In an ever-more technology dependent world, how well can we cope when it all breaks down? Bob Papworth reports
EARLIER THIS YEAR, a group of international scientists – ably supported by hordes of scaremongering media types – worked themselves into a lather about a perfect storm of solar activity which was about to cause the end of the world as we know it. Super-sized electromagnetic
stuff was hurtling towards us at a rate of knots, threatening to wipe out umpteen squillions’-worth of communications satellites, before causing a global power failure and blowing fuses all over the shop. Needless to say, like the
millennium bug before it, it didn’t
happen. Planes didn’t drop out of the sky, smartphones continued to function, and the never-ending stream of Come Dine With Me repeats went out as usual. In the event, far from blasting the
entire human race back to the Stone Age, all it did was to make the aurora borealis a bit prettier than usual. However, while their worst-
case-scenario prognoses failed to materialise, the prophets of doom did manage to highlight the extent to which the vast majority of the world population has become dependent upon highly sophisticated – and highly vulnerable – technology.
TECHNO-FEAR The global travel industry is no exception. Indeed, it is more dependent and more vulnerable than most other sectors because it relies so heavily on multiple,
interlinked technologies. Even the most seemingly straightforward of business trips is a recipe-for-disaster in the making. Travellers use email to set up meetings, the internet to research destination information, and self- booking tools (SBTs) to book e-tickets and hotel reservations; they then fill up the car, pay by card for the petrol, and drive through the airport carpark’s automatic barrier. They then use the check-in kiosk
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to acquire a boarding pass, clear passport control, and head to the lounge to make a few last-minute mobile phone calls. Video screens tell him or her when and where to board the aircraft – itself a technological masterpiece, which relies on positioning satellites to find its way to its destination. At the hotel, his corporate card is swiped to cover any incidentals and, having dumped the briefcase in the room (accessed by a centrally- controlled key-card), our traveller then goes to the bar for a beer, “pulled” via an electrically-operated pump, and then uses the downtime to read through pre-meeting notes – a task made easier by electric lights – and checks emails on the company laptop.
EPIC FAIL
So it goes on. And, in the vast majority of cases, “go on” is exactly what it does.