No, You Wouldn't Wanna Live in the 1890s.
An ode to technological progress.
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You did it again. Another night wasted. Doom-scrolling thru infinitely generated social media feeds, binges through Netflix shows and pigging out on Doordash orders. I did nothing productive today. Disgusted with yourself, you throw your phone across the room, onto the bed.
You sigh in self defeat. When did technology become so addicting? When did it become such a trap?? I wish I lived in simpler times; must’ve been nice.
*Poof*
A genie appears. “Huzzah! I am here to grant your wish!”
Wide-eyed, you say, “You’re a genie?! Genies exist?!”
“Yeah, didn’t you see Aladdin?”
He does look like a genie. You stare a little more intensely, he has all the ghostly characteristics of a genie except that he has no lamp & no face. No matter how hard you stare, you see a muddled puddle of features.
“Also I heard your wish, so I’m going to grant it.”
“Wait what wish?”
Ignoring you, he says, “Don’t worry, I’ll be there when you need me and you’ll make it back… eventually.”
He snaps his fingers and you feel a spike of vertigo throughout your body.
The room spins, you slip into unconsciousness and you awaken, lying on a lumpy mattress in a … wooden house?
“Welcome to 1890 America! A world where there are no cellphones, social media and endless catalogs of shows. Enjoy!”
*Poof*
The genie is gone.
1890? As in the 1890s?! I didn’t sign up for this!
“Genie! Oi! Take me back!”
No response.
Damn! Well, he did say I’ll eventually make it back. Let’s at least check it out; after all, how many people get to check out the 19th century?
You stagger up from your hay stuffed mattress, and go to wash your face. A small amount of the rising sun dimly lights in the interior of the room from the opaque street-side window. Where’s the light switch? Ohh, right there’s no electricity. You light a tallow candle; a small puff of smoke rises to the ceiling. All that exists in your room is your bed, a small wooden table and another door.
You walk over to the door, opening it. The waft of human feces blows into your face. Your ceramic throne that you once spent hours on with your phone has been downgraded to a pit in the floor. The stench of human waste envelops you along with a wave of flies. You stagger back, shutting the door. Ugh, that’s disgusting.
Wait, with no running water, I don’t have either a sink or bathtub… But if that’s the case, then where does everyone brush their teeth? You realize you’re now in a reality of stinking breath, knowing what a minty fresh, clean mouth smells like. Fine, I can live with bad breath for a while, it ain’t so bad! What’s for breakfast?
You scour the small room for signs of food and find a rough assortment of brown hunks lay, a small pouch with a stopper and a few scraps of paper. You sniff them and bite into them. They’re as hard as rocks. Bread? You unstop the corked pouch and take a sip. You immediately spit it out. Beer?! It tastes so nasty that a Bud light would be a vast improvement on this.
“Genie!”
*Poof*
Genie: “Yes?”
“How am I supposed to live like this? Bread as hard as rocks? I get the poop pit and the stinky breath but where’s the fruits? Milk? Or just water?”1
Genie: “Fruits? There are some stores in the city that sell fruits but they’re canned. The farms are too far away to bring them fresh, same goes for milk. So whatever doesn’t get eaten right away or turned to butter, spoils. But you can’t afford that right now.”
Genie: “And as for water, near most populated areas, most freshwater sources are contaminated since everyone poops in them. So you’re better off drinking the beer unless you want to get sick.”2
Genie: “Work address is on the paper, earn a living bud!”
*Poof*
So you pop in a bite of bread, a swig of beer & that’s breakfast. You step out into the street and see the criss-crossing of horse driven carriages, the people walking to work and vendors selling goods. But you’re too busy holding your nose and keeping your eyes from smarting to notice. That’s rancid.
Refuse and sewage fill the streets as sewage systems overflow and horse manure mix.2 Puddles of manure and cloudy water occupy the low leveled parts of the street as the horse drawn carriages zig-zag thru the streets, sloshing up the dirty water and dropping even more poop. You manage to get directions from some locals and walk, gingerly, dodging the sewage puddles. Finally, after walking, you make it to work, by the docks. A lumber yard?
“Hey you! Yeah new guy!’ shouts a burly man from across the yard. “Ya late for your shift. Get over here and do your job or I’m giving it to the next guy.”
Turns out earning your living means hauling loads of wood all day at the lumber yard.3
14 grueling hours later, back aching from the weight of the wood you’ve moved, hands rubbed raw and body throbbing, you stagger out of the yard. Oh man, my body aches…
“Hey, let’s head to pub!” calls out Joey, the only lumberer who was kind enough to show you the ropes.
You want to head back to the room & just crash but social obligations, am I right?
You head to a nearby pub where all the men have congregated. When you walk in, the stink of dozens of unwashed men fermenting in a wooden structure hits you. Turns out, bathing is something special that’s usually reserved for Sundays, right before church. Oh boy.
“Hey you hear? They might bring electricity to the homes soon! Some rich people down the street got it going!”4 cries out one man from the bar.
“Careful there, might take away your job Matt,”snickers another patting his disgruntled friend on the back.
“Yeah that’ll be interesting…” you murmur. Electricity’s the 1890’s equivalent of 2023’s AI I suppose.
You’re swigging back the drinks, one after the other. The beer isn’t good by any means. It’s watery and tastes like, well, nasty hops but does the job of getting a nice buzz on. I’d kill for a Budlight.
You head home, dodging the puddles again, and crash onto your hay mattress.
A few days past as you go about your routine. Wakeup, a few bites of food, dodge the puddles, work, pub, home.
As each day passes, you find yourself using the outhouse more and more at work. You start feeling more and more drained. It could be the back-breaking work from moving lumber everyday is wearing you down but it feels like something more than that.
What is happening? You stop the after work drinks, thinking it’s the hangover from the alcohol. You start getting muscle cramps and you find yourself in the shack many times a day, then many times a hour. Each time, you find yourself feeling weaker and weaker & the strength in your limbs diminishes. You eventually stop going to work, going back and forth to the toilet and bed.
By the 4th day, you are barely able to get out of bed.
Finally, you cry for the genie.
“Genie!”
*Poof*
Genie: “Ah! Good thing you called for me.”
“What is it?”, you moan softly.
Genie: “Looks like your bartender was cutting the drinks with some water to stretch his profits.5 Look like that water was contaminated with cholera.”
Genie: “I think it’s about time we skidaddled to another time, no?”
*Poof.*
You awaken in a hospital with a IV needle in your arm. “Antibiotics, are nice right?” said the genie. “Check out the 1960’s and let me know what you think.”
*Poof* And he’s gone.
You slip into unconsciousness…
Few days later, the hospital discharges you with your things. What was once a deadly malady is now a mere inconvenience, treated with a healthy dose of widely available antibiotics and saline.5
You check the items you were discharged with. A jacket, set of keys and some pocket money. You search the jacket and find a scrap of paper with your home address and work address. Perfect.
The roaring sixties huh? A sly smile stretches across your weakened face.
You catch a cab and drive thru the city with the windows down. The fresh breeze and the constant cars passing you by warm you up inside. Ah no more human shit in the streets. Just clean asphalt. The cab drops you off at your small home where you see a quaint one bedroom and one bathroom w/ a dashing Chevrolet outside. Sweet. You dash inside, checking to see if it’s there. Ah beautiful.
A tear falls from your face. Your ceramic throne is here along with a beautiful shower, a refrigerator and a microwave. The wonders of modern technology are here!
The next day, before heading to work, you drive your gleaming Chevy to the local gas station, and fill up that tank. You notice a sign that reads, “For Use as A Motor Fuel Only. Contains Lead”.7
Ah, yeah that’s a problem. But compared to the 1890s, 1960’s are heaven sent. Lead poisoning’ll be a problem but I ain’t staying that long.
You drive off, turn into your office park, check into your paper processing job, and kick back in chair in your cubicle. Beats hauling lumber in the hot sun!
After work, you come home and switch on the TV, having just made steak & potatoes on your stove and crack open a few cold ones.
On some nights, you go out with your friends from work, dancing at the bars. Sometimes, you get real lucky and steal a kiss or two from a pretty girl on the dance floor.
One night, after coming home from a particularly vivacious night, you snicker and say aloud, “See Genie? Life ain’t so bad.”
Genie doesn’t respond.
Months pass this way; you’re reveling in everything that a booming economy has to offer a single man with a well paying job.
But something nags you each day; it seems like you are getting more and more tired. You start getting night sweats, a slight fever and you seem to be, losing weight? Am I getting burned out? How?? I love my life. Also whenever you’re out drinking with your buddies, your neck becomes incredibly itchy.
So, one day, after work, you get yourself checked out by a doctor. The diagnosis comes back.
Cancer.
Specifically a type of lymphoma known as Hodgkin’s Disease.8
No. It can’t be.
The few options, radiation and surgery, are only emerging medical techniques and any chance of survival is minimal. Surgical removal, in particular, may not only fail to remove the cancer entirely but may result in complete disability and dysfunction.
You return home, in shock, mindlessly dropping the keys on the counter and sinking into your chair, when you become aware of another presence in the room.
Genie.
Genie: “Hey.”
You stare right thru him, too shocked to respond.
Genie: “I know. There are no treatments in this time. Surgery is at best an shot in the dark and the capabilities of chemotherapy are far too primitive to be of use.”8
You shake your head in disbelief.
“If you stay, this cancer is a death sentence,” he notes softly. He places his ephemeral hand on your shoulder gently, and asks, “Would you like to return to your time?”
“Yes, please.”
*Poof*
You awaken in a hospital bed w/ a small immunotherapy drip into your arm. After speaking to your doctor, you understand that Hodgkin’s is considered one of the most treatable cancers and that they have managed to catch it in a early stage.
“Keep your chin up; I’m very optimistic about where we stand,” your oncologist tells you. You schedule a follow up treatment appointment and leave the hospital, relieved.
You take a Lyft back to your apartment, enter the lobby, take the elevator and step off on the 3rd floor. You enter your apartment, sit on a chair and stare at the ceiling, head tilted back.
And so you sit. In your carpeted, A/C & heater controlled apartment with ceiling lights flicked on at a switch, a ceramic throne a few feet away, with a fridge that’ll keep your food (from countries all over the world) cold & preserved, a robust regulatory system to ensure food safety, with a medical system that possesses miraculous treatments, surrounded by an environment of clean water & earth, with a cushy remote software job that you can do from anywhere.
You notice a familiar ephemeral presence in the room.
Not looking away from the ceiling, you ask, “Genie, why did you come to me? Me of all people?”
Genie: “Hahaha, why wouldn’t I come to myself?”
Wait, what? Your head snaps to attention and you stare a little closer at that muddled face of the Genie. The blurriness of the genie’s face wanes away. And in it you see.. your eyes. The eyes of a old man staring back at you, wistfully.
“I’m the outcome of the life you were living; consuming what was around me without any appreciation or gratitude that I lost myself inside of it. No matter what new gadget I purchased, however many entertainment options I had available at my fingertips, or how many likes I got on social media, I was unhappy, ungrateful, forever chasing that next thing. Nothing was enough."
“I did not want you to live the life that I had so I came back to remind you: Technology is a tool; a good servant but a bad master. How you use it is up to you.”
It’s hard to imagine the progress that has arisen within these past 130+ years; there are those who would have fought to be able to simply wake up in our beds, walk over to our sinks and wash our faces each morning. To cook their breakfast on a stove and microwave while in their PJs. To have sanitary bandages and antibiotics sitting in their cabinets.
But as technology advances, an important question emerges: how do we relate to technology?
Do we truly recognize and appreciate the awesome power that progress has placed in our hand?
Remember, presently:
One in four people do not have access to drinking water.
One in three people do not have access to the Internet.
13% of people do not have access to electricity and 40% of the world does not have access to clean cooking fuels, resulting in severe indoor pollution & subsequent health issues.
There are those today who live in the same technological time as those in the 1890s & 1960s America.
Will we take advantage of the leverage these technologies provide us in bettering ourselves, and uplifting others?
Or will we allow these technologies to be our masters and place us down a path of negativity?
It comes down to what you use technology for. At the end of the day, technology is just a tool; the wielder is you.
Wield wisely.
- Kiran
“The streets were thickly covered with black rotten mud. These were proper dunghills of the town and were made a general depot for all kinds of rubbish and household sweepings, offal and filth.”
Lumber remained a major industry for SF going in the 1890s.
Electricity was just coming about in the 1890s; novel enough for public demonstrations and for the very wealthy.
Shocking how long the risks of lead were known and not addressed.
Treatment of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma has made phenomenal progress and it’s known for being one of the most treatable cancers.
If you made it this far, here’s a bonus picture:
Market Street, San Francisco (19th Century)
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Kiran’s Gems 💎
“The most dangerous story that’s ever been told is happiness lies just beyond achievement.”
Hadn’t put together the pieces of how being a creator and large scale entrepreneurship worked until Nathan Barry’s Billion Dollar Creator.
Interesting take on the centrality of human sacrifice in certain Mesoamerican societies & how that clashes with today’s prevailing culture in Mostly Peaceful Aztec Empire.