There was a time when new tech launches felt electric, almost unreal. People skipped work, slept on sidewalks, and cheered software demos. Today, even the biggest announcements barely raise an eyebrow. Somewhere along the way, the magic slipped out.
The moment everything peaked
You can timestamp the high point of tech excitement with eerie precision. January 9, 2007. 9:41 a.m. Pacific time.
That was when Steve Jobs, standing on a stage at Macworld in San Francisco, pulled the original Apple iPhone out of his pocket.
Phones already existed. Touchscreens too. But this thing felt different.
The crowd didn’t just clap. They erupted. When Jobs demonstrated multi-touch scrolling, thousands of adults lost their minds over what was, technically, a gesture. That reaction wasn’t about scrolling. It was about belief.
People believed they were watching the future arrive early.
When tech promised something bigger than itself
Back then, technology carried a kind of moral weight. It wasn’t just faster or sleeker. It was supposed to fix things.
The iPhone looked like proof that progress was finally personal. No flying cars, no moon bases. Just a device that made daily life smoother, smarter, lighter. It felt like science fiction you could actually buy.
Jobs leaned into that comparison often. He openly cited Star Trek as inspiration. The idea that advanced technology could be humane, elegant, and quietly transformative sat at the core of Apple’s storytelling.
And people bought it. Literally and emotionally.
Waiting in line overnight for a phone didn’t feel strange. It felt necessary, almost historic.
Science fiction and the dreams Silicon Valley borrowed
The roots of that magic run deeper than Apple keynotes.
Gene Roddenberry, the mind behind Star Trek, imagined a future where technology erased scarcity, reduced conflict, and allowed humans to focus on growth rather than survival. No ads. No grind. Just exploration.
That vision soaked into generations of engineers.
At the same time, a darker prophet was writing from California too. Philip K. Dick didn’t trust shiny futures. His stories warned that technology could distort reality, flatten identity, and quietly take control while pretending to help.
For a while, Silicon Valley followed Roddenberry more than Dick.
Tech launches reflected that optimism. They weren’t just product reveals. They were cultural events. Statements about where society was headed.
That tone doesn’t land the same anymore.
When progress became incremental and boring
Part of the problem is simple. We got used to it.
After the smartphone revolution, advances came in smaller bites. Better cameras. Thinner bezels. Faster chips. Useful, sure. But hardly jaw-dropping.
You can only be astonished by “the future” once.
When every year brings a slightly improved rectangle, it’s hard to summon awe. Even Apple, the master of presentation, now struggles to make routine updates feel momentous.
People still watch the events. They just don’t feel changed afterward.
No one leaves saying, “Everything is different now.” They say, “Nice upgrade, I guess.”
Trust eroded while products multiplied
Another shift runs deeper than design fatigue. Trust cracked.
The early promise of tech was freedom. Work less. Connect more. Think better. Instead, many people feel watched, nudged, and exhausted.
Social media stopped feeling fun. Notifications became chores. Algorithms felt intrusive rather than helpful.
Phones didn’t free time. They consumed it.
As that realization settled in, enthusiasm cooled. New devices no longer symbolized escape. They looked like another obligation, another thing to manage, update, insure, replace.
Magic doesn’t survive long under that weight.
Launches lost their human drama
There’s also something missing on the stage.
Steve Jobs wasn’t just a presenter. He was a narrator. He framed products as characters in a larger story about creativity, rebellion, and taste. Flawed, controlling, obsessive, yes. But compelling.
Today’s launches are slicker but flatter.
Executives rotate through rehearsed segments. Slides overflow with metrics. Everything is safe. Nothing feels risky. The edges are sanded down.
That polish reassures investors. It rarely excites regular people.
You don’t camp overnight for a quarterly roadmap.
When scarcity disappeared
Early tech felt special because access was limited. A new device meant entry into a smaller club. Owning the latest gadget said something about you.
Now everyone has a powerful smartphone. Multiple ones, actually. The baseline is high.
When advanced tools become ordinary, wonder fades. You stop marveling at what they can do and start noticing what they demand.
Battery anxiety. Subscription creep. Forced updates. Compatibility headaches.
Magic hates friction.
The cost of growing up with technology
There’s also a generational shift at play.
People who were adults in 2007 remember life before constant connectivity. For them, the leap felt dramatic. Liberating.
Younger users grew up inside the system. Smartphones were always there. Social platforms always shaped interaction. The tech didn’t arrive as a revelation. It arrived as infrastructure.
You don’t feel awe toward plumbing. You just get annoyed when it breaks.
That changes how launches land.
Why the excitement hasn’t fully vanished
Still, it’s not gone entirely.
Every now and then, something sparks genuine curiosity. A breakthrough in health tech. A leap in battery science. Occasionally, a product feels like it opens a door rather than repaints a wall.
But those moments are rare. And they face skepticism fast.
People have learned to wait. To see how things are used, misused, monetized. Optimism now comes with conditions.
What the loss of magic really says
Tech launches didn’t lose their magic because people became cynical. They lost it because the promises changed.
The wonder of 2007 wasn’t about glass screens or touch gestures. It was about hope. The feeling that tools were finally catching up to human potential.
Today, tools are everywhere. Hope is harder to find.
And until tech starts offering that again, no amount of stage lighting or cinematic trailers will bring back the lines around the block.
