By now, it should be obvious to anyone who grew up between 1940 and 1970
that we were badly misled about the future, and what it would look like.
A multitude of exciting predictions turned out to be wishful thinking.
There are no flying cars, rocket belts, or plastic-enclosed cities on the
ocean floor. These disappointments have been well publicized during the
past few years and provide grist for stand-up comics and talk show hosts.
But when I think back on my own perceptions of how the world and its
inhabitants would change in decades yet to come, one non-development rises
high above all others: We aren't getting giant heads. Not now, not ever.
The idea had a logical basis. As society progressed, humans would be
confronted with increasing amounts of knowledge to learn and retain, and the
effect of all that additional brain stimulation would be the gradual
evolution of ever-expanding cranial capacity. And this principle wasn¹t
exclusive to Earth. It also applied to many other quadrants of the
universe.
From years of reading Superman Comics I learned that whenever the Man of
Steel found himself on a mysterious planet, the appearance of a
macrocephalic stranger was a helpful clue. It meant he was either A) on a
world with an advanced civilization or B) on Earth in a century far ahead
of his own.
This theme was steadily reinforced by movies and TV shows. Actor
Richard Kiel portrayed the big-headed ambassador of an extra-terrestrial
race called the Kanamit in a 1962 Twilight Zone episode entitled "To Serve
Man." The Kanamit were so advanced they viewed humanity as a dietary
supplement.
In 1963 David McCallum experienced three stages of head expansion during
an Outer Limits episode entitled "The Sixth Finger." Having volunteered to
test a machine that speeds up evolutionary changes, his character becomes
increasingly dismissive and hostile toward the un-advanced humans who
brought him into the project. He does not, however, attempt to eat them.
A trio of jumbo-domed aliens in the Talos system created a lot of
problems for various Enterprise crew members on the original Star Trek
series. Filmed as the show's pilot episode entitled "The Cage," it was
later re-edited into a two-part version called "The Menagerie."
For some reason, characters with giant heads were often shown clad in
garments that resembled robes or togas, usually white. Scientists and
doctors wear white lab coats, so I have to believe that TV and movie
producers considered white as a subliminal symbol of advanced intelligence.
Also, it makes sense that really smart people with big heads wouldn't want
to waste one extra second sorting dirty laundry by color.
In addition to boosting the collective mental prowess of society, a race
of big-headed citizens would have generated enormous economic activity.
Think of the boom in home remodeling as millions of Americans modified their
living spaces by raising the height of doorways and ceiling fans.
Beds would have to be made longer and pillows larger. Audience seating
would need to be reconfigured in theaters and sports venues. A whole new
range of sizes would be required for hats and motorcycle helmets.
Goodbye to all that. Or rather, forget about saying hello. Whatever
problems the future may hold, we'll have to solve them without the benefit
of additional brain matter. It's probably for the best. After all, having
a giant head would add a big complication to simple activities like jogging
or taking a shower. And wearing white all the time would get really, really
boring.