A "HOWTO" (or "how-to") is a type of online instructional document that breaks down a complex operation (e.g., configuring a Web server) into easy step-by-step instructions. Like its cousin the README, this tradition is closely associated with developers for the UNIX operating system, and may date back all the way to 1973 when the OS was ported from assembly language to the "C" programming language, to make the code easier to read, maintain and modify. However, since these early documents were never published on paper and were stored in digital formats only an archaeologist could love, the earliest durable use of the term occurred on Jan. 28th, 1982, when someone posted an ARPANET announcement about a newsreader software release that included a "howto.ms" file telling users how to set it up.Anyway, since that time—and particularly in the past few years—the HOWTO has exploded out from the world of software, becoming a popular method for teaching n00bz everything from card counting to party planning to (sadly) how to commit suicide. In that vein (so to speak), and in keeping with my mandate to harp on the flaws and oversights of science-fiction movies and TV shows, I'd like to announce a (sporadic, irregular, when-I-feel-like-it) series of HOW NOT TO articles, the first of which is inspired by Tom Hanks' new movie,
City of Ember. How not to create an armageddon-proof ark-opolis for humanity.
1) CLUSTER AND CRAMP. First of all, you put the whole thing in a single underground cavern, with a natural stone roof that hasn't been reinforced. That way, not only can falling rocks threaten the lives of individual citizens, but you run the risk that a single large cave-in will wipe out the entire settlement. Extra points if you build on a fault line or close to an active volcano, or (what the heck) on top of an underground river whose flow rate is in no way constant.
2) INHUMAN FACTORS. Why pass Doomsday in a gleaming
Logan's Run city when you can instead pack your people into a steampunk nightmare of grime and gloom and creeping rusty decay? Plastic, glass and stainless steel are out; whenever possible, go with bronze and burlap.
3) THE RULE OF ONES. Our Native American forefathers practiced the rule of threes, insisting that every nomadic group have at least three independent sources of food, raw materials, shelter, etc. Screw that; give your city a single hydroelectric generator to run the air and lights and plumbing, preferably with a design life slightly shorter than your countdown to exit. Also, entrust the exit instructions to a single person, so that when (not if) he dies without passing on the knowledge, no one else knows the city has an exit at all, much less how to operate it.
4) DO NOT FORGET ME NOT. Erase the memories of everyone involved, and feed them some bull-puck story about how their city is the only thing in the entire universe. If they don't know about the outside world, they won't mess things up by trying to escape to it, and 10 generations later their descendents will be real twits. Way to go.
5) PRODUCTION IS FOR LOSERS. Give your victims residents exactly enough food, light bulbs, boot laces and spare plumbing for a 200-year entombment. That way, corruption and unforeseen accidents can create genuine shortages ahead of schedule that make it clear the "world" will end with a whimper if not a bang. Under no circumstances should you give the city any ability to mine its own raw materials, produce its own goods or explore its own environment.
6) MERITLESS-OCRACY. Do not assign jobs to people based on aptitude or preference. Rather, assign them randomly to maximize the chance that people either hate their lifelong vocations or are bad at them, or both. Remember: Happy, competent workers are more likely to understand the broader context of their jobs and head problems off before they occur! Also more likely to pass on their knowledge, which is a definite no-no.
7) THE GIFT OF HELPLESSNESS. Instill in the people a baseless "faith in the Builders," so when things go wrong they'll just sit around and wait to be rescued. Do not tell them the Builders are all dead, along with everyone else who ever lived. When you get right down to it, the Builders (yourself included) are otnay ootay ightbray, and you sure don't want people figuring that out.
8) KEEP IT COMPLEX, STUPID. Sure, your exit could be a simple vault door that swings open all by itself, but where's the fun in that? What you need is a hideously complex clockwork mechanism of pulleys and levers, gears and paddles, boats and canals and flume rides that barely work at all, and that will (by design) kill people and/or self-destruct if operated improperly.
9) SURVIVAL KIT? WHAT SURVIVAL KIT? On the off chance that your people do find their way out, blinking and sneezing in the daylight after two long centuries among the radioactively mutated mole-beetles, make sure they know nothing, have nothing and can do nothing. Hopefully they'll die of sunburn or something, but if not they'll at least starve to death, or freeze when winter comes. Do not supply tents, farming implements or (God help us all) an encyclopedia.
10) TRUST YOUR LUCK. No matter how hard you try to doom your city to a slow and painful death, you can't be sure some snot-nosed kids won't figure out your secrets and manage somehow, at the last possible minute, to pull things out and save the day. Or that a single dropped message won't somehow find its way into exactly the right hands. Or that a screenplay as silly as this one won't get turned into a major motion picture and foisted off on real-world children as some kind of demented morality play.
And that, ultimately, is the message of
City of Ember: that in a world of really amazingly poor planning, luck and persistence are all you need. That, and a little help from grown-ups who used to be snot-nosed kids themselves. Anyway, in spite of all that, it's a cute movie that kids of all ages will probably enjoy, whether I approve or not.
Sources:Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia (en.wikipedia.org): "UNIX", "HOWTO"
Wil McCarthy is a rocket guidance engineer, robot designer, nanotechnologist, science-fiction author and occasional aquanaut. He has contributed to three interplanetary spacecraft, five communication and weather satellites, a line of landmine-clearing robots and some other "really cool stuff" he can't tell us about. His short writings have graced the pages of Analog, Asimov's, Wired, Nature and other major publications, and his book-length works include the New York Times notable Bloom, Amazon "Best of Y2K" The Collapsium and most recently, To Crush the Moon. His acclaimed nonfiction book, Hacking Matter, is now available as a free download.
