Turn On, Tune In, Veg Out
By NEAL STEPHENSON
Seattle
"IN the spring of 1977, some friends and I made a 40-mile pilgrimage to the biggest and fanciest movie theater in Iowa so we could watch a new science fiction movie called "Star Wars." Expecting long lines, we got there early, and found the place deserted.
"As we sat on the sidewalk waiting for the box office to open, others like us drifted in from the towns, farms and colleges of central Iowa and queued up behind. When the curtain in front of the big Cinerama screen finally parted, the fanfare sounded and the famous opening crawl appeared against a backdrop of stars, there were still some empty seats. "Star Wars" wasn't famous yet. The only people who had heard about it were what are now called geeks."
Plus, an obit for a man I knew in the long ago, that I thought dead for lo these many years: Dr. Zoltan Ovary. I knew him briefly when I was in New York for the first time in the early '70s.
By NEAL STEPHENSON
Seattle
"IN the spring of 1977, some friends and I made a 40-mile pilgrimage to the biggest and fanciest movie theater in Iowa so we could watch a new science fiction movie called "Star Wars." Expecting long lines, we got there early, and found the place deserted.
"As we sat on the sidewalk waiting for the box office to open, others like us drifted in from the towns, farms and colleges of central Iowa and queued up behind. When the curtain in front of the big Cinerama screen finally parted, the fanfare sounded and the famous opening crawl appeared against a backdrop of stars, there were still some empty seats. "Star Wars" wasn't famous yet. The only people who had heard about it were what are now called geeks."
Plus, an obit for a man I knew in the long ago, that I thought dead for lo these many years: Dr. Zoltan Ovary. I knew him briefly when I was in New York for the first time in the early '70s.