New ways to work, exercise, see the doctor, watch movies and sanitise every surface in sight will continue to proliferate. So will monthly subscription fees.
7 min
A pandemic that ravaged the world and accelerated the digital transformation of, well, everything? Not even the best of futurists or Magic 8 ball-shaking psychics could have predicted the year that was 2020. And yet while we may have missed the biggest news, our predictions for what would occur in the tech world held up decently. (OK, fine, we didn’t think Quibi would die that quickly.)
Now, 2020 has become the lens through which all our 2021 predictions are glimpsed. As we continue to live in a pandemic-fighting world, innovators will aim tech solutions at our personal and professional lives, from at-home streaming movie debuts to an overdue evolutionary leap of the laptop. But we will also strive to reach a new normal, and you’ll see technology helping us there, too, from new hybrid work practices to high-tech masks. And accompanying each new product or service: yet another monthly subscription fee.
Now that we’ve rung in the new year, here’s what to look for.
Masks, webcams and sanitisers for our bodies… and our gadgets. The pandemic sparked a reliance on things our 2019 selves couldn’t ever have imagined. With marketers keen to capitalize on the new interest (and anxiety), 2021 will likely be full of new gizmos that boldly promise to improve it all.
One key area: better webcams for our constant video calling. Samsung has already announced that its forthcoming Galaxy smartphone, expected in early 2021, will improve video recording and calling. We anticipate laptop makers will do the same and finally ditch their crappy, low-resolution webcams.
Portable versions of UV sanitisers for cleaning your phones and gadgets are on the way to keep in your car or your pocket. Another thing we may eventually never leave home without? High-tech masks. Expect a range of built-in features: Bluetooth and microphones (see Maskfone), a fan-powered wearable air purifier (see LG PuriCare), a mask with a UV LED (see the UV Mask). Look for air-quality sensors, contact-tracing assistance and more.
You may even end up wearing a social-distancing sweater. SimpliSafe, a home-security company, made a version that sounds an alarm when someone comes within 6 feet of you. Intended as a fun prototype, the sweater sold out immediately.
Suddenly, laptops aren’t the most boring gadget in the world. Our reliance on them for at-home work and school spurred demand the category hadn’t seen in years. (“Children, let me tell you about the Great Chromebook Shortage of 2020.”) Then, in November, Apple released a MacBook Air and MacBook Pro that ditched Intel inside for Apple’s own M1 chips. The result? Machines that have never been so quiet and cool, and lasted so long on one charge.
The move from chips based on Intel’s x86 architecture to ones based on lower-powered Arm technology, like the ones inside phones, is setting the entire computing industry on a new course. Lenovo, Acer and Microsoft have begun releasing Windows or Chrome OS laptops with chips from Qualcomm, whose processors power the most popular Android phones. This will only accelerate in the coming year, with nearly every major Windows PC maker working with Qualcomm on laptops and some models even gaining 5G, said Qualcomm President Cristiano Amon.
Apple, which plans to transition its entire Mac lineup to its own processors by 2022, is also expected to release a long-anticipated new iMac, among other things. And it won’t come as a surprise when more tech giants, including Amazon and Microsoft, embrace their own custom chips in everything from laptops to servers to wearables.
Many of this year’s top films are hitting living rooms at the same time as theatres. Yep, that means watching “Dune” opening weekend in your PJs. (Woohoo!)
In April, Universal Pictures made “Trolls World Tour” an online rental as theatres closed. Unexpectedly, it broke digital records, racking up US$100 million through platforms such as Apple TV. Then Disney made a big bet on “Mulan,” launching the title on the company’s Disney+ streaming service for an additional $30 a pop. Following the Christmas release of “Wonder Woman 1984” to all HBO Max subscribers (with no extra fees), WarnerMedia plans to release its entire 2021 slate on the online platform.
Netflix has long adhered to this model, and now Hollywood is catching on, more out of necessity than out of desire. AMC reported attendance is down 85% year over year and Regal Cinemas, the second-largest theatre chain in the U.S., closed all of its locations nationwide.
The director of “Dune,” slated for an HBO Max debut in the fall, wrote a scathing op-ed about how streaming alone can’t sustain the film industry. Yet the studios’ digitally minded parent companies, including Comcast, AT&T and Disney, might disagree, finding themselves in possession of the primary distribution channel for their content—and the valuable proprietary viewer data that comes with it.
When will Apple release a pair of smart glasses? Probably not 2021. And while Google made a big step in this category this summer by acquiring North, a pioneer in projection glasses, it cancelled the second version of North’s glasses as it plots its future. It’s actually Facebook that declared it will launch smart glasses in 2021—and they’ll be Ray Bans.
Facebook Chief Executive Mark Zuckerberg said in September these glasses will be “the next step on the road to augmented reality.” They won’t feature virtual objects that appear to interact with the real world. AR headsets like Microsoft’s HoloLens might deliver an immersive experience, but they’re still expensive and cumbersome.
“Assisted reality” glasses—which project text, images and even video feeds into a person’s field of view—are of more value now, says Brian Ballard, CEO of remote-expertise company Upskill. Businesses have found utility in remote video conferencing that hovers in workers’ field of view, or turn-by-turn directions they don’t have to look down to follow.
At-home health is here to stay. Downloads of health and fitness apps grew by 46% world-wide in the first half of 2020, according to MoEngage, a marketing research firm.
Connected fitness equipment, once considered a pricey extravagance, turned into a no-brainer as gyms closed. Peloton, which makes smart spin bikes and treadmills, said it tripled its revenue in the quarter ending in September. Lululemon Athletica acquired Mirror, a wall-mounted panel that streams fitness classes, in June.
Doctor checkups are changing, too. Hospitals used phone, interactive video and messaging to minimise contact with coronavirus patients, after fast-tracking new telemedicine systems. In March, federal authorities loosened health privacy regulation to allow health-care providers to facilitate visits over FaceTime, Facebook Messenger, Zoom or Skype.
PlushCare, a virtual primary care provider, saw a 460% increase in patient signups this year. Ryan McQuaid, the company’s CEO, doesn’t think the bump is a short-term response to a crisis, citing the time-consuming nature of in-person visits. “On average, Americans spend over 20 minutes in the waiting room alone,” he said.
The pandemic packed 10 years of consumer e-commerce adoption into a single quarter, and forced every company that wasn’t Amazon—especially those with large retail footprints—to scramble to offer consumers new and better ways to shop from home.
Target saw an explosion in kerbside pickup from online orders, while warehouse retailer Costco reported unprecedented growth in e-commerce. Walmart launched a Prime-like membership program called Walmart+, and rapidly added features to keep up the competition. (Walmart recently eliminated order minimums and shipping fees on Walmart.com orders, and provides no-fee delivery on grocery carts totalling US$35 or more.) Shopify, which powers payments for many small businesses online, expanded its own network of fulfilment centres so those businesses could get goods to customers more quickly and efficiently, without turning to Amazon.
Now that fast, free shipping is table stakes and retailers recognize they won’t see the foot traffic they counted on pre-pandemic, consumers finally get an online version of an old retail staple: comparison shopping. In 2021, Amazon’s value proposition—that if it isn’t always the least expensive way to shop, it’s at least the most convenient—will be tested. Meanwhile, its market power—along with Google’s, Facebook’s and Apple’s—will continue to be the focus of regulatory scrutiny.
Everything now has some sort of subscription attached to it. Your 600 video streaming apps, your grocery-delivery service, your cloud storage, certainly, but also your workout bike? Your to-do list app? Your dog food? Everything as a Service (EaaS), as we like to call it, is only going to continue. More things you once bought as a one-time payment will be offered instead as a recurring payment. And expect new sorts of service-focused offerings, too—especially tied to your hardware purchases. If Apple’s Fitness+—a new digital workout subscription that requires an Apple Watch—is successful, Apple and other hardware makers will likely attach more services to their products.
Those subscriptions you’re already paying for will continue to rise. Companies argue you need to pay more so they can add more content and features. In June, YouTube TV raised its cable-like bundle by US$15. In October, Netflix raised its most popular streaming plan from US$12.99 to US$13.99. In November, Google eliminated its free Google Photos storage tier. And Disney announced that in March, the monthly price of Disney+ will go from $6.99 to $7.99.
While remote work has many advantages, building trust between employees isn’t one of them. Online, there is no water cooler, no nearby coffee shop for informal brainstorms, no place to grab a drink after work. But companies whose employees worked remotely long before the pandemic already had a solution: the off-site retreat.
Buffer, a fully remote company, gets its entire, globe-spanning team together at least once a year. Dozens of other companies whose employees work mostly or entirely at home do the same thing, which has led to a cottage industry of firms that will plan these retreats for you.
One reason companies have embraced remote work is that it makes employees happier, but another is that it saves companies money on office space. In 2021, expect to see many of the millions of employees who have permanently shifted to remote or hybrid work piling into party buses, doing group yoga and seeking inner peace in the presence of their bosses—for far less than the cost of the rent on the offices they left behind.
Look, electric vehicles are cool, but few bear any resemblance to good old Detroit steel. That changes in 2021 with the anticipated arrival of some green beasts.
This summer, startup Rivian expects to ship the already-sold-out launch editions of its first-generation R1T pickup and R1S SUV, machines with ranges of over 300 miles and price tags starting around $70,000.
Then there’s the GMC Hummer EV pickup, due in the fall from General Motors. Reservations are already full for the $112,595-and-up Edition 1, which is billed to have a range of over 350 miles and can do zero-to-60 in about 3 seconds. Lower-tier trims will be available in subsequent years, though true to form, the prices will stay on the big side.
Ford expects to have its own battery-powered monster, the F-150 Electric, on sale in mid-2022. Back in pre-pandemic times, the company filmed a prototype towing over a million pounds. And sometime in late 2021 or early 2022, we might even see Tesla’s Cybertruck.
Those may be the biggest consumer vehicles coming to market, but they’re not the only ones working to up the EV’s average size. This past year brought battery-powered SUVs from the likes of Toyota, Audi and Jaguar, and the trend will continue: In 2021, more than half of the battery-electric and plug-in hybrid options on the U.S. market will be SUVs—82 models total, as opposed to 66 passenger-car models, according to forecasts by AlixPartners, a global consulting firm.
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The Australian leather house has opened an immersive four-day pop-up in Manhattan, unveiling its Bloom Collection and redefining what a product launch can look like.
Following the successful launch of its Palais Collection, MAISON de SABRÉ has unveiled a new modular handbag system offering more than 720 styling combinations.
Randy Boyagoda’s new novel, “Lords of Serendipity,” delivers a biting satire of cheating, politics and dysfunction across modern universities.
5 min
Administrative cowardice. Rampant cheating. The soaking and scamming of undergrads and grad students. Performative wokeism. Intensifying competition for international tuition dollars from an expansive China.
These are either the latest dire headlines about American higher ed or the myriad subplots of “Lords of Serendipity,” an ambitious new novel by Randy Boyagoda. Unlike most campus fiction, its scope extends well beyond the cloister of the liberal arts classroom to whammy the entire university system, from its financial model to its function within a globalized economy. Along the way, it skewers its lightning-rod targets with a precision too sharp to be considered entirely fictional.
That its author is not only well-versed in satire, having written four other novels in the genre, but is also a professor of English at the University of Toronto and an experienced college administrator, further blurs the lines between comic fiction and brutal fact. It’s the kind of no-holds-barred book only a consummate insider would know to write—but only one who is also conveniently outside the American university system could get away with writing.
“This is someone who’s got the inside dope on what can go on at universities, especially with international students, and what kind of con games are going on,” said Margaret Atwood, a friend and fellow Torontonian.
The novel, like Boyagoda himself, is often very funny—even as the dilemmas its characters face read as tragedy. Its cast includes the bickering members of a Sri Lankan hotel cleaner’s family, insecure American freshmen, dead-end third-tier college professors and their highflying Ivy League counterparts and dispirited university functionaries. An old-fashioned Dickensian tale, it sweeps across continents and campuses, from a classic liberal-arts college to a stand-in for Harvard University to an urban technical school to the dilapidated buildings of a state-run university in Sri Lanka.
“I’m a joyful person,” Boyagoda said in an interview, though he prefers to see his outlook on academia as “hopeful” rather than optimistic. He smiles and laughs frequently. He bikes everywhere. He derives energy from his students and from his four daughters, ages 14 to 20. They help him and his American wife, Anna, also an educator, care for Boyagoda’s father, an immigrant from Sri Lanka who has dementia and lives with the family.
The germ of the novel came to Boyagoda during the pandemic, when he was serving as a vice-dean. An urban legend was circulating about a statistics grad student selling passing grades to international students. The cheating scheme itself may well have been apocryphal, but it felt tantalizingly plausible.
“As a novelist, it stayed with me,” Boyagoda said. “Who would sell grades for a stats course? Why would someone buy grades? What’s motivating them? Why wouldn’t the university be doing something about it?” What he didn’t want to do, he explained, was write “another novel about a creative writing professor and his drama with students.”
In addition to writing novels—the first of which was a finalist for Canada’s prestigious Giller Prize; he’s written eight books in total—Boyagoda teaches literature full-time. For his students next semester, kids raised in a purportedly “post-literature era,” he’s assigning three 700-page novels, he noted mischievously, books by George Eliot, Ralph Ellison and Kiran Desai.
On RateMyProfessors, students remark on Boyagoda’s heavy assignments, tough grading and distaste for cellphones, but also hail his “comedy.” When alerted to these reviews, Boyagoda laughed. “Guilty as charged,” he said.
“Randy’s one of those people in academia who is very well educated but doesn’t have an ounce of superiority about him,” said John Irving, who frequently guest lectures in Boyagoda’s classroom. “It’s amazing to see how willing students are to talk in his classrooms, how little afraid they feel of being mocked or put down—he gets complete candor out of them.”
Negotiating competing interests seems to come naturally to him. Like many college campuses, after the Oct. 7 Hamas attack on Israel, the University of Toronto was embroiled in protests, encampments and discord; part of the school’s response was to convene a working group on civil discourse. Boyagoda was put in charge, serving for two years. It’s the kind of thankless task many professors would flee from, but Boyagoda relished the prospect and thinks the group, which is ongoing, made progress.
He has since pivoted to another formidable academic concern: the waning prestige of the humanities. In July, Boyagoda became the director of the Jackman Humanities Institute and special advisor on the humanities to the dean of arts and science. This fall, he is starting a series of gatherings he calls the Dead Book Club. (Dead writers feature heavily among his favorites: St. Augustine, Dante, William Faulkner, Evelyn Waugh, Saul Bellow.)
“The goal is to encourage students to read for its own sake and have conversation for its own sake,” Boyagoda said. “The importance of the humanities will be revealed to those who participate.”
“Lords of Serendipity,” which publishes next week, reflects Boyagoda’s commitment to the pursuit of knowledge: “I’m supposed to say I learn more from my students than they do from me, but no,” Boyagoda said. “I enjoy sharing my excitement and joy about literature and ideas. There are these moments when you are teaching and you can see someone’s face change because they didn’t know something and then they did. That moment when you’re actually watch someone enlarge themselves is deeply satisfying.”
In literary circles, Boyagoda is often referred to as a Catholic novelist, a description he embraces. “A novelist willing to give shape and voice to contemporary religious experience is needed,” Boyagoda said. “I understand myself as a Catholic novelist, provided that I’m not only a Catholic novelist, I’m also a South Asian novelist and I’m a Canadian novelist. I don’t want to be captive to one label.”
His characters, he said, are subjected to what he calls “Graham Greene character situations.”
“They are trying to do good in a fallen world and realize the most they can do is less harm than someone else would do in that same role,” he explained. “They have to accept they are complicit in something that provides some good thing to others. It’s a very Graham Greene way of thinking about sacrifice.”
The campus green they inhabit is a febrile zone in which lofty ideals and cynicism regularly collide. It’s a place where a traditional holiday college celebration is now an occasion for political protest. Kids freely police one another inside and out of the classroom with social media their constant, ready weapon of choice. International students, knowing their family’s financial futures hinge on their degrees, operate in terror of failure and deportation.
Early readers of the book include Gary Shteyngart and Junot Diaz, both of whom have taught at universities and written comic novels. They each contacted Boyagoda midway through to say, in essence, “You nailed it.”
As biting as “Lords of Serendipity” can be, Boyagoda’s faith in higher education remains undaunted.
“It’s absurd that we live in societies that make the decision to take people between the ages of 18 and 22, when they are most physically capable of contributing to our nations and communities, and tell them, ‘Go away for four years, and read and learn and have conversations,’” he said. “I want students to be aware of what an incredible privilege that is.”
Corrections & Amplifications
Randy Boyagoda is a special advisor on the humanities to the dean of arts and science at the University of Toronto. An earlier version of this article incorrectly said he is a special adviser to the dean of humanities. (Corrected on Sept. 2)
