struggles with the introduction of highly sophisticated humanoid robots powered by "positronic brains." Naturally, a lou...

The Birth of a Cubs Legend

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...