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"  Danny Hillis, with his giant robot dinosaurs and magical terrain tables, is the first subject of mine who&amp;#039;s ever defied written description. Walking through his Applied Minds lab in Los Angeles earlier this fall, I was stunned by the scope of invention, by the limitlessness behind those ordinary-seeming walls. Any one of his projects would be worth a story, but there were literally hundreds. A 10,000-year clock? A cure for cancer? Giant robot dinosaurs? How was I going to do justice to him and his brain? How was I going to explain to our readers how that kind of mind works? And then I saw them, scattered around his office \u2014 his sketches and doodles and hand-written notes. That&amp;#039;s how, I decided. I sat under the dinosaur and began to draw.  I love drawing. I love the feel of paper with its different weights and textures. I love maps and comics and the sound that a pencil makes. I believe in my heart that there will be an anti-digital revolution someday, that we&amp;#039;ll return to newspapers and printing presses and beautiful hand-bound works of art. I refuse to believe that the last people on earth reading real books will be the blind. I refuse to believe that, for the rest of my life, words will be dependent on batteries and tiny fucking sticks. Which is part of the reason we decided to do my profile of him for this year&amp;#039;s Best and Brightest package by hand. I wanted it to be a defense of paper, to represent the triumph of analog. Of course, unless we&amp;#039;re Danny Hillis, the things we see in our heads don&amp;#039;t always come out the way we hoped they might. When I first pictured the five pages you see reproduced below, I saw myself tearing five perfect pages out of my sketchbook and simply scanning them into the magazine. I wasn&amp;#039;t thinking about the necessities of modern magazine-making, of copy editing and fact-checking and, you know, legibility. Those things meant that each part of the story \u2014 each snippet of text, each illustration, each arrow or circle or square \u2014 had to be done separately. Darhil Crooks, our art director, after looking at me the way people look at puppies that just pissed on the carpet, ended up scanning maybe seventy or eighty of my little sketches and scribbled sentences and began assembling those pieces into a larger whole. Once, I had to draw a single comma on a scrap of tracing paper and file that into the machine. Darhil had to erase the smudges from my pencil. It felt, late at night, something like manual labor. Is that the future of magazines?  Probably not. It&amp;#039;s too much work, for us and for you.  But I hope, at least, that these pages demonstrate the continued possibilities of print. I hope they reflect the limitlessness I saw in Los Angeles. I hope they inspire someone, somewhere, to dust off their Gestetner or their Underwood, to transmit ink onto paper without the aid of a goddamn laser.... READ THE FULL LIST OF 15 GENIUSES WHO GIVE US HOPE RIGHT NOW &amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;gt;        "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.esquire.com/news-politics/a8992/danny-hillis-inventor-1210/>