-----Original Message-----
From: David Farber <dave@farber.net>
Date: Sunday, Jul 24, 2005 8:39 am
Subject: [IP] Requiem for a fictional Scotsman
Begin forwarded message:
From: "Kevin G. Barkes" <kgbarkes@gmail.com>
Date: July 24, 2005 7:41:03 AM EDT
To: dave@farber.net
Subject: Requiem for a fictional Scotsman
Reply-To: "Kevin G. Barkes" <kgbarkes@gmail.com>
Other kids worshipped baseball players. My hero was a fictional
Scottish engineer from the 23rd century.
Before the terms geek and nerd entered the vernacular, we were called brains, or, more cruelly, weirdos. We built Heathkits, disassembled
televisions and tape recorders, and bribed the librarian to give us
first crack at the new issues of Popular Science and Popular
Electronics, usually by changing the ribbon or switching the golf
balls on her newfangled IBM Selectric.
The normal people left us alone until they needed their eight tracks fixed, or someone to set up the projector for health class, or install a new ink pad on the mimeograph machine. Task completed, we would be
summarily dismissed with a curt thank you. We'd return to the
backstage of the auditorium/gym, the traditional sanctuary of the
oddballs on the audio/visual team.
Scotty was our hero because he was one of us. Instead of the
backstage, he was buried in the bowels of the Enterprise's engineering section, which wasn't even in the main part of the ship. There he
ruled, serenely, totally in control, obtaining supreme satisfaction in the knowledge that while the idiots on the bridge were supposedly in
charge, he was the one who made possible their continued existence.
And then there was the Spock business. We Scotty aficionados resented the Vulcan science officer. In the first place, the whole "I'm totally in control and have no emotions" thing was patently dishonest. He was like the guy on the AV squad who discovered girls over the summer and was suddenly Mr. Cool. Yeah, right. When his girlfriend dumped him for the football team towel manager (quasi-athlete is still better than
certified nerd), he nearly fried the pre-amp in the PA system by
replacing the 1 megohm resistor in the main power supply with a 1K
unit while in his emotionally distraught state.
Spock was our high school principal, a pointy eared deus ex machina who appeared and broke the rules of the game. I recall spending days
overhauling the motor and drive assembly of an old Wollensak
reel-to-reel mono tape recorder, finally getting its wow and flutter
back within specs. Rather than praise my efforts, the principal said
"Oh, we'll just buy a new one." Buy a new one? The possibility had
never even been presented to me! This is the parsimonious wretch who
only two weeks ago made me use rubber bands to replace the capstan
drive belt to save 50 cents! No wonder Scotty drank himself into
oblivion when he was off duty!
The Star Trek writers used Spock and abused Scotty in the same manner. They placed the Enterprise in some ludicrous situation which had no
resolution, then sent Spock down into engineering to order Scotty to
perform some action totally in violation of Trek's already delusional laws of physics.
Until the arrival of Bill Gates, Scotty was the first expression of the belief that the nerds could probably run things better, but were
disinclined to deal with such mundane challenges. Notice that when he was forced to take the con of the Enterprise- usually because Kirk was being held captive by the father of the native princess he'd just
boinked into delirium, and the hyper-intelligent Spock had been
rendered unconscious by a judiciously applied blunt object wielded by an alien with the appearance and IQ of a turnip- Scotty was by far the best strategic commander of the lot.
When you saw him in the captain's chair, you knew Kirk and Spock had screwed up yet again- but you also knew things would turn out fine
because the Scotsman would handily defeat the enemy du jour and would beam his sorry superiors' behinds back up to ship before the last
commercial break. And then what would happen? The episode would end
with Kirk and Spock congratulating themselves on their ingenuity while Scotty had already disappeared back into the depths of engineering to deal with the real responsibility of keeping the ship running.
Those of you who have saved customer presentations, demos and initial installations from ten-thumbed marketing types know what I'm talking
about. The suits go out for a night on the town to celebrate their
technical savvy and sales skills, while you're stuck in the cheap
hotel room with a poorly stocked mini-bar that you're not permitted to access anyway because of the cost, on the phone resolving a customer
crisis while simultaneously answering inane support questions via
e-mail. And frankly, you're happy about it. Who wants to listen to
salesmen talk about sports?
But I digress.
Finally, Scotty embodied the benefits of technology and the "can do" attitude that pervaded the 60s. Oh, he might complain mightily about
some absurd demand being placed upon him: what geek isn't conservative when it comes to maintaining stable environments for critical systems? But he believed, as did his real-world counterpart Gene Krantz, that
"Failure is not an option." It's the unspoken challenge that motivates those of us for whom Scotty is the ultimate role model.
Montgomery Scott, the fictional character, will continue to perform engineering miracles indefinitely on film, video, DVD, and media yet
to be devised. For that, we are grateful. But I sincerely mourn the
passing of James Montgomery Doohan- ironically, on the 36th
anniversary of the first manned moon landing- who made Scotty the
cultural icon he became.
The word is given, Mr. Scott. Warp speed.
-- Regards,
KGB
-----
Kevin G. Barkes
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