One of the most intriguing of the, well, less than fully intriguing United States of America @250 ceremonies involves the time capsule planted for the future in Philadelphia.
Time capsules are so weird, so optimistic, so Tomorrowland, so inevitably disappointing when they are opened up.
What were they thinking, those Olds? You gave us some postage stamps and the morning newspaper? Why not send us some fresh air and temperate weather?
I was once asked to write a letter to the future that was placed in a time capsule — I believe it was in 2000, to be opened in 2100 — and I did. But I wrote in my column that week that I had instead placed a carne asada taco with red sauce from King Taco inside the capsule for the future to discover. There were several readers who believed me.
Anyway, each one of the 50 states got to contribute to the time capsule of the moment, the one that, if all goes well for Philadelphia and the planet Earth, will be opened by the good burghers of Futurama Philly in 2276, a date so unimaginably distant, so unreal, that it calls to mind Donald Fagen’s all-purpose lyric about the future in his song “I.G.Y.,” written from the perspective of the International Geophysical year of 1957-58: “Here at home we’ll play in the city / Powered by the sun / Perfect weather for a streamlined world / There’ll be spandex jackets, one for everyone.”
So I was reading Holly Ramer’s Associated Press story that mentioned the Golden State contribution to the time capsule, and it really was intriguing: “California looked to the future, including the answer it got when it asked an AI ChatBot, ‘Write me a prediction of what California will be like 250 years from July 4, 2026.’ Highways will be gone, grizzly bears will be back, and the entire state will secede and join Oregon, Washington and British Columbia to form the ‘Pacific Federation.’”
Yeah, isn’t that the dream. I don’t mean not being able to find the onramp to the 5 when you’re just trying to get to San Onofre on a Sunday, or having to fight off vicious giant ursines every time you mow the lawn. I mean that old pipe dream of ditching the fusty other Mainland states and Canadian provinces and forming a nation of our own way out West. The north woods hippies used to call it Cascadia. I’m all in, except that I think we should bring along Baja, for the food and the surf.
For some reason, the full prediction of what California will be like in 2276 has not been made public by either the robot that concocted it nor by its human handlers. Just go ask AI where it is: “The specific, full text of the AI’s 250-year prediction for California remains sealed within the official America250 time capsule, with only a summary of its three-point prediction made public. The AI predicted a futuristic, rewilded Pacific Federation, including the return of grizzly bears and a merger with northern neighbors.”
And then you go ask AI to critique the skeleton version of what AI predicted, and it gets so logical, so party-pooping: “Constitutional Barriers: The U.S. Constitution provides no legal mechanism for unilateral state secession.” It continues: “Geopolitical Realities: Merging with British Columbia requires Canada to peacefully surrender territory or collapse entirely. It also assumes Oregon and Washington share identical, radical political alignments with California over a two-century span.”
Radical? Are you all wigged out over Portland again, robots?
Then the AI in its critique of its fellow AI gets persnickety over the science: “The California grizzly (Ursus arctos californicus) went extinct in 1924. Bringing it back requires advanced de-extinction technology.”
The future is overrated. It has nothing to do with you and me. Still, it’d be nice of us to leave a glorious California for it. Go Bears!
Larry Wilson is on the Southern California News Group editorial board. lwilson@scng.com.