I've struggled with writing about the Maker Faire for about a month (I'm press- not a journalist). It's easy to gush about the wonders of tech's open pastures, or tougher to diametrically write existentially about future doomsday scenarios, which I admit is much easier for me.
Buyers can take their merchandise once they identify themselves via some unique codes (numeric, eye or finger print), and buyers can press a button to send the drones back to their point of origin. Think of this as an electronic version of Harry Potter's owl, Hedwig.
Scourge of cereal, corrupter of coffee, cause of more spit takes than a Donald Trump press conference: rotten milk has ruined many mornings. And yet our only defense against the potentially stomach-souring effect is the simple, unreliable sniff test.
Last year, a 26-year-old fashion designer stunned the fashion world with a collection of dresses that incorporate computer-assisted designs, executed by 3-D printers, that would be extremely time-consuming, if not impossible, for a human sewer.
I've seen the future. It looks like a microwave oven, but inside, a small robot arm is zipping away, making things. As I watched this working three-D printer on display at the main in BHV department store in Paris, I remembered seeing my first fax machine in the 1980s.
Why read nonfiction? The utilitarian reasons are the ones cited most. We read to understand the fine print of contracts, how to operate the new-fangled gadget we just overpaid for, to make sure we don't get the side effects of a new medication.
Design is now more akin to flowing water than a series of steps carved in stone. And again, that conforms to the nascent "culture of sharing." The same impulses that drove open source software are now driving the design of objects.
We are at the cusp of a renaissance in healthcare. Technology--including the Internet of Everything (IoE), robotics, 3-D printing, wearable technology, cloud, mobility, and many others--promises to usher in this new era in healthcare.