"Give me a place to stand," Archimedes is reputed to have said when he discovered the lever, "and I will move the Earth."

Well, who wanted it moved in the first place?

Look -- I'm no Luddite, and I don't really think there are too many BCS members who would have sided with yhe folks who were smashing the new-fangled textile machines back in the 19th century. My study literally could not have existed 10 years ago; I've got two computers staring me in the face as I write this, shelves of software over yonder, a Compact Disc player over back over my right shoulder and more discs than I would have bought if I had been rational about it. On my left is a telephone hooked into a key system that is more intelligent than most phone company switches not too long ago.

The point is, I like technology. I use it and play with it liberally, and I am firmly convinced that it improves my life. If it doesn't mean jogging too much, I may even put my name in with NASA to be the First Journalist In Space.

But someone please save me from some of the things people are trying to sell me.

I suppose it all really did start with Archimedes. The lever's a great thing -- couldn't get up in the morning without one. But playing with the Earth's orbit makes me a little nervous, whether the threat comes from levers, pulleys or nukes.

Frankly, I don't think Archimedes really had a whole lot to do with that quote. He was in Research & Development. It was probably his publicist, Delirium, who was looking for the good angle.

"Hey, Archy, I love the gadget, but what's the thing do?"

"Well, you see, Delirium, if I put a great weight on top of the board on this end, and place a small rock underneath the board a little ways back, I can lift the weight by applying a lot less force."

"That's great, Archy. Really it is. I'm excited about the whole concept. But no one's gonna stay awake through your spiel, y'know. And that demo's just awful."

"Awful? But it shows the technology!"

"That's another problem. How do you expect to make any money off this thing? It works with any long piece of wood, right?"

"Right."

"OK, that's gonna make it tough to patent, so we probably shouldn't even show the thing in public. That means we'll have to punch up that speech of yours."

"Punch it up?"

"Right," Delirium said, pacing around the lab. "First thing, we'll tell people that not everything will work with your lever. Then we'll certify stuff as being compatible at the board level."

"OK," said Archimedes, doubtfully.

"Now about this moving rocks business. Everyone moves rocks. That's good. But you see, they don't need any gadget to move rocks. What's the trouble? You got a rock, you pick it up and move it. No problem, right?"

"But Delirium, this makes it easier."

"Archy, Archy, Archy. Ease of use may sell in Athens, but it'll never cut it in Sparta. We need an event -- something so impressive that everyone will pay attention." Delirium whirled around. "What's the biggest rock you can think of?" he demanded.

"I dunno," Archimedes said. "The Earth's a pretty big rock. Flat, of course, but it's big." The impact of what his publicist was saying struck the scientist. "Wait a minute. You're going to tell people I can move the Earth around? You must be nuts! Do you have any idea how big a lever I'd need for that?"

"So what? We're not planning to show them the product, remember? If you had a big enough lever, and if you had a place to stand, you theoretically could do it, couldn't you?"

"Well, I guess so," Archimedes said slowly. "Kinda hate to say something like that, though. It's the sort of thing people remember for a while."

Of course, they held the news conference and eventually shipped the product. It was probably late, but that didn't bother nearly so many people back then. As it was, Archimedes had a devil of a time holding on the patent rights and eventually lost them.

Everything turned out fine for Delirium. The lever announcement was a real coup, and he followed it a couple of years later with something about displacement -- you probably remember that one.

The sons and daughters of Delirium have done pretty well for themselves, too. I think of them every so often -- when I hear about quadraphonic sound, watches you need both hands to read, word processing packages that make you put sticky labels on a computer's keyboard, communications packages that are actively user-hostile, solar-powered office calculators, other calculators with four functions and factorials but no memory, and computers that run every program but the ones you really need.

In every case, if you dig back far enough, there is a nugget of a good idea lurking somewhere. There's a fair stretch between the idea, the implementation and the sale, and all too often the idea gets lost in the hubbub.

Me? I like technology. I think it's neat. I also like the Earth sitting just where it is, thank you very much.