Foreseeing the future and living in it are two different things.

I dreamed about a lot of stuff as a kid. Back in the early ‘80s, when I sold my beloved BMX bike to buy my first computer, I dreamed of a day when everyone would have such devices in their homes. I dreamed of random people actually getting my X-Men references, and of girls who wouldn’t walk away if you said you loved video games. And I dreamed of modem networks that would let people all over the world communicate asynchronously about anything that interested them, including the X-Men, girls, and video games.

Through unrelenting, geeky advocacy and hard work, those dreams all came true; the 21st century is basically a bespoke era, designed by me and my ilk to suit our priorities. We won. I got everything I wanted and more.

Ah, that sticky, messy, unfortunate “more”.

Everyone has a computer in their pocket, but Google and Facebook are actively trying to convince them that algorithmic search results and the half-baked opinions of someone’s belligerent uncle or freshman niece are useful substitutes for knowledge. Half the TV shows and movies made today begin with a MARVEL title card –turning the 35 cent passion of my childhood into mainstream fare– but the underlying comic books are reduced to glossy, deeply cynical cash-grabs that prey on the obsessive-compulsive inclinations of middle-aged malcontents. We finally figured out how to make games interesting enough to catch a woman’s attention, but then immediately started looking for ways to keep those bitches from getting any of their touchy-feely girl-goo all over our fantasy fiefdoms. And the networked, nerdy Algonquin round tables I sought? Well, Donald Trump joined Twitter.

Be careful when you dream, children. The universe is often listening, and has ideas of its own.