A Saturday afternoon in September 1982; it is warm and sunny, like the last day of Summer. My Dad drives my younger brother and I, and two of our friends, into town and drops us off near the ABC cinema. We have planned to watch Blade Runner, the new Ridley Scott film that stars Harrison Ford. It isn’t being advertised as sci-fi or action/adventure, instead its billed as a ‘Futuristic Detective Thriller’. This is nearly thirty years ago- film news is based on magazines with production deadlines, there is no internet; we know next to nothing about this film, other than it stars Harrison Ford, it has fx by Douglas Trumbull, music by Vangelis, is directed by Ridley Scott. These are names that can fire the imagination of any sixteen year-old geek. We buy our tickets. The cinema is one of the old picture palaces that in years to come will be closed, replaced by multiplexes; it is old and worn but has a character and soul, its huge empty spaces above us dwarfing us, Screen One a huge echoing theatre of dreams, red-painted plaster with elaborate scroll work, like a huge elaborate cavern. The lights dim. After Pearl & Dean’s commercials, the Warner Bros logo appears. The film’s titles are simple, stark. Vangelis’ music is dark, foreboding, full of electronic menace. This is not like anything I expected. Then with a huge Vangelis boom of drums and thunder, the opening vista of LA 2019 stretches out before me. And I know everything has changed forever.