The year is 2079. All church bells have been replaced with loudspeakers playing the Nokia ringtone. Forty per cent of all human interaction is carried out through shimmering holographic mirror-type things. Mascots at football games are now completely automated. #MeToo is still trending: it turns out perverts exist in the future too. The Queen, despite controversy, still insists on being aboard the first manned mission to Venus – she’ll be launched into the cosmos just as soon as scientists can invent a space suit big enough to accommodate her tiara.
Even today, nostalgia is a big part of popular culture: how else do you explain my generation’s fascination with bow ties and vinyls? Everyone loves thinking about the good old days, even if the days in question were a) long gone before we were even born and b) actually not that good. (I’m all for a nineties’ revival, as long as we limit it to fashion and not, say, presidential perjury and whatever the deal with OJ Simpson was. (Sorry, guys, I was born in ’96. The nineties are pretty much outside of my cultural consciousness.)) With that in mind, just imagine how much more nostalgic our great great great great great grandniblings will be. After all, they’ll have, like, sixty one extra years to look back on.
However, just as I reject my parents’ style of reminiscing (looking through the eight billion pics on the family PC), so too will our descendents dismiss our beloved custom of Throwback Thursday.
Instead, the youth of tomorrow will rely on microchips to store their most treasured memories. These chips will be swapped round a parties, and the memories stored on them will be delivered in such an immersive way that no one will be completely sure whether they’re remembering something they’ve really experienced, or just something their mate has uploaded.
For this reason, the concept of privacy, already thrown into doubt by eg Zuckerberg and the NSA, will be obsolete.