I remember quite vividly attending the premiere of Star Wars: Episode IV – A New Hope back in 1977.It was screened in one of those grand old cinemas, the kind that seated two thousand souls, majestic halls that scarcely exist today. The queue stretched endlessly, with unfortunate stragglers left outside. One had to arrive early, line up with patience, and wait one’s turn to enter.So much has been lost, for nowadays the cinema has migrated into our very homes. Films and series are consumed at will—on demand, streaming, summoned at the mere press of a button. It was not so then. And truthfully, it was not so very long ago, merely a recent yesterday in the span of history.I recall Star Wars itself with crystalline clarity. The saga endures to this day, scattered across countless platforms, with younger generations convinced it is a creation of their own era. Yet it was a sophisticated mind indeed, back in ’77, that glimpsed the contours of the future, of technology, and dared to shape it upon the screen. A mind, perhaps like mine, still resonating with the profound shock of the 1969 Moon landing—when my generation bore witness to humanity’s first step upon that distant sphere. It was deeply moving for us all. And, not long after, equally moving was the premiere of Star Wars—as electrifying, in its own way, as the unveiling of Jaws, now re-released for a new audience.Returning to Star Wars: the companions of the humans were two peculiar figures. One, a golden humanoid named C-3PO, who spoke in a clipped, mechanical manner. The other, small and squat, like a bedside cabinet upon wheels—R2-D2, whose name to my ear rang rather like “Arthur.”Their speech was strange, indecipherable. Were they imagined in today’s terms, of course, they would converse flawlessly, for artificial intelligence would already dwell within their circuits. The creators of Star Wars could scarcely have foreseen the velocity at which our world would accelerate.And 1977 was, in truth, an astronomical year. In that very September, two probes were launched: Voyager 2 and, a mere fortnight later, Voyager 1. To my astonishment—and that of the scientific community—those probes remain active still, transmitting signals from realms so distant they defy description: one hundred and sixty-six times the span between Earth and the Sun. Imagine that distance, multiplied again and again—there you find them, in the interstellar dark.They travel at a staggering speed. If I were to sit at a football match beneath the night sky, and by some miracle they orbited the Earth, I should see them streak overhead twice during the ninety minutes, such is their swiftness. Sixty-one thousand kilometres an hour—while the Earth’s circumference is but forty thousand. A revolution and a half each hour!What astonishes me most is that this is technology of 1977—conceived in ’69, perhaps born in the fertile imagination of the ’60s. Technology that belongs to my generation.The author is Pablo Mera, or Pablo E.M.G. to the English-speaking world—though a few old friends still call him “Trompo.” He adores Metallica and Oasis, he is still a rugger at heart, blood type A+, and his podcasts can be found across every platform. Pablo published over 12,950 posts upon his blog: http://pablomera.blogspot.com.You may write to him at mailto:[email protected]