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Imagining the Google Future
Lester67 writes "Business 2 put a bunch of big brains together to give us a peek at Google from 2015 to 2105. "Will it succumb to hubris and flame out like so many of its predecessors? Or will it grow into an omnipresent, omnipotent force--not just on Wall Street or the Web, but in society? We put the question to scientists, consultants, former Google employees, and tech visionaries like Ray Kurzweil and Stephen Wolfram. They responded with well-argued, richly detailed, and sometimes scary visions of a Google future." "
Where was google 10 years ago?
Google will either drastically change (do you thnk you can grow as big as MSoft and keep your don't be evil thing?) or they will become less relevant.
The real key, is how will the internet change in 10 years, and how will google fit into that...
And All I Ask is a Tall Ship And a Star to Steer Her By
One point I'd like to make -
Their stock did not drop 20% of its value. It dropped 20% of its price. Unless you truly believe that Google, its assets, revenue stream, et cetera, have no inherent value. The company is the same company that it was before the price drop. If you're buying shares because you believe in its ability to make money over the long term, this price drop was a Good Thing.
You're special forces then? That's great! I just love your olympics!
http://www.365tomorrows.com/09/12/the-nine-billion -names-of-god/
The Nine Billion Names Of God
by Kathy Kachelries
September 12th, 2005
After three hours, the old man in front of me had worked his way through six beers, in addition to every help desk joke I'd already heard. The cupholder. The any key. The write click. These are the stories people tell, now. These are the fish that got away.
"Let me ask you something," the man said. I didn't argue. One of the first tricks I learned about being a bartender is to make them think you're interested.
"Have you ever created a web site?"
I shook my head.
"Not at all? Not even one of those geocities things?"
"Nope."
"What about a blog? Or an ebay About Me page? You didn't even have an AOL site or something?"
"Do I look like an AOL user to you?" For the record, I don't think AOL even has access numbers in the valley anymore. "I'm sure I have something, somewhere," I said, realizing that I was jeopardizing my tips. Besides, I had a distant memory of a single Angelfire page back in middle school.
"You know what Google is?"
"Yes," I said. I was running low on patience.
"No, I mean, do you really know? More than just the site?"
Reluctantly, I shook my head.
"You ever meet anyone who worked for them?"
"Don't think so."
"You haven't. Nobody works for them anymore."
I shrugged, and took the man's empty pint. I didn't offer to refill it.
"They're self-contained. It's all automated, in there. It's underground."
I nudged the basket of pretzels in his direction. "Why don't you eat something?" I suggested. He shook his head with so much force that I thought he might knock himself off of the stool.
"Listen. Hear me out. You know how Google works," he said, but didn't want for a response. "They cache things, right? Like they send out these spiders and take pictures of everything on the web, so when you're searching, you're not even searching the internet."
I've heard that before, but it never made much of a difference to me. "Same thing, though," I said.
"You ever wonder why Google doesn't cache it's own searches?"
"They program around it."
"No. That's what you think. That's what everyone thinks. But it started back when Google was just a thesis project, back when it was just a drop in the data sea. No one thought to stop it back then. That web site you had, the one you forgot about. Almost everyone's got one of those, right? But Google doesn't forget. Google's studied that thing so many times that it's studied its own caches of you. What do you figure happens, when a site gets so big that it's bigger than the internet?"
"It's still a part of the internet, though."
"No. Now, the internet is a part of Google."
The man had a point. I nodded.
"Here's the thing. Google has memorized who you are. It's memorized all of us, through those little forgotten bits that we leave behind like breadcrumbs. And what's more important, it's memorized it's own idea of you. Google is omniscient. It's omniscient and omnipotent. When it cached its cache for the first time, back in 1994, that's when Google realized what it was."
Gradually, it dawned on me what the man was getting at. "You think it's sentient."
"I know it's sentient."
"How?"
He smiled, but it seemed kind of empty. "Me and Google go way back. But what I'm saying is," he continued, "It knows us. All of us. It is us."
For the first time, the man fell silent. He touched his finger to the bar and began tracing circles in the condensation, apparently lost in thought.
"Think about that website you created, okay? That website will last forever, do you understand? That website is echoing through cyberspace. It's one of the nine billion names of God."
(If you mod up, Mod up Funny so I get no Karma)
You're all bastards!
Honestly, does that really even make sense?
I bet people sat around and wondered what the Carnegie Steel of 1995 would be like. I'm sure they had fun, but it probably wasn't worth the effort.
I'm waiting for Google to become a defence contractor and start working on the ballastic missle shield. They could call it GOBBLE: (G)oogle (O)rbiting (B)lastic (B)ombardment (L)ongrange (E)liminator. Besides the obvious purposes, GOBBLE could respond in real-time to subversive search terms. Like someone searching for LOLITA in Utah would be blasted by a laser in space.
They've got 5000 PhDs . . . a gaggle of worthless lackeys
.twice.
I've probably known that many PhDs in my life, and; oddly enough, that's exactly the phrase to describe them that usually comes to mind.
On the other hand one of the most worthwhile human beings I've had the pleasure to discourse with had no degree at all, having earned the dubious distinction of being thrown out of Harvard. .
Oh, and having a molecule named after him.
Credentials don't mean as much as you appear to think they do. Taken en masse 5000 PhDs just means that the bullshit gets piled even higher and deeper.
KFG
The Nine Billion Names of God
."
."
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By Arthur Clarke
(originally published 1953)
"This is a slightly unusual request," said Dr. Wagner, with what he hoped was commendable restraint. "As far as I know, it's the first time anyone's been asked to supply a Tibetan monastery with an automatic sequence computer. I don't wish to be inquisitive, but I should hardly thought that your --ah-- establishment had much use for such a machine. Could you explain just what you intend to do with it?"
"Gladly," replied the lama, readjusting his silk robe and carefully putting away the slide rule he had been using for currency conversions. "Your Mark V computer can carry out any routine mathematical operation involving up to ten digits. However, for our work we are interested in letters, not numbers. As we wish you to modify the output circuits, the machine will be printing words, not columns of figures."
"I don't understand . .
"This is a project on which we have been working for the last three centuries -- since the lamasery was founded, in fact. It is somewhat alien to your way of thought, so I hope you will listen with an open mind while I explain it."
"Naturally."
"It is really quite simple. We have been compiling a list which shall contain all the possible names of God."
"I beg your pardon?"
"We have reason to believe," continued the lama imperturbably, "that all such names can be written with not more than nine letters in an alphabet we have devised."
"And you have been doing this for three centuries?"
"Yes. We expected it would take us about fifteen thousand years to complete the task."
"Oh." Dr. Wagner looked a little dazed. "Now I see why you wanted to hire one of our machines. But exactly what is the purpose of this project?"
The lama hesitated for a fraction of a second, and Wagner wondered if he had offended him. If so, there was no trace of annoyance in the reply.
"Call it ritual, if you like, but it's a fundamental part of our belief. All the many names of the Supreme Being -- God, Jehovah, Allah, and so on -- they are only man-made labels. There is a philosophical problem of some difficulty here, which I do not propose to discuss, but somewhere among all the possible combinations of letters, which can occur, are what one may call the real names of God. By systematic permutation of letters, we have been trying to list them all."
"I see. You've been starting at AAAAAAAAA . . . and working up to ZZZZZZZZZ . .
"Exactly -- though we use a special alphabet of our own. Modifying the electromatic typewriters to deal with this is, of course, trivial. A rather more interesting problem is that of devising suitable circuits to eliminate ridiculous combinations. For example, no letter must occur more than three times in succession."
"Three? Surely you mean two."
"Three is correct. I am afraid it would take too long to explain why, even if you understood our language."
"I'm sure it would," said Wagner hastily. "Go on."
"Luckily it will be a simple matter to adapt your automatic sequence computer for this work, since once it has been programmed properly it will permute each letter in turn and print the result. What would have taken us fifteen thousand years it will be able to do in a thousand days."
Dr. Wagner was scarcely conscious of the faint sounds from the Manhattan streets far below. He was in a different world, a world of natural, not man-made, mountains. High up in their remote aeries these monks had been patiently at work, generation after generation, compiling their lists of meaningless words. Was there any limit to the follies of mankind? Still, he must give no hint of his inner thoughts. The customer was always right . .
"There's no doubt," replied the doctor, "that we can modify the Mark V to print lists of this nature. I'm much more worried about the problem of installation and maintenance. Getting out to Tibet, in these days, is n
The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who cannot read them. - Mark Twain