March 2, 2125, Pinch Point Station, Near Orbit, New Earth III, Alpha Centauri:
“It’s not just the planet fracturing- it’s the universe!”
Halfway across the space station’s viewing concourse I freeze in mid-stride, taking in Jynny’s shout. Incredulous, I turn to stare at her. She’s whiteknuckled: holding both sides of an environmental control podium. Her CalcBot is a silvery blur gyrating above the nimbus of her hair. The ‘bot is feverishly scanning readouts, cycling so fast it can barely be seen. They are both lit by mad, fractious light strobing from the quarter-mile high viewports around us. Looking past them I take in the fact that what was until a few moments ago a verdant and peaceful planet rotating beneath the space station is now a maelstrom of insatiable gravitational need dragging us into Einstein’s worst nightmare with both hands.
An emergent black hole ripped into being from the living heart of a planet. It is . . . indescribable, entrancing. Then I notice the viewports themselves. Spider-silk cracks of white and blue are racing through the transparent material, clouding it with photonic speed. If those windows break we may not live long enough to be crushed in the event horizon of the planet, I think, surprised that this sounds like good news in comparison to everything else. The metal struts supporting the viewing concourse wail as the station’s thrusters fight to maintain orbit. A second, perhaps two, have passed.
I squint to see Jynny but before I can respond she adds: “It gets worse. After he blew up the planet, Graxxis didn’t escape back to his dimension. He went back in time. I think he’s after your dad.”
March 2, 2009: Waltham, MA, USA, Earth I, Milky Way:
The phone rings. It’s Samantha from Consult, Inc. with an intriguing proposition. Consult, Inc. is a government contractor working for the U.S. Government. Consult, Inc. is supporting the government’s digital television transition outreach efforts. Samantha explains that the digital transition television project is helping citizens prepare for the upcoming television broadcasts spectrum switch from analog to digital broadcast bands. In a few weeks anyone who owns an analog television may find themselves without access to television broadcasts. She needs a research team with expertise conducting usability research with persons with disabilities. Samantha explains that the public has for the most part found the analog-to-digital transition confusing or irrelevant.
The broadcast spectrum transition date has been adjusted more than once and the public may assume a) the “digital transition” has happened, b) it won’t happen or c) it won’t happen for “a while.” Owners of High Definition televisions or those who subscribe to cable-TV services won’t be visibly affected. As for everyone else, well, that’s the question.
Over the past few years, government-sponsored digital Transition preparation efforts have ensured that wide variety of support services are in place: local, state, and federal agencies have rallied to distribute information, staff help centers, provide online and offline information, and even to ship digital television conversion equipment at low or no cost to requestors. Aspects of the transition from its overall relevance to its logistical outcomes have been hotly debated across the media spectrum. Pundits and pollsters have weighed in on television, in newspapers, websites, blogs, and coffee shops across America. Samantha’s project in particular is charged with educational outreach, providing transition support, and evaluating the efficacy of the overall efforts. Herein lies the crux of how my usability research team can help: Troublingly, about 3.5 million persons with disabilities have requested assistance and applied for television conversion equipment but have not yet finalized the conversion process by redeeming government-provided coupons for the necessary equipment.
Samantha’s team has been tasked with identifying the barriers that are keeping “partial-program-participants” from receiving TV converter boxes and then making recommendations as to how those barriers might be overcome. The challenge for my team, Samantha explains, is two-fold: The project has only two weeks left before the digital switchover occurs and these audiences include some of the most “off the grid” populations the US has to offer. From the paperwork the partial-participants filled out to start the DTV assistance process Samantha knows that these audiences are likely to have visual or auditory impairments (or both), are not cable-TV subscribers, are using analog televisions, are not necessarily Internet users, are largely from rural and under-served parts of the US, and have, for unknown reasons, shown themselves to be tough for the Government to inspire into action. Demographically speaking, they’re an important but small set of needles in a very, very large haystack.
Samantha needs us to identify partial respondents, interview them, and discover why they aren’t completing their participation in the program. Challengingly, there are only two weeks left to make programmatic course corrections before their televisions go blank. From prior experience finding demographic needles in geographic haystacks I have an unvarnished understanding of what finding these audiences on such short notice will take: a miracle. The traditional avenues I, and my recruiting partner rely on for last-minute hard-target recruits won’t help us here. The Internet may be of limited use. There’s no community center I can traipse down to and hand out flyers. Many of the geographic regions of interest are extremely remote. There won’t be a ready-made list of contacts we could purchase. And most challenging of all: the audience itself has self-identified as hard to reach and difficult to motivate. It’s a crazy prospect.
Naturally, I say yes.
March 2, 2125, Pinch Point Station, Near Orbit, New Earth III, Alpha Centauri:
"That it’s suicide doesn’t begin to cover it!”
Jynny’s pretty busy, so her pep talk is a little more emphatic than usual. She continues: “I can’t be sure I’m sending you back in time to the right location, I have no idea how we’ll get you back, and that’s just the stuff you do want to hear about!”
The space station is decomposing around us in an electronic way: the air is full of sparky finery and metal unpleasantries. Jynny has me standing on the threshold of the machine that Graxxis’ used to go back in time. She’s jabbing red-bulbed electrodes onto my head and shoulders at a truly impressive (and uncomfortable) rate. As I understand it, and believe me, I’m far from understanding it, she’s sending me back in time to stop Graxxis from killing my Dad, simply because at some point before Dad died fifty years ago he did something that Graxxis doesn’t like. Mad. But what Graxxis doesn’t like might save my friends, the space station, and the universe. So I need to save my Dad.
“Send me!” I shout.
March 2, 2009: Waltham, MA, USA, Earth I, Milky Way:
Mary, my ace recruiter and partner for seeking out study participants far and wide, politely and convincingly declines the job three times.
Each time I listen quietly, agree with her logic, and echo her reasonable concerns about the short timeframe. It would take a miracle to find these audiences on such short notice, I say, agreeing with her. The fourth, (fifth?) time I call her back to discuss how we’re going to do it she acquiesces gracefully. "So we’re really taking this job," she says. I smile and tell her about the miracle. The miracle, of course, is relationships. In order to find the populations we’re seeking, and in the numbers requested, my team will reach out through traditional channels: email lists, calling lists, and online postings, but to succeed it will be vital for us to quickly identify “connection aggregators.” These are persons who work with, know, or support the populations we’re seeking. They might be advocates, care-givers, social service providers, employers, or part of the target audience’s family or social network.
Even better are Aggregator Connectors who work with, know, or otherwise have access to large numbers of the target population. A disabilities coordinator, perhaps. Not that finding those audiences will be easy. And even after finding them, convincing them to help us immediately, rather than at a more rational pace requires trust. Building trust takes time, authority, or luck. We have none of those on our side.
The reality is, making those kinds of relationships on next to no notice is akin to convincing a stranger that you’re their future progeny, sent backwards in time to safeguard the timeline and save the universe.
I call Samantha. “We’re on it!” I say.
Time Transfer: March 2, 2125-March 10, 2009, Geolocale Unknown:
Not fun. Blue. Flashes. Electric. Unhappy. Stretching. Time travel is
March 5, 2009: Waltham, MA, USA, Earth I, Milky Way:
It’s been three days. Mary’s office is a war-room of printouts, jotted phone numbers on post-it notes colored by region or caller’s reactions. Our log of places called puts the “spread” in “spreadsheet.” But our forays are starting to bear fruit. Calls to state and local disability coordinators are helping us understand how organizational support for persons with disabilities vary in structure from state to state. Visits to Google Earth and Google Maps are yielding the names of churches, hospitals, libraries, and support centers inside the geographic areas of interest. We reach out to colleagues in the accessibility and disability communities, asking them to dust off their extended networks. As I begin to worry that my phone will become a permanent part of my ear I begin to hear “I think I met a guy who knew a guy in that region” more often than “Jeez, I wish I could help.” In one shining moment Mary calls to tell me she’s discovered a consulting firm in Texas that specializes in helping people with disabilities make the digital TV transition.
I say very nice things about Mary to Mary and then call the firm. I throw the poor administrative assistant who answers the phone every convincer in my repertoire: I represent a non-profit, a research study, offering information and honoraria to underserved persons, the same underserved persons they themselves are in fact serving. It works. After being bounced up the firm’s reporting hierarchy, the assistant director is excited about assisting us, happy to contact persons they’ve worked with on our behalf, and only needs the director to sign off before getting started. Elated, we contact the director who shares our enthusiasm, agrees with our approach, and would of course be happy to help once his sponsor, the government agency funding the center signs off on our impromptu partnership. He suggests I join them for their weekly call at the end of the following week.
Emboldened, enthused, I suggest: “Why don’t we call them right now?” We do. The government's programmatic representative we reach is cautiously enthusiastic and agrees with the urgency and beneficial nature of our study. But their government agency is different from the government agency my clients are working with, and getting permission for an impromptu inter-agency partnership would be unlikely. They can’t help us.
I hate it when the light at the end of the tunnel reveals a dead end.
March 10, 2009: Waltham, MA, USA, Earth I, Milky Way:
Time-jump successful! After spending ridiculous amounts of time lost in an era with sub-standard signage I believe I’ve found the structure where my Dad worked. Works. I’ve managed to elude the authorities, successfully thwarted Graxxis twice, and spilled some kind of low-fat nutrient on my pants. In a few moments Dad and I will be face to face. It occurs to me that I should think of something to say.
How do you convince someone that you’re their child from the future and that the fate of the universe depends on collaborating? And why Dad? He always said user-centered design gave voice to the voiceless and fostered technological leaps by empowering the masses. Perhaps that’s more powerful than I ever gave him credit for.
March 10, 2009: Waltham, MA, USA, Earth I, Milky Way:
The recruit is finished and our research was successful!
Thanks to diligence, creativity, luck, and hastily built relationships with kind-hearted, administrivia-hating souls. The secret was finding contact aggregators who could put us directly in touch with the persons we were seeking. As a result, we were able to identify and interview the people we were seeking in the time allotted us. (Ok, I pulled an all-nighter to write the findings report. But we made the deadline) Our client, Samantha, was amazed, we made some phenomenal contacts across the US for future recruits, and after a few weeks my recruiting partner, Mary will undoubtedly admit that it was a worthwhile learning experience.
Moreover, thousands of people will now have access to new technologies and new ways to communicate. Who knows what that will lead to?
The only odd part was when some strangely-dressed guy tried to run me over yesterday with a stolen delivery truck. When the police took him away he was shouting something about cursing "usability for keeping people free.” Bizarre.
The truth of the matter is- hold on- there’s someone speaking urgently to my administrative assistant outside my office. Something about saving the universe? Can you wait here a second? I’d better look into it.
Saving the universe. Mary’s going to kill me. . .