Imagine a world without coffee. Imagine a
world without corn, soy beans, potatoes, tomatoes,
tea, pepper, whiskey, chocolate or sugar. Imagine
a world without silk, cotton or rubber. Imagine
a world without electricity, plate glass, anesthetics
or soap. I can imagine such a world: this is
the world of the ancient Greeks and Romans,
and they did all right, considering. What I
can't imagine is all the things that don't
exist yet. Trying to imagine what will be an
indispensable, absolutely necessary, common-as-dirt
aspect of the world one hundred years from
now is like trying to imagine a new color.
When
I sit for a while and collect my thoughts
over a steaming cup of coffee, I reflect that
this simple pleasure was denied the great Caesars
and all the Pharaohs of Egypt, who didn't even
know what they were missing. How can you miss
something that you don't know about? But we
all know the pleasure of finding something
like Band-Aids or Post-It Notes: the minute
we see it we can't think how we ever did without.
In each one of us there is a yearning for things
that don't exist; an unfelt need. And we will
never be happy until we attain this ever-receding
goal, and we never will. Ours is worse than
the torments of Tantalus, who at least knew
what he didn't have.