Who better than everyone's favorite manic pixie hyperbolic memoirist, David Sedaris, to write about the agony and the ecstasy of Fitbit ownership? No one, considering how well his latest essay in The New Yorker reads as a love note.
Now that Michael Chabon has won a Hugo, we've completed the process of claiming him as a science fiction author. So who's next? Which author, currently considered "mainstream," should dip his or her pen into the protoplasmic inkwell of science fiction?