May 30th, 2014


The future is the new past

"As he unlocked his office door, his superior, Police Inspector Harry Bryant, jug-eared and redheaded, sloppily dressed but wise-eyed and conscious of nearly everything of any importance, hailed him. 'Meet me at nine-thirty in Dave Holden’s office.' Inspector Bryant, as he spoke, flicked briefly through a clipboard of onionskin typed sheets."

It's 2019, in Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?  I read this and tried to think how I would describe the meaning, derivation, and use of "onionskin typed sheets."   For SF of a certain age, it's the past that needs to be explained, not the future.