The family is a manufacturing plant, alive with the hum of activity. Various things go in the doors and come out of the doors. Mysterious processes operate within the four walls. And within this factory is “the father”. It’s a diesel electric generator without which the factory is just cinder walls and cold space without lights or motion. This generator has various tasks. It powers things like the air conditioner, the coolers and heaters, and the lights that run all the time – and it has circuits designed to handle those constant loads. This generator’s main purpose is to provide the resources for everyone and everything within the factory to thrive and succeed. The heat lets the people work. The lights let them see. The power outlets power their tools. The refrigerators and microwaves in the break room draw power from it to give a rest during lunch.
This factory is really modern – it has lots of robotics. There are maintenance robots that dock themselves each night to recharge, but otherwise maintain much of the facility. So it can be said that “the father” is responsible for maintenance. Whatever breaks within the factory has a “fixer” dispatched and taken care of in short order. In a sort of snake-eating-its-own-tail sort of way, those same maintenance robots even maintain “the father” itself so in addition to providing for everyone and everything else this generator has to provide for itself. But it too needs something to function – diesel fuel. Someone has arranged for regular deliveries of this one necessary raw material. “The father” doesn’t know who or what that is only that a certain amount of it is provided. It just shows up. Until it doesn’t. And then it runs inefficiently. It’s capacity is finite but usually sufficient – by design. But sometimes, when demands are very high or the regular diesel shipment is late or short, then “the father” doesn’t do its job so well.
The lights and heat are core – and they run 24/7/365 – a fairly large amount of “the father’s” capacity is dedicated to these largely-invisible tasks. But some of what “the father” provides is much more visible to the people in the factory. There are lots of outlets all over and the people plug their tools where they need to in order to do their own jobs. Different things are constantly needed and draw energy wherever and whenever. Some of these things are powerful and draw through big wires. Some of what happens in the factory takes a lot of energy – building things, transforming things, and turning them out is hard work. But “the father” has limits. Not everything can be handled all at once. And when certain events happen – when this tool or that floodlight – all get plugged in at once, then the demands get too much. The wires on that circuit threaten to melt – and the maintenance robots can’t fix the wires. So “the father” has circuit breakers given it by its designers. They “trip”. With a loud “CLACK”. And then that circuit goes dead. And the maintenance robots can’t reset those either. It takes outside intervention to “reset”. It might be down for a few minutes – or an hour – or a day – or longer if no one notices that particular set of outlets isn’t working. To the workers, those breakdowns are mysterious. The person who plugs in their phone charger doesn’t know that the worker around the corner plugged in an unauthorized space heater. They don’t pay attention to the fact that the welding torch is using every last bit of energy in that circuit at the moment. They just know that “the father” couldn’t handle their need.
Not many of the people in the factory know how to maintain “the father”. When “the father” itself breaks, it takes a special crew from outside the factory to fix it so those within are prone to grumble. “Why can’t I plug this into my work table today?” “What am I supposed to do?” “That generator is about as worthless as can be – it never works right.” And sometimes people don’t understand what “the father” does and doesn’t do. It does so much for so long with so little attention or notice that it becomes invisible and people want it to do things it isn’t designed to do. People have been heard to say “I’m sick of not having a recreation area, why doesn’t ‘the father’ provide one?” They know “the father” provides a lot of things – they vaguely understand that much of what they need during their day shows up because it is off in its corner humming along -- but they don’t comprehend the difference between “design” and “execution”. “The father” is primarily something that “executes”. It didn’t design itself. It didn’t get to choose its configuration – or its limits – or the raw material it takes – or the tasks assigned to it. And there are always upgrades, new demands, new things added to its circuits – like the maintenance robots. There used to be people. There used to be a maintenance shop with lots of different trades – machinists and electricians and metal workers and coal shovellers (before the diesel). “The father” used to have its own hum of activity surrounding it, maintaining it, “feeding” it. But now it just sits there – automated, mechanical – in its own space – humming along, taking diesel fuel in, putting electricity out, powering the lights and the heat and the outlets and keeping much of the factory humming along pretty well most of the time.
“The father” is largely invisible. It is off by itself. Far removed from the activity it supports. It is not nearly as noticeable as “marketing” with its slick pictures, flashy commercials, and demonstration products. It doesn’t have the pizzazz of the hip, new “advanced product development” that has whipped up some new miracle of design and engineering. It does not even have the visible invisibility of “catering” that gets to wine-and-dine customers with shiny serving trays, white server’s aprons, and Picasso-artistry hors d’oeuvres. No, “the father” is at its core just a nondescript box. Strong metal shields surround what interesting things there are. The interesting stuff is all inside – and only someone who appreciated design would take joy in it. But not many people do. To most, they observe nothing but a low thrum that shows it is there still operating. It is easy for the grime and dust that accumulates on it to hide what is inside.
“The father” can’t move or relocate. For all of the power it “controls”, the robots that it runs can’t pick it up and move it and they cannot do much to change “the father” – while “the father” can energize lots of change through what it provides, it simply does not possess the power to change itself very much. It doesn’t do “new” things very often. Even worse, occasionally it makes disturbing and unsettling noises when a filter gets plugged or too many circuit breakers have tripped. And occasionally it affects absolutely everything when something inside of it “goes down”. At those times all of the people that usually ignore it suddenly cluster around saying useful things like “I wonder what’s wrong with it?” and “Does anyone know how to fix it?” Wait a bit – hopefully one of the maintenance robots is well-charged and was designed to fix that problem. It has always come back online before. But some day it won’t. Someday something will break that is critical that the robots don’t have spares for.
So give a care some time to “the father”. Even if you don’t understand it. Even if you are not tasked with its upkeep. Even if you don’t think it is particularly reliable or even all that useful. Trust me, that shiny new windmill or solar panel would have issues too. And more of them. The sun doesn’t always shine, the wind doesn’t always blow, but the diesel deliveries show up almost all of the time. As “old school” as “the father” is, it still mostly works. If you want to do something for it, maybe give it a good cleaning of the air filters. Or take a wet rag to it to remove some of the dust. Or grab a screwdriver and tighten something the maintenance robots have missed that is likely to cause a breakdown soon.
Brian Luczywo
November 2014
