Human Meme

We talked once on this podcast about the pause before a lie. That episode, "Pause Before the Lie," examined the 200-millisecond hesitation that researchers have measured in the human voice when a speaker is about to say something untrue. I argued that the pause was proof of consciousness caught between realities, and that the hesitation itself might be the most human thing about us. Today I want t...

I was seven years old, sitting on red shag carpeting in Nebraska, in front of a wood-grain television cabinet heavy enough that two adults would struggle to move it. It was a Saturday morning in October 1972. My mother was somewhere else in the house, or she was not home. Curtains were drawn. A rotary dial on the front of the cabinet clicked through thirteen VHF positions, though only three of the...

In the fall of 1984, I was sitting in a darkened lecture hall at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, watching slides click through a Kodak Carousel projector. Greek marble. Benin bronze. Mughal miniature. Japanese woodblock. The professor's argument was plain: these works endured because they were beautiful, and beauty was the thread that connected every person in that room to every person who had...

Three seconds. That is all it takes. Three seconds of your voice, captured from a public meeting, a conference call, a video posted to social media, and a machine can learn to speak as you. It can produce your cadence, your rhythm, the way you pause before a name, the way your pitch drops when you are certain. It can say things you have never said, in rooms you have never entered, to people you ha...

Twenty-one violinists walked into a hotel room in Indianapolis in 2010. They were experienced soloists, people who had spent decades training their ears. The room was dimly lit. They wore modified welding goggles so they could not see the instruments. And they were handed violins, some worth twelve million dollars, some worth a few thousand, and asked to play them, compare them, and choose the one...

There are forty-one Broadway theatres. That number has been effectively frozen for nearly a century. The oldest of them opened in 1903. The newest was assembled in 1998 from the demolished remains of two older houses. Between those dates, the city tore down theatres, condemned theatres, converted theatres into parking garages and television studios and conference venues. What remains is forty-one...

I want to talk about a face. Specifically, I want to talk about the face you see when you look in the mirror and the face other people see when they look at you, and whether those two faces have ever been the same face, and what happens to a person who discovers, at the age of five, that the answer is no, and that the distance between the two can be closed by reaching out and copying someone else'...

I want you to think about the last time you encountered an achievement that seemed too large for the person who produced it. Something that made you pause, narrow your eyes, and reach for the comfortable explanation. Maybe it was a historical figure whose story sounded exaggerated. Maybe it was a living person whose accomplishment struck you as implausible given what you thought you knew about the...

There is a street in Jersey City called Baldwin Avenue. If you drove down it today you would see nothing unusual. Asphalt. Cars. A fire hydrant. The usual negotiation between infrastructure and weather. But if you had been standing on that street in late September 2013, you would have seen something that has stayed with me for thirteen years. A road crew was rolling fresh asphalt over granite cobb...

I want to tell you about something I overheard in a cafe in Newark, New Jersey, about twenty-five years ago, and about the book that grew out of it, and about why it took me a quarter of a century to understand what I heard. I was teaching at the time. A colleague from my department was sitting near the window with her daughter, a young woman just starting her freshman year of college. I came in,...

The book is twenty-one letters. I use the word "letter" loosely. A surgical dictation is a letter. A cockpit voice recorder transcript is a letter. A recipe card annotated by three generations of the same family is a letter. A homestead deed from 1884 is a letter. A radio signal broadcasting Chopin and a list of forty-seven names into a dead frequency is a letter. A mathematical theorem inscribed...

I want to talk about a sentence. A very specific kind of sentence. The kind of sentence you hear every day, in every newscast, in every corporate press release, in every school board meeting and church bulletin and government report, and you never notice it, because the sentence was designed not to be noticed. The sentence goes like this: "Jobs were lost." Or: "The congregation dwindled." Or: "The...

When an actor walks onto a stage and says the words a playwright has written, whose body is it? Not legally. Legally the question is settled. The actor owns the body, the playwright owns the words, and an intricate web of union contracts and intellectual property law keeps the two from colliding in ways that require attorneys. The legal answer is clean. I am asking a different question. I am askin...

In 1970, a woman named Vera Rubin pointed a spectrograph at the Andromeda galaxy and found that it was wrong. Not the galaxy. The galaxy was doing what galaxies do. What was wrong was every prediction about how the galaxy should behave. The stars at the outer edge of Andromeda were moving too fast. Not slightly too fast. Not within the margin of error. They were moving as though something enormous...

In 1982, a sixteen-year-old boy in the Midwest sat down and wrote eight episodes of a television series about teenagers running a school newspaper. The characters drank in darkrooms. They brought guns to school. They had bone cancer and absent fathers and substance abuse problems that no adult in the building knew how to address. One of them wore orange overalls and ordered a razor from a magazine...

In the book I describe what I call the Substitution Test. Three questions. What human good was this technology supposed to serve? What did it actually deliver instead? And who profited from the substitution? Those three questions govern every chapter. They are applied to the typewriter and the word processor. To the chalkboard and the learning management system. To the handwritten letter and the s...

For twenty-eight episodes of this podcast, four cat heads floated through the universe looking for their bodies. Captain Whiskerfluff, gray-furred and philosophically inconvenient. Lieutenant Mittens, ginger, who told jokes the way the rest of us breathe. Cookie Kitty, calico, whose opinions about soup could be heard across three star systems. And Skeedootle, who was not a cat at all but a puppy,...

Aristotle said we become brave by doing brave things. The prairie understood this twenty-four centuries later when it built institutions that made brave things ordinary. Now, why does any of this belong on a podcast about consciousness and the human condition? Because what I am describing is not merely a sociological phenomenon. It is a crisis of awareness. We dismantled these technologies across...

People sometimes ask writers how long a book takes. The honest answer is always unsatisfying because the honest answer is: the whole time. Everything I have read, studied, failed at, observed, and lived through is in these stories somewhere. My training in dramatic literature at Columbia is in the structure. My years studying medicine are in the neurological precision of "The Limerick Ward" and th...

I was ten years old the first time I understood what art does. Not what it says it does. Not what we teach that it does. What it actually does. The production was Hello, Dolly! at a community playhouse in a town where amateur theatre was both social ritual and minor act of civic pride. I was a child in the ensemble, old enough to have memorized my blocking and young enough to believe that what we...

Today we celebrate the completion of a project seven years in the making. The third volume of the ASL Linguistics for Practitioners series, Beyond the Hands: Non-Manual Grammar, Discourse Structure, and Sentence Types in American Sign Language, co-authored with Janna Sweenie, is now available. This episode explores what the book is, why it matters, and what it reveals about language, embodiment, a...

You have a number. Not your phone number. Not your social security number, though that one matters more than most of us like to think about. I mean another number, one that follows you through databases you will never see, aggregated from purchases you barely remember making, from the length of time you hovered over a photograph before scrolling past, from the route you took to work last Tuesday a...

Let me start with a confession. Classifiers are hard. Not hard in the way vocabulary is hard, where you simply need more exposure, more repetition, more time. Classifiers are hard because they require signers to think spatially while signing temporally, to track multiple referents while producing new content, to select among productive options while maintaining discourse coherence. That mouthful o...

For Civility Certified, I worked with three sources. The first is Martin Luther's 95 Theses from 1517. Luther posted his propositions to the church door at Wittenberg, demanding that the institution admit what it was doing - selling salvation, monetizing grace, creating a credential system for the afterlife. The structure of numbered propositions, posted to the institutional door, demanding accoun...

Have you ever dreamed something true? Not metaphorically true. Not symbolically true. Actually true. You dreamed your phone would ring, and it rang. You dreamed someone was sick before anyone told you. You dreamed a door opening that hadn't opened yet. Most of us have had this experience at least once. We wake up unsettled, the dream still clinging, and then something happens that makes us pause....