I grew up living on spaceships made of words (when I was traveling away from Arda, that is.) My mother used to worry that the weight of my bookshelves would have me waking up in the basement some cold morning.
I wanted SO MUCH to have the kind of access people in the stories had - information at your fingertips, books that could travel with you in bulk, friends all over the universe...
Now, I am sitting in a recliner with my laptop programing the kindle Jim got me for Yule, sharing the process with friends at all planetary points. It's my past that seems unreal to me now. Here's my limerick:
SF fans know the real race for space
was to keep all your books in their place.
Now, when bookshelf space dwindles
we fill up our kindles -
(I still keep my books - just in case)