In all our years of covering science, no issue has invited controversy like evolution, and that includes the debate on climate change and whether we'll ever own flying cars. As a magazine that had been Team Darwin since its founding in 1872, (just 13 years after Darwin wrote On the Origin of Species), we made it a point to publish periodic in-depth features defending evolution as a credible explanation for the origin of life.
Remember that video we posted on Monday about the paraplegic college graduate who used an exoskeleton to walk across the stage? In addition to making us shed grateful tears for the advancement of technology (whew, robotic tech isn't evil after all), it prompted momentary visions of a future where disabled people have ready access to bionic limbs, super-strong exoskeletons, electric eyes and stair-climbing wheelchairs. Just take a look at the technology in our archives to see what the disabled had to choose from during the greater part of the 20th century.
As someone who was born in the year 1986, I belong to the last generation of people who remember life before computers became an everyday necessity. At the same time, I'm too young to recall machines that lacked Internet access, a mouse, and a monitor. Most people my age or younger tend to assume that even the most rudimentary computers contained these elements, but a peek in our archives says otherwise.
Everyone has some skeletons in their closets, and after 138 years in publication, we're no exception. Just type the words "telepathy" or "Abominable Snowman" into our archives and you'll realize that "Popular Science" includes fields that are a little heavy on the popularity, less so on the science.
DIY projects have been a hallmark of Popular Science since we started printing articles with pictures. These contraptions ranged from homemade neutrodyne radio sets, to tractors, to borderline illegal breweries, but many of our favorites were featured between the 1940s and 1970s. By that time, our projects had taken on an "everyman" appeal; you didn't need to be an expert or a crazy inventor to assemble them, but they would take resourcefulness, dedication, and hours of sawing.
Throughout the 20th century, New York maintained a reputation for being the greatest city in the world. It housed the world's tallest building, the most extensive subway system and a group of the world's most creative minds. While the city strikes us as an aggressive, ambitious place, New York thrives on a sensr of nostalgia as much as of enterprise. What New Yorker hasn't felt incensed upon seeing a mom-and-pop deli replaced by a CVS? Who hasn't felt overcome with sentiment while beholding the Brooklyn Bridge on a summer evening? How fitting, given that we're using our archives to tour old-school NYC this weekend.
When it comes to retrofuturism, few motifs lie closer to our hearts than the 1920s-style airship. These majestic "whales of the sky," once considered a standard feature of future skylines, had an unfortunate tendency to burst into flames or get caught in thunderstorms. Only in the imaginations of science fiction enthusiasts do they continue flourishing.
Their demise is regrettable, considering our enthusiasm for their development in the 1920s. After serving the German army in World War I, zeppelins garnered popular appeal when Hugo Eckener re-established them as vessels of peaceful air travel rather than as weapons of warfare. Although Germany continued dominating the industry, American and British manufacturers produced airships that -- for better or for worse -- changed the course of aviation.
It has become inevitable. A day or two after a high-profile gadget hits stores, two stories pop up on the gadget blogs, the tech sites and magazines: A review, and photos of the gadget taken apart, most often courtesy of a website called iFixit. The latest and most evolved actor in the storied history of "teardowns," iFixit is the logical conclusion of the entire idea of stripping a gadget down to its barest components, photographing and disseminating the findings. An iFixit teardown is at once a 21st-century repair manual, a work of art, an exhibition of a curiosity, and an activist gesture.
Every month for the past 138 years, we've showcased inventions and concepts for mechanisms aimed at improving life. Sometimes this meant curing cancer, other times it meant having fun, and on rare (and scary) occasions, it meant building something because you could.
For every airplane, computer or chemical weapon appearing in our archives, there are a ton of other inventions that are, to put it bluntly, rather pointless. At best, they're well-intentioned but a little impractical. Let's take a look, shall we?