Five years later, I can check it off my to-do list. I never got the hardware working, and I didn’t even get past the rough-sketch stage of the design, but other people met my goals for me. The WikiReader (pictured) matches the original WikiBub idea perfectly: it’s simple, cheap ($99), open to hacking, and designed to do one thing (reading Wikipedia) well.

Of course, the idea of a simple-to-use ebook reader without eyestrain or battery issues is no longer new; the Kindle took care of popularizing that one. I also moved on to another hand-held reading device you may have heard of, which (mostly) took away my need for a dedicated reader. Still, it’s nice to see something so true to the WikiBub spirit. I hope it flourishes.

On the left, Lucas surrounded by a ton of stuff from the first Star Wars trilogy, which ended with 1983′s Return of the Jedi. On the right, Lucas surrounded by the only object that mattered in his second Star Wars trilogy, finishing with 2005′s Revenge of the Sith: A green chroma screen.

I’ve been thinking about this in terms of television shows lately. On the one hand, using CG and green screens is so much cheaper that it allows shoestring indie productions to look as good as big studio stuff. (See the indie-to-SciFi show Sanctuary for an example.) On the other hand, green screens make it harder for actors to get involved, and there are lots of ways to get the visuals subtly wrong.

So here’s my question: do we actually need the green screen anymore? There seem to be lots of “extended super special restored director’s cut” editions of existing shows and movies now, and plenty of YouTube remasters of even the crappiest pre-digital video. None of that stock had green screens or motion dots or matchmove data, so why can’t we shoot new video without all those things?

As an intermediate step, would it be possible to dress a set the way you might for a stage play, then fill in the screen-quality props and sets digitally? Can actors look out a cardboard window at a black cloth with stars painted on it, but viewers see a porthole with galaxies whizzing past? That way, you don’t have to make the decision between the on-stage prop and the virtual one until you’re in the editing room. Who knows? You might just decide to leave the cardboard in.

And showing off the friendship star quilt that Karen made for Luke, too!

Lots and lots more timey-wimey photos at the link. (Thanks to John for the link.)

Anyone interested in one of their own? I’d be happy to make up a PDF with your name and globalspin.com address and send you instructions on how to print them.

The RPM Challenge is to record 35 minutes of new music in 28 days, 10 songs you can burn to a CD and ship off before the end date. Sounds like a lot of fun if you have the time, which I don’t, but I wish I did. (I’ve had some fun noodling around with GarageBand before.)

See also: February Album Writing Month. (The difference? Beats me.)

Four thirty. A.M., as in oh-dark-thirty. Ben and Karen will be asleep for another three hours. Uh huh. Why am I up this early? Because I have to leave for the airport in an hour. Uh huh. Why is that again? It takes me a moment to focus, to remember. Oh yes. It’s because I go into berserker paroxysms of geeky hyperactivity whenever the triggerword API is spoken, and I don’t stop until some kind soul utters the safeword.

In this case the fiend is Chris Messina, and the cause of the utterance is Mash Pit. It’s the latest bud from the BarCamp bush, a one-day test to see if meatspace interaction can produce cyberspace results. If successful, a number of Mash Pits would follow, each building on the the code and content of the last. It’s in San Francisco, of course. I’m in San Diego, of course. “It’s not that far,” I think, glossing over the realities of security checkpoints, delays and AirBART. “The flight is barely as long as my old commute to Encinitas.” Uh huh.

The one lesson that gets hammered in the whole day is these things take time. Setting up the workspace takes time. Travel takes time. Establishing ground rules takes time. Herding cats Coordinating the ideas of a dozen developers takes time. Coming up with ideas takes no time at all, but executing — even just communicating — takes lots of precious time. In a way, that’s the big lie of the mashup: All the pieces are there, just put them together. Some assembly required. Assembling one of these carelessly simple mashups, though, takes real focus. I keep telling myself that I’m creating a mash-up, not just writing an application. (Applications are so Web 1.0.)

Even with all that, all the tired and the cranky and the applications, there is a real thrill to creating a mashup. Part of it comes from collaborating with truly extraordinary people, whether they’re in the room or live via remote. Part comes from that Mr. Potato Head feeling of plugging a few pieces together into something that takes on a personality of its own. With enough pieces to play with, the possibilities are endless. And when it comes right down to it, we need endless possibilities because there are endless problems to solve.

…even if those problems are trivial. Our finished product — complete with logo, domain, and revenue model — is WhuffieTracker, an ego aggregator that combs Web 2.0 sites to answer that age-old question, “Who’s talking about me today?” I kid, but it’s actually a compelling concept. I can totally see working on it further to bring it to fruition. And who knows? Perhaps it really will change the world by freeing up all those ego-surfing hours for employee productivity.

Home again. Eleven thirty. P.M. this time, but the moon’s up just as it was when I left this morning. Ben has been asleep for three hours. I chatter excitedly at Karen for a while, describing the day and our accomplishments, until it’s obvious that I’m wandering around aimlessly and bumping into things. She releases me with the safeword, bless her soul. “Go to bed.”