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TOTALLY
WIRED
RIPLEY D. LIGHT
@RIPLEYDLIGHT
Candidly, I was about four wines deep by high noon. Hold the judgment,
if you please. It was one of those whoopsie-daisy kinds of Saturdays where
the sun begs you to sip its splendor in the form of semi-effervescent Cal-
ifornia whites at your favorite neighborhood cantinas. Minimal risk of
indecorum on my part—of all the creative names my enemies call me,
Ripley D. Lightweight isn’t one of them. Though, yes, I do suffer that light-
est pinkening of cheeks, a lush’s flush, when I imbibe. Perhaps also a cer-
tain slackening of step and sense. So sue me!
Presently, I had a decision to make. Where to next? I polled the locals,
who could agree only on a nonrecommendation: Wherever I went, it must
not be that winery down the way. “I’ve worked in the area for 10 years,”
one said. “I’ve been there exactly once.” The reason was simple: The win-
ery had embraced—picture a crush of snobs scrunching their schnozzes
in sync—technology. Well, I had my destination.
I skipped to the front door. Overgrown with vines, it sat recessed from
the street, shrinking from view as if in shame. The room I entered was
very dark. “Have a seat,” said the woman behind the bar, too noncha-
lantly. I was (and remained) her only customer. She poured an inky red
and relayed the backstory. She and her husband were scientists, labora-
tory scientists, the kind in white coats, and they were bringing chemistry
to winemaking. More precisely, to wine preserving. The wine before me
now, in fact, had been opened ... three months ago. I squawked. She smiled.
Parents are wrong on this: Wine does not keep. One day for reds, two or
three for refrigerated whites. Three months? You might as well quaff the
rufous dregs that collect at the bottom of your trash. What this vintnerd
was promising was insane, even considering the machine to her right, a
cabinet-sized temperature-controlled box that was—forgive me, she lost
me early in the explanation. Likely it involved wafting her exposed wines
with some noble gas or other to prevent the putrefaction that too much
oxygen reekingly wreaks. The scientist kept smiling.
I sniffed. I sipped. And?
Terrible! Pfeuh! The wine was bad. I found myself smiling too. “Wow,”
was all I said. I wasn’t there to whinge and whine, to critique her soulful
efforts. Beaming, I sucked down the rest of her liquid experiment, genu-
inely grateful for the attempt. In an industry so resistant to modernity—
in oenophilia, technophilia surely finds its opposite—here was a true
progressive, bravely battling the tides of tradition. For too long has the
snifter set, comfortable in their ancient rhythms, viewed the application
of technology always and only as adulteration. Get over it. Let the inno-
vators, like a heavy red, breathe. There may yet come a day when you
can open a genetically re-created ’58 cab, enjoy a few glasses, and save
the last pour for your best friend—when they come to visit next spring.
WE ASKED CONTRIBUTORS:
“WHILE WORKING
ON THIS ISSUE,
WHAT GAVE YOU
HOPE?”
“Even more than his invention for
revealing a cell’s active genes, Jason
Buenrostro himself. Like many scien-
tists, he’s passionate about his work.
But he’s also humble and empathetic.
If Jason represents the next genera-
tion of scientific research, I’m all for it.”
—Contributor Jennifer Kahn (page 56)
“Talking with Hany Farid about his
work with political leaders to encour-
age the tech industry to protect us
against deepfakes, without creating
mechanisms that could be exploited
to suppress online expression.”
—Senior writer Tom Simonite (page 70)
“SpinLaunch, a company ditching
conventional rockets to dramatically
lower the cost of access to space.
If successful, the company will lay
the foundation for a truly robust
space economy that is essential for
turning humans into a multiplanetary
species.” —Staff writer Daniel
Oberhaus (page 61)
“Joanna Pearlstein. Working on a story
about the world’s most dangerous
hackers, along with a cover package
with 25 profiles, you want someone to
be sure you are getting things right.
For 16 years at wired, that person has
been Joanna. As a deputy editor, she
oversees the fact-checking depart-
ment; she also reads every story like
a seasoned lawyer and engages in the
deep philosophy of what is fact and
what is opinion. She is, in a word, wise.
And she’s leaving us. Joanna has given
all of us hope for the power of smart
and accurate storytelling. We are con-
soled that she’s staying in journalism.
But we will miss her.” —The editors
“Somebody finally started putting
caffeine in seltzer.” —Senior writer
Andy Greenberg (page 50)
ELECTRIC WORD WIRED 27.
DIARIES OF
AN UNBRIDLED
DIGITOPIAN
ELECTRIC WORD
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