Read Online Ecotopia by Ernest Callenbach - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ernest Callenbach
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guarantees don’t seem to exist at all. People take it for granted that manufactured items will be sturdy, durable, and self-fixable—which of course means they are also relatively unsophisticated compared to ours. This state of affairs has not been achieved easily: I have heard many funny stories about ridiculous designs produced in the early days, lawsuits against their manufacturers, and other tribulations. One law now in effect requires that pilot models of new devices must be given to a public panel of ten ordinary people (“consumers” is not a term used in polite conversation here). Only if they all find they can fix likely breakdowns with ordinary tools is manufacture permitted.
An exception of sorts is made for video and other electronic items. These are required to be built of standard modularized parts and shops must stock component modules as well as test equipment, so users can isolate and replace defective components. And of course much electronic gear is now so small that it must simplybe recycled if it stops working. The Ecotopians, indeed, have produced some remarkably miniaturized electronic devices, such as stereo sets no larger than a plate, ingeniously responsive controls for solar heat systems and industrial processes, and short-range radiotelephones built into a tiny earphone. These evidently satisfy a national urge for compactness, lightness, and low power requirements.
(May 11) This morning got my first look at that curious Ecotopian practice known as cooperative criticism. Had stopped in at one of their little open-front cafes where you can get an overwhelmingly hearty breakfast. Family-style tables, but it was still early, and conversation desultory. A man near me who had ordered scrambled eggs broke the quiet after the waiter brought his plate.
“Look at those eggs!” he demanded—not of the waiter, as we might do, but of the cafe at large. He held them up for all to see. “They’re totally dried out!” At this point, I expected the waiter to try to soothe the customer and offer him a new plate of eggs. Instead both customer and waiter headed for the kitchen area, which was off to the side of the room but separated only by a counter. (Ecotopians take pleasure in being able to inspect ingredients and see their food being cooked. Their kitchens are always open to view, and they watch the cooks rather as we watch a pizza-thrower.) “Who cooked these eggs?” the customer asked. One of the cooks, a woman, put aside a pot and walked over to look.
“I did. What’s wrong with them?” The man repeated his complaint, the woman took a fork, sampled the eggs. “You must have left them lie on the plate,” she said. “The plate’s got cold too.” Several hands reached out to touch the plate, and sub-arguments broke out about that, the consensus being that the plate was still pretty warm, and the woman must indeed have overcooked the eggs. “Why weren’t you watching them?” the customer asked. “Because I have two stoves and about 14 orders going!” retorted the woman.
At this, some happy customers chimed in, saying that Ruth was a phenomenally careful cook and had done
their
eggs to perfection.So then the problem of Ruth’s workload was examined by all present, loudly. (Meanwhile, new customers were drifting in and all were joining into the discussion, and every breakfast in the place was getting stone-cold; nobody cared.) Somebody asked Ruth why she didn’t yell for help when she got behind, and she blushed and said, with a resentful glance at her fellow cooks, that it was
her
job and she could do it. One of the other customers, who seemed to know Ruth, said he knew she wouldn’t ask for help from the other cooks, who were also busy, but what would be wrong with admitting that occasionally the load got extra heavy, and yelling for help?
Here many customers chimed in, telling her they’d be glad to step into the kitchen and pitch in for a few minutes. At this, Ruth began to
An exception of sorts is made for video and other electronic items. These are required to be built of standard modularized parts and shops must stock component modules as well as test equipment, so users can isolate and replace defective components. And of course much electronic gear is now so small that it must simplybe recycled if it stops working. The Ecotopians, indeed, have produced some remarkably miniaturized electronic devices, such as stereo sets no larger than a plate, ingeniously responsive controls for solar heat systems and industrial processes, and short-range radiotelephones built into a tiny earphone. These evidently satisfy a national urge for compactness, lightness, and low power requirements.
(May 11) This morning got my first look at that curious Ecotopian practice known as cooperative criticism. Had stopped in at one of their little open-front cafes where you can get an overwhelmingly hearty breakfast. Family-style tables, but it was still early, and conversation desultory. A man near me who had ordered scrambled eggs broke the quiet after the waiter brought his plate.
“Look at those eggs!” he demanded—not of the waiter, as we might do, but of the cafe at large. He held them up for all to see. “They’re totally dried out!” At this point, I expected the waiter to try to soothe the customer and offer him a new plate of eggs. Instead both customer and waiter headed for the kitchen area, which was off to the side of the room but separated only by a counter. (Ecotopians take pleasure in being able to inspect ingredients and see their food being cooked. Their kitchens are always open to view, and they watch the cooks rather as we watch a pizza-thrower.) “Who cooked these eggs?” the customer asked. One of the cooks, a woman, put aside a pot and walked over to look.
“I did. What’s wrong with them?” The man repeated his complaint, the woman took a fork, sampled the eggs. “You must have left them lie on the plate,” she said. “The plate’s got cold too.” Several hands reached out to touch the plate, and sub-arguments broke out about that, the consensus being that the plate was still pretty warm, and the woman must indeed have overcooked the eggs. “Why weren’t you watching them?” the customer asked. “Because I have two stoves and about 14 orders going!” retorted the woman.
At this, some happy customers chimed in, saying that Ruth was a phenomenally careful cook and had done
their
eggs to perfection.So then the problem of Ruth’s workload was examined by all present, loudly. (Meanwhile, new customers were drifting in and all were joining into the discussion, and every breakfast in the place was getting stone-cold; nobody cared.) Somebody asked Ruth why she didn’t yell for help when she got behind, and she blushed and said, with a resentful glance at her fellow cooks, that it was
her
job and she could do it. One of the other customers, who seemed to know Ruth, said he knew she wouldn’t ask for help from the other cooks, who were also busy, but what would be wrong with admitting that occasionally the load got extra heavy, and yelling for help?
Here many customers chimed in, telling her they’d be glad to step into the kitchen and pitch in for a few minutes. At this, Ruth began to
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