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Wired for War

When American forces marched into Iraq, they were little different from generations of warriors before them. They may have had global-positioning systems and highly advanced weaponry, but they were still just human beings.

Now, that’s all changed; our troops are no longer alone on the battlefield. Since 2003, the number of American robots in combat has gone from 0 to 12,000, and the unmanned ranks continue to grow.

War in 2009 is a place where science fiction has become military reality.

P.W. Singer’s new book — Wired for War: The Robotics Revolution and Conflict in the 21st Century — explores the both immediate ramifications of this strange fact and the questions it poses for the
future.

The military first deployed robots in missions that were too dull or dangerous for human soldiers to complete. A Predator drone can spend 24 hours in flight without rest, while the PackBot — built by the same people who make the Roomba — can be tossed through the window of a hostile building to transmit live video of insurgents inside.

But even as the scientists and engineers who design these machines dream of a world where their creations eliminate the need for human causalities, they are hard at work devising ways that robots could be used to kill enemy combatants.

If that leaves you thinking about Skynet, you’re not alone.

Writers and thinkers have been haunted by visions of a future with machines in rebellion for nearly 100 years. The experts with whom Singer speaks all understand the potential for apocalypse and many believe that strong artificial intelligence — which exceeds human intelligence — is less than a generation away. Singer takes comfort in the fact that our fears are leading many to begin grappling with the ethical questions long before we’re in danger of being assaulted by our toasters.

In the meantime, the paradigm for the present is clear. In the past six months, American drones have launched nearly 40 strikes against militants on the border of Afghanistan and Pakistan, killing hundreds.

That fact alone makes Wired for War essential reading for the immediate future.

The device I’m thinking of would be small (the size of a book); it would be portable (battery life needs to last at least couple novels); and it would need the right kind of software (the ability to search for any word on any piece of text, the ability to add marginalia, and the ability to link between works — and that’s just for starters).

And the price points would have to be right. Folks will make a substantial investment in the gadget in exchange for cheap digital books. But if you’re going to charge people a lot up front and then stick them again for content, this whole thing falls through.

If someone out there would make and market a device with the right user interface that sells for less than $200 and pair it with a cheap online bookstore, I’d buy it within weeks of it coming out.

Just about a month ago, I started using an Amazon Kindle, and I’m pleased to report that it meets just about every part of that description. The price point is a little higher than what I imagined (and that’s what kept me from buying this thing for nearly a year), but otherwise the Kindle is almost exactly the device I dreamed up.

The result is pretty incredible.

In the time that I’ve owned my Kindle, I’ve read six books on the device (well over 1,000 pages), and purchased six more (for a total of 12) with prices ranging from $.25 to $15. I’ve read it at my desk, on the couch, in the car, and in a deck chair outside.

I can tell you the exact moment that this device made a believer out of me.

When Amazon began marketing this device, Jeff Bezos repeatedly told interviewers that the Kindle had been designed so that readers would get lost in the words. He said it was specifically engineered so that users would forget that they were holding an expensive piece of electronics.

I didn’t believe him.

But about 10 days into ownership, I was reading the Kindle late one night while brushing my teeth. And just like he said, I got wrapped up in the world created by the book on the screen. Without thinking, I sat my toothbrush on the counter and tried to turn a physical page, just as I had done with books my entire life. I only paused for second before I hit the next page button, but that was enough — I was hooked.

Like many people, I had a day or two of trouble with the next page buttons that run long either side of the device. But now that I’m used to the layout of the hardware, it’s been weeks since I’ve inadvertently turned a page.

I originally had trouble with keeping the Kindle in its case, but after I learned how it fits, I’ve had no problems at all. Using the case also helps with the page button problem.

I was initially annoyed that there was no screen lock button (like you’d find on an iPod). But it turns out that the same buttons that turn off the screen-saver also turn it back on. Learning this trick has helped me from losing my page considerably.

What works for the Kindle?

The screen is close to perfect. The Kindle uses e-ink technology, and for the most part, this means that the display renders almost exactly like newsprint. It doesn’t need a backlight so your eyes don’t get tired from reading it. The screen is non-reflective, meaning you can read the Kindle outside in full sunlight.

The added beauty of e-ink is what it does for the battery. Using this technology, you only need power to refresh the screen (i.e. navigating to another page), and that in turn lets the Kindle go for days without needing a charge. I’ve never turned my Kindle off, but I only charge the device about once a week.

Part of the reason I get that kind of battery life is because I don’t spend much time on the Whispernet — Amazon wireless network (leased from Sprint) — which really does use a lot of power. But I do love the time that I spend online with the Kindle. This thing comes with its own web browser, which for the most part, does a great job of rendering major web pages (NYTimes.com, ESPN.com, etc.). And of course the Amazon Store has been incredibly well designed, and navigating it is a pleasure.

I love the Amazon Store for the Kindle, in fact. The selection is pretty solid, and continues to grow every day. I’d love to see more backlist stuff, but given that Amazon makes this thing, I’m fully confident that the selection will continue to expand. Every book I’ve purchased comes cheaper than it’s physical counterpart (in some cases dramatically — I bought my copy of The Old Man and the Sea for $.25), which makes the girl happy.

Out of the box, the Kindle will hold at least 200 books, and with an SD memory card, I can bump capacity up to 2,000. For me, that’s a revelation. The whole thing is searchable, and I love the ability to highlight, bookmark, and make notes.

What would I change?

I’d add two features.

I love that there isn’t a permanent backlight, but a small, built-in reading light would be big improvement of my user experience.

The Kindle is a device that screams for a touchscreen. You could replace both the keyboard and page buttons, and it would be almost perfect.

If the pictures of the Kindle 2.0 that are floating around on the Internet are true, this next version includes neither improvement. That doesn’t mean that this new device won’t be worth a purchase, but it does mean that I’ll be happy with my Gen1 model for awhile.

Scientists at IBM say they have developed a new type of digital storage which would enable a device such as an MP3 player to store about half a million songs – or 3,500 films – and cost far less to produce.

Here’s my question — what is the value of a single song when you have a device that is capable of holding damn near every album on iTunes?

The announcement getting the most attention was the price cut for the iPhone. Just two months after the device went on sale, its cost was reduced by $200 completely without warning from the company. The early adapters were pissed, media coverage was sympathetic to their plight, and the next day, Steve Jobs announced all those who paid the original price would be getting a $100 Apple Store credit.

The iPod Touch is also newsworthy. The new interface is the iPhone without the phone — complete with wireless Internet access, the Safari browser, and a miniature version of OSX. You can check email, browse YouTube, and of course, listen to music and watch movies. Jobs also introduced a wireless iTunes store, which will allow owners of the Touch and the iPhone to buy music on the go without ever connecting to a computer.

The final announcement at the event was for another new feature on the Touch and the iPhone — the Starbucks button. While Apple owners are waiting in line to buy their lattes, they can use their devices to get the name of the song the baristas are playing, see the coffee shop’s recent playlist, and of course, buy anything from that list. Compared to the price-cut drama or the new product excitement, it has received very little attention on the press. But long term, this might be as big a deal as the iPhone itself.

As a feature, the Starbucks button is admittedly kind of lame. But that’s not the right way to think about this — it’s not about technology or music. It’s about advertising — specifically, the rise of location-specific advertisement — and that is both fascinating and a little bit frightening.

Right now, real location-based advertising is straight out of science fiction. In Steven Spielberg’s Minority Report, the Tom Cruise character walks into a Gap, the store recognizes him, and a virtual sales associate asks him how his last purchase worked out — that’s a vision of what’s to come.

But this thing with Starbucks and Apple isn’t too many evolutionary steps away. You, proud owner of an Apple device, walk into a Starbucks, the store recognizes you and a new button appears on your iPhone. Like most advertising, you can always ignore it, but you can’t make it go away. Every time you go to buy coffee, you’ll be prompted to buy music, too. How long before the Starbucks button starts flashing notices of the hot new drink? Is it a stretch to think of Disney offering a similar deal with Apple, where you walk into a Disney Store, and a new button appears allowing you to download the new Pixar movie? How about Barnes & Noble — a new button pops up and you’re downloading audio books from their bestseller list?

There are companies working to tie advertising to the GPS-system in your car — you drive by a McDonalds and you hear a Big Mac jingle. Google is developing a service which to put the same technology in your cell phone — walk by the Gap and you get a text message with a coupon. Supposedly, Google will introduce a gPhone sometime before the year is out, and I can’t help but wonder if this is the company’s secret weapon — a slick, feature-packed, ultra-cheap phone in exchange for permission to deliver the advertisements.

On some level, this is a better way for customer to receive advertisements. Like the best of Google AdWords, they can be unobtrusive, relevant, and occasionally exactly what you’re looking for.

But again, this can be scary too. What happens when the advertisers always know where you are, always know what you’re buying, and never stops pushing the ads at you? At what point then, does your privacy completely evaporate?

The last third of the piece — where the writers talk about what the Internet is doing to reference books right now — is where things get really interesting. Essentially, they sound the death knell for the physical encyclopedia, the phone book, and the dictionary. As I read that paragraph, I suddenly realized that I hadn’t used any of those things in years. Why? Because all of them are just a Google search away. And cookbooks and text books are probably next.

But we aren’t there yet, and it’s because of two things — interface and cost.

A computer monitor is fine for when you’re trying to define “sesquipedalian” or when you want to look up the dates for the battle of Trafalgar. But who wants to read Great Expectations on a laptop?

The device I’m thinking of would be small (the size of a book); it would be portable (battery life needs to last at least couple novels); and it would need the right kind of software (the ability to search for any word on any piece of text, the ability to add marginalia, and the ability to link between works — and that’s just for starters).

And the price points would have to be right. Folks will make a substantial investment in the gadget in exchange for cheap digital books. But if you’re going to charge people a lot up front and then stick them again for content, this whole thing falls through.

If someone out there would make and market a device with the right user interface that sells for less than $200 and pair it with a cheap online bookstore, I’d buy it within weeks of it coming out. What would that mean for me as a bookaholic?

I’d drastically reduce the number of physical books I buy. Basically, it’d dwindle down to stuff I’d want to keep as collector’s items — books that I’d read, then store proudly on the shelf, saving them for my kids. New and exciting fiction, works by my favorite authors, rare first editions. Everything else (think about all the backlist stuff!) I’d buy for my eReader. And because I don’t have to worry about storage and my costs would be lower, that would mean that I would buy and collect much, much more than I do right now.

I cannot tell you how much I would enjoy the ability to be able to access huge chunks of my library anytime, any place. And I suspect the value of that would far outweigh the loss of physical books to hold and to keep. As it is, living in a small urban apartment, I have little enough room for new books anyway. I’m constantly rethinking how I’ve got books placed on shelves, where to place new stacks. I will miss a lot about having new books — the weight of them on my lap, the smell of the paper and the glue and the ink — but it just means I’ll value the paper books I do buy more.

What would that mean for books in general?

First, it means that the power of the Long Tail will hit the world of publishing like a storm surge. Sure, there are books published every day about every subject imaginable. But think about the world before blogs and then compare that to the state of physical publishing after everyone (including me) could become a journalist or commentator. According to the last poll that I’ve seen, 81 percent of Americans think they have a book in them. In this brave new world, each of them can give it a go. Millions of new writers will suddenly be able find audiences, and because the distribution costs are nothing, many of them are going to get read by someone. As to what that means, who is to say?

The second thing it means is this: copyrights are going to have to change.

Again, I’ll point you to the world of music first. Think about the way that Kanye West takes samples from classic soul songs, mixes them together and adds his own drums, then uses them to form the beats for every single one of his song. Think about the way that DJ Danger Mouse mixed the Beatles’ White Album and Jay-Z’s Black Album (critics called it the album of the year, when it came out). Now, I’ll point you to the bloggers who scour newspapers for stories, take clips from pieces that draw their interest, add their own commentary, and publish it for a living. The marginalia, the linking between works — all that’s going to get published too. Think about the fan fiction that gets published on the internet already — all the stories about Dumbledore, Hermione, and Ron that are published on Harry Potter fan sites. Think about Wikipedia. It’s happening already.

The current model just ain’t going to work anymore. Fans are going to demand the right to rewrite, reproduce, rethink and reimagine everything. There are already some very smart writers who realize that.

I believe all of this. But I’m also positive that the move from here to there is going to be slow and messy.