Generations

The Shaw’s always seemed to be on the cusp of technological breakthroughs and advances…

Fall of 1903

Mrs. Shaw rang the dinner bell to summon her family from their work around the farm. Harry, Ruthie, and Samuel emerged from various points, with their father on their heels. She reminded them to wash up and kissed her husband at the door before giving the lot another lookover.

“Has anyone seen Charles recently?” She asked her children as they gathered at the table. They shook their heads. Mr. and Mrs. Shaw exchanged knowing looks, having a strong hunch on where he’d be. 

Nine-year old Charles Shaw stood with other village children, gawking at a spectacle on the outskirts of the village. Two brothers and friends from Ohio made camp there three years ago where they had been building and flying strange contraptions. Their biggest one yet was currently underway. 

“Charles Elias Shaw!” His mother’s voice snapped through the peanut gallery. “You are late for dinner! And the rest of you better be getting on yourselves!”

The other children dispersed and Mrs. Shaw dragged her son home by the arm. 

“I hope you didn’t neglect your chores for this spectacle,”

“There weren’t a lot of eggs to collect or messes to clean. And it’s gonna happen soon, Mother! Mr. Wright said their custom engine is almost complete!”

“I’ll eat my hat if they manage to fly,” His mother snided, her son still in tow. “God would’ve given us wings already if we were meant to be in the air!” 

The Wright Brothers would manage their first successful flight on December 17th, 1903. In 1907, an Air Force precursor--the Aviation Section, Signal Corps--was founded. By World War II, Charles was of age to join the Army Air Corps--the Signal Corps’ immediate successor. He settled down and started a family after his service. 

Spring of 1958

Charles didn’t understand all the fuss over the Sputnik crisis. If we were meant to be on the moon, he thought, God would’ve put us there. Yet, all the hoopla sure captured the imagination of his eight-year-old son, Roger. Anything of this robotic, flying saucer, outer space nature made him happy, so he surprised him with a new ray gun toy he picked up on the way home from work. 

“Thanks, Dad!” Roger joyously received it. “Will you play with me?” 

“Maybe after a while, son. I’m tired.” Charles patted Roger’s shoulders before moving to his armchair and turning on the radio. 

“Sputniks and mutniks flying through the air...sputniks and mutniks flying everywhere...” Ray Anderson and the Homefolks crooned while Roger frolicked around the room, continuing his imagined game with his new ray gun and a rocket in hand. He started singing along. 

“Our scientists have admittеd that we're five yеars behind; and if that's true I'm telling you, this hiding place is mine...” the song continued. 

“Hey, Dad!” Roger stopped right after that line, “I want to be a space scientist when I grow up!” 

“If you become a space scientist, son.” Charles affectionately responded. “I’ll eat my hat!” Such a thing didn’t exist, right? Roger giggled, too innocent to pick up his father’s hint of sarcasm.

U.S. Congress created NASA on June 29th, 1958 and began operations on October 1st. The Apollo 11 program went to the moon in 1969. Roger became a computer technician for NASA during that time. After contributing to the Space Transportation System project, he settled down, started a family, and became a computer hobbyist. 

Spring of 2006

Where Roger embraced the dawn of computers, his son, Gene, embraced the dawn of Internet culture. The amount of time Gene could spend on the web growing up concerned him and frequently started arguments. Yet Roger reluctantly joined the bandwagon as e-mail and Internet chatrooms were Gene’s preferred methods of “writing home” while he was at college. 

“The Facebook just expanded to all the Ivy League schools!” Gene enthused in a communique. “There’s talk that Zuckerberg might even expand to full public access. You could get one too!” 

“That sounds interesting,” Roger replied. “Whatever would I use The Facebook account for, though?”

“You could use it to connect with family, maybe old friends or make new ones.” 

“What’s wrong with a phone call or even an e-mail?” 

“Online communication and presence is the future, Dad. The point of social media is to be social. I can compare notes with somebody from MIT or Yale that I find through The Facebook. More still, video-chatting is a thing now with the Skype app--even better than an e-mail! And major companies now have websites and retailers have online shopping options.” 

The ideas waried Roger. He loved computers but he feared the once-scientific instrument was becoming ingrained into everyday life. The machines that once sent man to the moon are now digital parties. Was it even safe and healthy?

“Tell you what, son,” He messaged Gene. “I’ll eat my hat when I can get an account for The Facebook thing!” 

On September 26th, 2006, Facebook became available to anyone over thirteen years of age. Roger never set up a Facebook account but came around to appreciating some of the internet’s other conveniences as his health started to turn. 

2023

Roger spent his later golden years laying in bed, his health faltering more and his mind baffled by the things computers could do these days: artificial intelligence, storage clouds, touchscreens, 3-D printing, voice command that could control a whole house, and so much social media. The technology seems to be getting smaller all the time too since the Apple II he owned after settling down from NASA. 

Even now, his son Gene, a holder of degrees in computer and bioengineering, enthused over the latest potential developments with which he was involved: nanorobotics.

“They’re tiny biological computers, Dad,” Gene enthused over the latest potential development: nanorobotics. “They can identify and destroy cancer cells, rewrite DNA, and improve vaccine effectiveness...we could achieve perfect health in a few more generations!”

“Son,” Roger rasped, “I’ve had plenty years of good health already. I’d eat my hat if a nanobot gave me any more. God would’ve made us robots if we were to have computers in us.” 

Roger passed away a few years later, while Gene pursued further development in nanorobotics.