Hello, Hal.

Novels and movies such as A Space Odyssey and I, Robot have made cynicism of robotics second nature, the water-cooler thought that robots will attack humans and take over the world a collectively held view with nary a shrug.

And speaking of sci-fi and cutting edge technology (weren‘t we?), here’s something I saw on the news today that has the potential to change lives, not to mention likely has the bazillion-dollar wheelchair and scooter industry quaking on their rims. The potential here is staggering. I can only imagine what it could mean for the bed bound, the paraplegic, and the disabled. And this is only the beginning. Surely future prototypes will be smaller and so easily hidden beneath clothes. And at $20,000 a pop? I don’t think it’s an unreasonable amount when compared to scooters and hydraulic van lifts and retrofitting homes and businesses to be wheelchair or scooter accessible, etc, etc. It could even, perhaps, be subsidized (or even partially subsidized) by the government. I mean, really, think of the workforce it could regenerate. Think of the possibilities. Think of the human aspect. Please.



Now compare that to the UC Berkeley Exoskeleton video below. Note the huge differences in bulk, size, weight, obvious strain on the wearer, and aesthetics.



Amazing. Simply amazing.

When I was a teen I had a friend in a boy whose name I’ll leave out for privacy sake. He was a sweet, wonderful person from a loving family who had everything going for him.

Life doesn’t blindside you when you seem to be standing still. No, life blindsides you when you’re heady and you’re happy and you let your guard down, just once.

This proves something. That maybe there’s a plan, though it’s hard to see or understand, if ever. That maybe we need to go down certain roads, forced down them if needs be, to see what we’re made of. That maybe when you let your guard down, you leave yourself open for some crazy-ass football player to blindside you. That was more or less what happened to a friend of mine as he crossed the train tracks beside the overpass on graduation night. It came in the form of a right front tire that drifted off the pavement and struck the full rail, his car coming to a stop on its roof. As you can imagine, it was a long and slow road to recovery—one full of unfathomable pain and depression.

Now years later, and he has overcome so much. He’s married (though he bet good money that would never happen) and a family man (though the doctors said it was impossible). Best of all, he’s again that sweet, wonderful person from a loving family who has everything going for him... but one. He’d like to someday walk with his children. It’s for him, and people like him, that I hope this suit succeeds.