Ray Bradbury, prophet
Ray Bradbury's 1957 book Dandelion Wine is a tale of small town Midwestern America through the eyes of a 12-year old boy. I picked it up after re-reading the more well-known Something Wicked This Way Comes, which comes after Dandelion Wine in the trilogy.
Yesterday, I read through the chapter on the 'Happiness Machine' that Leo Auffmann sets out to make. The idea hits him like a bolt of lightning, and he becomes obsessed on creating a machine that will bring people happiness. Interestingly, his wife (and others) don't see the need for such a device. After a frightening encounter with one of their children and the machine, Leo's wife Lena wants to try it out. Leo and the children hear her crying from outside the machine. Puzzled by the experience, here is Leo and Lena's conversation when she comes out:
“Oh, it's the saddest thing in the world!” she wailed. “I feel awful, terrible.” She climbed out through the door “First, there was Paris...” “What's wrong with Paris?” “I never even thought of being in Paris in my life. But now you got me thinking: Paris! So suddenly I want to be in Paris and I know I'm not!” “It's almost as good, this machine.” “No. Sitting in there, I knew. I thought, it's not real!” “Stop crying, Mama.” She looked at him with great dark wet eyes. “You had me dancing. We haven't danced in twenty years.” “I'll take you dancing tomorrow night!” “No, no! It's not important, it shouldn't be important. But your machine says it's important! So I believe! It'll be all right, Leo, after I cry some more.” “What else?” “What else? The machine says,'You're young.' I'm not. It lies, that Sadness Machine!” “Sad in what way?” His wife was quieter now. “Leo, the mistake you made is you forgot some hour, some day, we all got to climb out of that thing and go back to dirty dishes and the beds not made. While you're in that thing, sure, a sunset lasts forever almost, the air smells good, the temperature is fine. All the things you want to last, last. But outside, the children wait on lunch, the clothes need buttons. And then let's be frank, Leo, how long can you look at a sunset? Who wants a sunset to last? Who wants perfect temperature? Who wants air smelling good always? So after awhile, who would notice? Better, for a minute or two, a sunset. After that, let's have something else. People are like that, Leo. How could you forget?” “Did I?” “Sunsets we always liked because they only happen once and go away.” “But Lena, that's sad.” “No, if the sunset stayed and we got bored, that would be a real sadness. So two things you did you should never have. You made quick things go slow and stay around. You brought things faraway to our backyard where they don't belong, where they just tell you, 'No, you'll never travel, Lena Auffmann, Paris you'll never see! Rome you'll never visit.' But I always knew that, so why tell me?”
While reading this, I couldn't help but think, 'Bradbury prophesied smart phones and social media perfectly!' Lena's experience is the same as legions of others who report dissatisfaction and sadness with their own lives after being drawn in to the fake world of social media. The most poignant observation is, “It's not important, it shouldn't be important. But your machine says it's important! So I believe!”
Online (we don't see the term 'virtual reality' used often any longer) the relationships there aren't real. The experiences aren't real. The only thing seemingly real is the disappointment people face when they look at the reality of their lives against the false creations of Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and the like. While not as dystopian as Fahrenheit 451, Bradbury saw the bleak future that awaited humanity as we traded the real for the imaginary. He was a genius.
In the remainder of the chapter, the Happiness Machine bursts into flame, destroying itself and the Auffmann's garage. In the aftermath, Leo sits on his front porch looking in to his family going out their ordinary, day-to-day lives and has the epiphany, “There it is...the Happiness Machine.”
Brilliant. Thank you, Mr. Bradbury.