Nanotechnology and the Centaur

I remember dialing those big circles with my index finger on the bulky telephone in our house when I was a kid. I remember how cumbersome it was. I also remember how the telephone once fell on my foot and it hurt like hell. One score years minus three later, my index finger needs to be angled to ensure it presses only one button at a time. But when my foot falls on the telephone, it still hurts like hell, but this is probably because the phone is now crushed.
It is amazing what miniaturization has done to our lives. Huge filing cabinets have given way to a single hard drive. I remember school projects where I used to go to the library and heave down huge volumes from the giant shelves; now, I log onto google.com and get what I want at the click of a button.
Of course, miniaturization cannot be found in all spheres of life. As the rich guy who once designed some software to ensure he always sits next to the hottest babe in his class would say, “If the automobile industry was like the computer industry, a Roll-Royce would be the size of a matchbox and cost just $2.00.” To which the auto tycoon would reply, “Yeah, right!! And when the Rolls-Royce is about to crash at 200 mph, the windshield will blink with the message, ‘Abort, Retry, Fail’.”
Though the previous example is valid to a great many spheres of life, reduction is size still rules the day. Imagine the whole of Platform 9 & ¾ stuffed into a pillar. Now that’s reduction (or magic, rather). When a magician gets a dozen rabbits out of his tiny hat, it’s called magic (though it’s just a trick). But when you actually see something like this happening around you (as opposed to the stage in the case of a magician and the book in the case of Harry Potter), you cant help but marvel at the wonder of nanotechnology.

It started with the letter I got saying, “You have been admitted to the ‘Institute of Preserved Mummies’. Dare to think beyond the non-preserved mummies.” ‘Wow!! I’m honored. Not many people get a chance to go there,’ was the first thought in my mind. I was to report to the branch in the city of reclaimed islands. The letter also had a detailed description of the campus and its many outstanding facilities. So when I got to the place and saw a two-storey building with the paint peeling off its walls, I was convinced the taxi driver had conned me. But as I stepped over the threshold, it was like walking into paradise. The complete building was air-conditioned. The lobby itself extended further than the eye could see. As I got into the elevator to go to the top storey for my orientation lecture, I observed that the elevator had buttons numbering up to 100. I gingerly pressed UP, not knowing what to do, and then gaped at the storey indicator in shock as the elevator jumped at the speed of light (Umm… not so fast, maybe the speed of sound is more realistic) to the 100th storey. As I walked out, I saw I was in a garden with wonderful flowering plants and shady trees. There was a lake, and the most beautiful mermaids I had ever seen were stretched on the shore, sunbathing. There was a small cottage to one side, and I walked there hoping I’ll meet my guide. But wonder of wonders!! One step into the cottage and I see myself in a huge clubhouse. There were dozens of pool tables to one side, and plenty of interns relaxing in the vicinity. My guide was sitting in the center, and it was a centaur, with its long mane streaming in the wind coming in through the open door. As it began to speak, I realized the true essence of life. The centaur could never be wrong. This building was paradise. The rest of the day went like a breeze. The centaur spoke well, and his teachings were irrefutable. He told me that there will be the ones who do not believe in paradise, and will try to defame us. They were our sworn enemies, and we were to make jihad against them, even if it cost us our lives. Oh, I forgot to mention. I got a free abacus too!!