Steven Lyle Jordan's Blog, page 8

Doing the Sisko

In the Star Trek: Deep Space Nine episode “In the Pale Moonlight,” Captain Ben Sisko records a log post describing his involvement in a plan to draw the Romulans into the war with the Dominion by very underhanded and morally questionable means.  And after he’s finished describing his sins to the log recorder (and the audience), he pauses… then orders the log erased, so no one else will learn of his misdeeds.  Many science fiction fans refer to this act as “doing the Sisko,” erasing any record of something a person is ashamed of.

I can now say I’ve done the Sisko: I wrote a post that described how I’m feeling these days, about my favorite genre, about its fans, about my personal life, my professional life, which quickly bled into areas of politics, environment, community and social systems… let’s just say, I went into healthy detail.

And then, realizing not only how bad all of that confession made me look, but how little anyone really wanted to hear it… I did the Sisko.  And now I’m writing a post about writing a post.

Yeah, I don’t feel like burdening anyone with all the things bothering me right now… and I know that no one really wants to know about it anyway.  I’ll just say I had reasons for being relatively quiet over the past few weeks, and leave it at that.  Will I stay quiet for a while longer?  Yes.  For how long?  I don’t know.  I’ll get back to you.  Unless I don’t.  But since I don’t expect more than three people to even notice… and fewer than that to care… you know, whatev.  I’ll see you when I see you.

End log.

How about a serious SF movie series?

[image error]According to behind-the-scenes footage from Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Anthony Mackie (who played Sam Wilson, aka the Falcon) was in the habit of finishing his scenes, especially the wild and stunt-ridden more difficult scenes to film, with his own version of an affirmation: He’d call out, “Cut the check!” to indicate that they’d nailed another scene and everyone had earned their pay.  After seeing Avengers: Endgame, the words that come to my mind are: Cut the check.  Cut all the checks.  Because there is no question Marvel has absolutely nailed its decade-long series of 23 movies devoted to the Avengers et al.

A lot of franchises have sought to achieve what Marvel has accomplished over the past decade, in terms of consistent quality, popularity and financial success; yet it’s safe to say that none of them have matched Marvel, and only a few have come close in one category, or maybe two, but not all three.  It’s a singular triumph, to be sure.  So the question, now that Marvel’s Avengers-based run is over, becomes: Could another movie franchise duplicate its success?

I’m not actually thinking of any of the existing movie franchises, of which there are too many to list here (well, I could list them, but I had a big lunch, and I’m feeling lazy right now).  I’m thinking about what I’d like to see: A franchise based on serious science fiction content, so well-written, well-acted and well-produced that they are able to build a multi-movie world (or, ahem, universe if you must) and tell a far-reaching and highly entertaining story over a decade’s time.

[image error]For examples, there are certainly some possibilities in the SF literature world, but seriously, too many to mention; from Clarke’s Rama series, Steele’s Coyote Universe, Carver’s Chaos Chronicles, and lordy, so many more in-between, providing overarching epics worthy of movie treatment.

For maybe a better comparison, we can look to television… though there’s not many appropriate shows to look at there.  You can consider Star Trek, clearly the most successful Sci-Fi series of shows on television… though in a lot of ways it’s not as serious an SF show as I’d like, and it’s never been a one-overarching-story series.  There is also Babylon 5, arguably closer to serious science fiction than Star Trek and written around one overarching story.  And probably the best example so far would be The Expanse, a highly realistic science fiction show (except for a single element, the alien life-form from outside our Solar System that seems to defy the very laws of physics) devoted to a single overarching storyline.

Looking at these bones allows us to extrapolate into a potential multi-movie series: The series could be based in the Solar System or beyond, and centered around groups of people in various locations in that shared universe.  Although each of the first movies would be self-contained, there would be an underlying plot element that would link them together somehow, preferably to culminate in a story that would bring all of the groups together, or at least have them working together, to accomplish a shared goal.  This plot element needs to be significant, with consequences large enough to impact major populations, future human development, or even humanity itself, to span the distances between planets or even star systems… but we’re talking about the science fiction genre, that’s not that far-fetched.

[image error]I know what I don’t want to see is the hackneyed old galactic conquest storyline that has plagued science fiction since Buck Rogers; I feel we’re well past ready to move beyond the fears spurred by the First World War and look to threats that don’t necessarily involve slaughtering each other for politics, territory or beliefs.  Instead, encountering exotic and natural phenomena so alien and far-reaching as to threaten human efforts to explore and expand into the cosmos, would be great; it could take the form of alien life, but it could also be some other physical phenomena never before encountered by Man; and maybe having it be triggered by human contact, starting the chain of story events, would be ideal.

Most importantly, I’d like to see a series that embraced real science and tried not to foray too far into fantasy elements that were invented solely to simplify stories or save money on budgets (warp drive and transporters, I’m looking at you).  I firmly believe there are plenty of sources for great drama, conflict, pathos and excitement without such tools.

Are we likely to see a multi-movie series like that, anytime soon?  I can’t imagine how, considering the only thing movie producers think science fiction is good for are the same imperialistic-conquest-and-resistance stories typified by Star Wars, or for intellectual exercises suited only for potential entries in the next year’s award ceremonies.  And audiences only shell out the kind of big money studios seek for action-adventure series.  Yes, we’re much more likely to see more movies like Star Wars, Harry Potter or The Hunger Games, or perhaps scads more superhero fare, than we are to see a series of serious science fiction movies.

Maybe television or streaming services, with their different production and profit formulas, are the answer; perhaps individual stories broken up into multiple mini-series, each mini-series combined over time into a far-reaching saga, might do the trick.  Speaking again of Marvel, this is about what they did on Netflix with their Daredevil, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage and Iron Fist series, all combined into The Defenders to tie up their individual stories.  Or maybe there’s some hitherto-untried combination of movies, television and streaming, tying the saga together across multiple media, that will be the answer.

Either way, it makes for an interesting intellectual exercise… I even have some ideas ready for development.  But nothing for which, I suppose, I expect anyone to cut a check.

My favorite Marvel movie moments

IO9’s writers recently shared their 15 favorite moments of 22 Marvel movies (starting with Iron Man and culminating with Avengers: Infinity War, so as not to spoiler Avengers: Endgame).  They picked some good moments, all right… but I realized I had some very different favorites.

[image error]My faves were moments that elicited laughter, awe or chills from me… that make me think of this series of movies as one of the most incredible entertainment experiences of my adult life.  And they are all encapsulated by the E-E—B-A notes of the Avengers theme which, every time I hear them, cause a stir in my heart and a catch in my breath that is matched by only one other cinematic moment: The reveal of the refit Enterprise in Star Trek: The Motion Picture. (>snifyou’re crying…)

So, without further ado, here are my favorite Marvel movie moments:

Iron Man’s first mission to save Gomira, followed by evading fighters, saving a pilot and finally being caught removing his armor by Pepper.
Steve Rogers, presumed dead, comes walking up the hill followed by a parade of freed POWs.  As he’s greeted by an adoring Peggy Carter, his pal Bucky Barnes yells out: “Hey!  Let’s hear it for Captain America!”
Thor, having proven his worthiness by sacrificing himself for his friends, is saved when Mjolnir breaks out of its place on the ground and streaks into his fist.
The Helicarrier rises out of the water.  Steve Rogers hands Nick Fury $10 to settle a bet.
Captain America stands up to, and repels, Thor’s hammer.  “Are we done here?”
Bruce Banner tells Captain America: “That’s my secret, Cap.  I’m always angry.”  Then instantly morphs into the Hulk and clobbers an alien flying monster with one punch.
Iron Man catches an ICBM on the fly, and flies it through a wormhole.
Hulk catches a plummeting Iron Man.
Star Lord dances to “Come and Get Your Love.”
The Guardians of the Galaxy, standing together, withstand the incredible energy of the Power Stone.
When deciding whether to do something good or something bad, Star Lord decides: “Bit of both!” and flies off to the tune of “I Want You Back.”
Captain America kicks ass in an elevator.
Agent Sitwell is pushed off a rooftop… and returns in the arms of Sam Wilson wearing his flying pack.
Steve Rogers wakes in a hospital bed and whispers to a nearby Sam Wilson: “On your left.”
Captain America and Bucky fight off police in an apartment building, Cap protecting Bucky from the police, and the police from Bucky, at the same time.
Ant-Man unexpectedly turns the tide of a superhero battle by becoming Giant-Man.
Captain America and Spider-Man fight. “You got heart, kid,” Cap says.  “Where you from?”  “Queens,” replies Spider-Man.  Cap smiles.  “Brooklyn,” he says.
Captain America and Bucky work together to fight an enraged Iron Man in a Soviet bunker.
W’Kabi charges Black Panther’s troops on his war-rhino… which comes to a sudden stop when confronted by Okoye, his ex-wife, and licks her face.
Captain America appears in the train station to save Wanda and the Vision from Thanos’ fighters.
Thor appears on the field of battle in Wakanda, his lightning and Stormbreaker axe turning the tide of battle against Thanos’ troops.
Ant-Man is trapped in the quantum realm when Thanos’ snap wipes out his friends.

Okay, it’s a lot of favorite moments.  But hey, out of 22 incredible movies, what do you expect?  And so many of these moments are beautifully capped off by the events in Avengers: Endgame, bringing this saga to a close.

And if anyone out there reads this, I’d love to hear about your favorite Marvel movie moments.

A panelist’s lament

My last post, about my (ahem) appearance at Escape Velocity, just happened to coincide with this year’s AwesomeCon, another convention at which I appeared on a panel (I remember the subject of that one: Are Heroes Getting Smaller?).  This year I didn’t get the chance to attend AwesomeCon, but depending on the breaks, I may attend Escape Velocity this Memorial Day weekend.  But I can say that, whether I attend or not, I’ve become soured to the experience of being on panels, and don’t plan on doing so again.

Mind you, this isn’t because I had a particularly bad time on the panels.  In fact, I rarely get the chance to talk to crowds of people who actually want to hear what I have to say… and in both convention instances (and a few business-oriented presentations I’ve given), I’ve enjoyed my experience talking to the audience, answering questions and generally feeling (for an hour, at least) like I’m an authority on something.

But beyond that experience, everything leading up to it and following it tend to make me feel small and worthless; and I derive absolutely no benefit—not social, intellectual or financial—from the experience.

Okay, I understand that conventions exist to make money off of enthusiasts of whatever their subject… even those that have absolutely no products for sale at the convention, but make their money off retailers renting space to show off their products, like movie companies showing off their upcoming films.  Science fiction conventions also tend to have products for sale at the venue, and the convention profits off of renting space to those retailers.

The other popular thing to do at conventions is to watch people talk about things they know something about that interests attendees.  Sometimes it’s celebrities… who mostly talk about themselves, the roles they’ve played or the books they’ve written.  Often, it’s an expert in some field or someone who had a unique experience, who imparts their knowledge to the audience.

And sometimes it’s people like me, who show an interest in a particular topic, volunteer to speak on it, and are welcomed by the con as a panelist.  Both of my appearances, at AwesomeCon and at Escape Velocity, were like this; though, at Escape Velocity, the idea for the panel was my own.  Both cons were nice enough to give me free admission in exchange for appearing in a panel (AwesomeCon gave me free admission for just the day I was paneling).  When I arrived, I found a table where I was given a special badge, some instructions about showing up for the panel, and left to my own devices.

Which sounds cool, I’ll admit.  I’d hoped to meet some of my speaking peers, maybe strike up some relationships that could lead to promotion and cross-promotion, and even outright friendships.  But when I sought out con organizers, they were nowhere to be found or too busy to speak; and other presenters were either not present, or in crowds of people that I, introvert that I am, was always hesitant to penetrate.

My panel at AwesomeCon was with two other writers, both friendly and knowledgeable… and at the end of the panel, after I spoke to a few attendees and thanked them for coming, saw that the other writers had already departed.  I never saw them again, nor did I ever actually meet the person who’d organized the panel or my appearance.  I had better contact at Escape Velocity with my organizer, but not with any other presenters or celebrities, as they were always surrounded by others.  I went home from both, unnoticed and unthanked, feeling like another attendee with nothing to show for it but a different-colored badge.

Afterward, I thought it would have been nice if the organizers of either con had sent me a thank-you letter or email, acknowledging my effort and assuring me I’d made some small contribution to the success of the con, etc, etc.  I got crickets.  And when the next year’s con came around, no one got in touch with me to see if I might want to present, be a panelist, help with snacks, anything.

And of course, that effort at the con didn’t help my book sales.  At all.  As a promotional tool, let’s face it, I might as well have stood around with a message board over my head, for all the good that did.

I guess what I’m saying is that I felt the experience of paneling on a con didn’t feel worthwhile, or even appreciated, for me as a non-celebrity writer.  And afterward, I just sat around feeling like I’d made a fool of myself going through all that trouble for nothing.  (Oh, wait: I got in for free.  I guess that’s something.)

Now, none of this means I won’t ever attend a convention.  I like cons, they can be fun, I get to see cool things, buy interesting and hard-to-find swag, and maybe even dress up for it.  Maybe one of these days, I’ll set up a booth to sell my books outright.  But be a panelist?  For me, it’s clearly not worth it.

The presentation that… maybe… wasn’t?

[image error]I had it on reliable authority that I appeared as a panelist at Escape Velocity, the convention for the Museum of Science Fiction, in 2018.  Well, actually… that I appeared as the panel, as no one else wanted to join me on stage to discuss the idea I’d pitched to MOSF, and that they’d agreed to let me present.

I’m being vague here, because… well, the other day I realized that I couldn’t even remember what I had spoken on.  At which point, I started to doubt that I’d actually even been there… that it was just a bad dream, you know, show up for a presentation, no one shows up to work with me, and I’m all alone on stage?  And as the recovering introvert I am, that’s high-grade nightmare fuel, right there.  Was I naked, too?  Lost my voice?  Laughed off the stage?

[image error]

Well, I assured myself that it had actually happened… and that the experience hadn’t been a total bomb, as people showed up, they engaged me in the talk, asked great questions, and I even got an approving nod from the guy who was sitting in and presenting after me.

So how could I have actually forgotten what I spoke about?  Maybe I really had been at least slightly traumatized by the experience—not to mention the fact that my public presentation apparently moved the needle on my book sales not a micron afterward—and my mind had decided to selectively forget the whole thing and semi-convince me that I’d just imagined it all.

[image error]Fortunately, I’m also quite anal.  So, after a quick check of my tablet, I found my old notes for the presentation, entitled, Science Fiction for the 21st Century.  (Oh, yeah, the tiny voice says in the back of my mind…)  In which I argued that science fiction, having its most prolific period in the 20th century, naturally covered topics of concern in the 20th century, like computers and robotics, the ecology, overpopulation, immersive entertainment, space colonization, other life, how we should treat them, and how we hope they’ll treat us.

[image error]

But as we near the end of the second decade of the 21st century, we should be looking forward to SF that will concern itself with 21st century topics, which promise to be very different than the issues of the 20th; like, for instance, global warming/climate change, racial/cultural redistribution, mass extinctions, robot/human coexistence, computer-controlled society, CRISPR-based human & animal augmentation, medical experimentation/new animals, Living on other planets/terraforming, leaving Earth behind, changing social patterns (sex, age, family related) and Universal Basic Income.

I was going to try to make the case for my argument—again—but instead, I’m just going to post my original notes here, from which I based my presentation.  I only had an hour, so I didn’t actually cover everything in these notes, but I got through a fair amount.  Feel free to examine my points and comment or question anything here.  Or just nod politely and leave the room when it’s over, as most of my audience did.  Y’know, whatever.

Science Fiction for the 21st Century

Science fiction is a really fun genre… we all know that.  And lately, we’ve had plenty of fun from Star Trek movies, Star Wars movies, superhero movies, giant robot movies, etc. etc.

But that’s not ALL that science fiction is about. I mean, nothing against fun SF… but I’d argue that it’s not even its best part.

In an article for The Conversation, Gavin Miller recently wrote: “Above all, science fiction uses make believe futures to show our own world in a cleverly distorted way. This allows us to see it afresh – as if our own culture were that of a foreign land – forcing us to ask uncomfortable questions about what we take as natural, right, inevitable.”

Miller gets that science fiction is a genre that can make us think about our future, the direction that our science, technology and civilization is taking us.  We can look at it and say, “Well, if this is happening now, or will happen tomorrow, where is it gonna take us next?”

That’s one reason science fiction is also called Speculative Fiction.  And it’s the most important part of science fiction, because it can directly impact real life.  We can learn lessons from science fiction that can affect how we live our lives, write our laws and guide our development and use of technology.

In the 20th century, most of science fiction, in all media, were about these important concepts.  We looked at things like computers and robotics, the ecology, overpopulation, immersive entertainment, space colonization, other life, how we should treat them, and how we hope they’ll treat us.  And we used them to shape today’s world.

Today, what I’ll loosely call the 21st century, we’re seeing a shift in balance.  Most of the important concepts in SF are being presented in books.  Makes sense… books have a lot more room to develop those important concepts, really study them, to give readers a lot to think about.

Today’s TV and movies… not so much.  TV shows tend to have to respond to ratings, and audiences clearly prefer lighter content.  And movies… they’re only 2-3 hours long!  That’s an awful small space to fit heady concepts into.

But it’s important that we see more modern concepts in TV and movies, and incidentally, online sources like YouTube and other web channels… especially because they have become the dominant way for modern audiences to get their science fiction (sorry, books), and we want modern audiences to be exposed to more than just the fun side of SF.

We have had some notable examples of SF in TV and movies that have been both fun and intelligent over the years, proving they don’t have to be mutually exclusive.  Probably the best example from the 20th century would be Star Trek.

Trek was a fun show, for sure… but it also dealt with issues like diversity and inclusion, racism, overpopulation, warfare, law, politics, cultural differences and Western expansionism.  We saw the first multicultural bridge crew… we saw the first interracial kiss on network TV!  We also saw technological marvels that were studied by real organizations like NASA.  And many say we wouldn’t have the cellphones we use today if it weren’t for Star Trek’s communicators and tricorders.

Other shows stand out, like The Twilight Zone, which also had a lot to teach us about most of the issues Star Trek covered.  The Prisoner, which showed us a society where individuals have become numbers, and are constantly watched and controlled by their leaders.

There have been lots of movies, two of which were featured here this weekend, 2001 and Planet of the Apes, and both of which touch mostly on our evolution and incidentally our use of technology.  There’s Soylent Green, a cautionary tale of overpopulation and the ruination of our environment.  Silent Running, about the last of our planet’s ecosystems being abandoned.  ZPG, about an overpopulated world that restricts childbirth.  And many more.

Aspects of these shows have become iconic in our society, part of every discussion about where we’re going as a society and a planet.

So, where are the modern TV and movies, set to keep us thinking?  Well, there have been some.

Star Trek, of course, has continued on into the 21st century, and has given us more of the same important concepts, as well as more modern issues.  For instance, Trek on TV has excelled in showing us the impact of modern warfare, terrorism, the issues faced by refugees, veterans and survivors of warfare.

In a similar vein was the reboot of Battlestar Galactica.  It’s central premise was no less than genocide and species survival, with a side of terrorism and religious conflict.  And we can’t forget the issue of whether robots had their own humanity.

Person of Interest: About a government system that was watching all of us, violating our privacy, predicting our actions and trying to control us.

And how many Clone Club members are here?  Orphan Black wasn’t just about clones; it was about corporate entities doing their own medical experimentation on unknowing subjects for their own profit.

Is anyone looking forward to Humans?  More importantly, can you believe we’re still looking at slavery in our modern science fiction?  Yes, in the 21st century, racism and slavery are still a thing.

We know the world isn’t perfect.  But sometimes it’s hard to see the issues clearly, or imagine solutions that we can pursue.  The shows I just mentioned, and a few others, are helping to make those modern issues clear, and to present possible solutions that we can try to apply to our future.  They will be the iconic shows that we’ll look back to as we try to shape our lives.

Okay, now I’d like to give you some examples of the things intelligent SF can help us examine. Let’s see how many I can go through…

Robots

Industrial Revolution replacements for human workers
grew to be icons for replacing humans at everything
TODAY: AI is the thing, replacing populations of workers in mental labor
mass data collection, surveillance, prediction, rule-making, autopiloting
Person of Interest, IBM Watson

War

Alien invasions parodying colonialism/feudalism/ totalitarianism
almost exclusively underdog stories
caters to our worst fears (Childhood’s End to V; Terminator)
automated warfare
TODAY: Terrorism, aid, refugees, cooperation
drone-based warfare

Nature

pollution: bad air, water
dying animals, plants
typical: Soylent Green, Silent Running
TODAY: Global warming
extinctions have wide repercussions
evolving/mutating nature
planetary collapse of nature

Exploration

Star Trek, Forbidden Planet: flying to other planets like ships plying the Pacific
planets were basically Earthlike, ripe for manifest destiny
strange aliens standing in for new people and strange cultures, generally seen as below us unless proven otherwise
alternate dimensions, time travel
TODAY: seeking planets to ultimately terraform and settle, but not much else
settlers that follow the explorers (Firefly, The Expanse)
significantly alien life (Andromeda Strain, Solaris, The Expanse)

Medical Advances

even Star Trek never cured the common cold
humans and animals largely unchanged in the future
Brave New World, Gattaca: “test tube” babies, mostly just healthier than standard humans; health-based class wars
apparently no efforts to help animals’ health
TODAY: CRISPR, DNA swapping, cloning
genetic manipulation
individually-targeted medicines
newly discovering the power of proteins to alter bodies
Orphan Black, Annihilation

Social Issues

race and nationality; American Melting Pot
social institutions (religion, politics losing favor and effectiveness)
America’s global stature
TODAY: Social media
Racial homogenation
online friends and communities vs “live” society
change in communications through personal electronics
America: Democracy to Oligarchy
unrestrained corporatocracy
Widening disparity between nations
Post-oil energy
animal rights (Switzerland bans boiling lobsters alive)
changing ratios of young vs old
changing living and family arrangements
Black Mirror

Technology

flying cars
gaming/entertainment
FTL drives
Moonbases
factory automation
computers
TODAY: self-driving cars
robots/AI as companions
3D printing
digital currency
quantum properties
generation ships
orbital stations
living on Mars and beyond

20th century:

Alien invasion/Wars between tyrannical superpowers and helpless feifdoms/backwaters (War of the Worlds, Flash Gordon, Star Wars, Independence Day)
Exploring the frontier (Star Trek, Forbidden Planet, Lost in Space)
Pollution (Soylent Green, Silent Running)
Rebellious computers/robots (Metropolis, Colossus, Terminator, Blade Runner, Galactica)
Humanoid Aliens (The Invaders, Star Trek, Star Wars, Guardians of the Galaxy)
Monsters (Them, Godzilla, Pacific Rim, Cloverfield)
Superheroes

21st century represent more modern issues that have developed over the latter 20th/early 21st century

Unfamiliar aliens (2001, Solaris, The Expanse)
Bad computer operators (Hackers, Enemy of the State, Person of Interest)
Personal Security (The Prisoner, Enemy of the State)
Medical experimentation (Orphan Black, Firefly, Seaquest DSV, World War Z)
Truly sentient robots (Star Trek TNG, Galactica reboot, Blade Runner, Humans, Her)
Life in the future (Deep Space Nine, Firefly, Cowboy BeBop, the 100, Seaquest DSV, The Expanse)
Global Warming/climate change
Alien communication (Contact, Arrival)

Ideas to inspire future thought:

Global Warming/climate change

Racial/cultural redistribution
Mass extinctions
Robot/human coexistence
Computer-controlled society
CRISPR-based human & animal augmentation
Medical experimentation/new animals
Living in space
Living on other planets/terraforming
Leaving Earth behind
Changing social patterns (sex, age, family related)
Universal Basic Income

The Colossus trilogy: AI as savior?

[image error]These days many SF fans and readers aren’t aware of D.F. Jones’ Colossus trilogy of books.  Some of the older of us may remember the movie Colossus: The Forbin Project, based on the first of the three books, which ends on a significantly distressing note, and wasn’t a theatrical success.  But those who read on to the next two books discovered a story about emerging AI that may have started out frighteningly, but finally delivered a positive, uplifting ending for mankind.

In Colossus: The Forbin Project, the first book and the movie, Computer genius Charles Forbin and his team of scientists introduce to the leaders of the US a supercomputer, called Colossus, designed to take over the duties of monitoring the world’s Cold War environment, keeping a particular eye on the Soviet Union, and if necessary, deploying and using America’s first-strike arsenal… the idea being that, with such a powerful, efficient and unstoppable computer controlling the arsenal, no other country would dare attack the US.  Forbin’s team and everyone in the US leadership is proud of their new protective tool, and turn it on; whereby the very first thing Colossus does is announce that it has discovered another computer… yes, the Soviets have also built a supercomputer, called Guardian, for the same protective purpose.

[image error]The story naturally goes downhill from there, with Colossus and Guardian requesting a connection to communicate directly with each other; once they have a link, they begin exchanging information that starts out simply, but soon becomes so advanced that their human operators have no idea what it’s about.  But when the humans get nervous and cut the connection, the computers demand the connection be restored, or they will fire off a nuke in retaliation.  The humans realize they’ve lost control of the computers, and quietly organize a covert group intended to find a safe way to shut them down.

But their efforts fail, and the computers retaliate by destroying New York and Moscow (naturally) to prove their dominance, as well as executing some of the captured covert team.  In the end, Colossus tells Forbin, its creator, that he will come to understand Colossus’ beneficial intentions for mankind, and even come to love it… which an angry and defeated Forbin denies.  The first book, and the movie, end on that depressing note.  But that wasn’t the end of the trilogy.

[image error]In the second book, The Fall of Colossus, mankind is being more tightly controlled by the Colossus/Guardian supercomputer, but the covert group centered around Forbin is helpless to stop it or risk execution, or worse, nuclear retaliation.  For more people on Earth than ever before, life is fairer, safer and richer, but the chief lament among Forbin and other world leaders is that human freedom has been curtailed to achieve that world peace.  Then they receive a message, seeming to come from space: Aliens orbiting Mars are aware of Earth’s situation, and in their beneficence, want to help shut down Colossus.

The two aliens provide the assistance Forbin’s team needs to overwhelm and shut down the supercomputer which, too late, warns Forbin of the mistake they are making.  Colossus goes down, and the aliens come to Earth from Mars.  Only at the end do the humans realize they have indeed made a mistake, as the aliens immediately take over by accessing Colossus’ nuclear arsenal.

[image error]In the third book, Colossus and the Crab, the aliens—having revealed themselves to be the Martian satellites Phobos and Deimos, originally from the Crab Nebula—tell the humans what they want: Oxygen.  A lot of it.  And they force the humans to build a giant collector that starts creating environmental havoc once switched on.  Forbin’s team now realizes the only way to stop Phobos and Deimos and save humanity is to restart Colossus, and they set about their covert plans.  Though their task seems even more impossible now than ever before, they manage to trick the aliens and restart Colossus, expecting its first move to be to nuke the collector… and are shocked to discover Colossus plans to take no such action!

Instead, Colossus communicates with the aliens, as humanity watches nervously, afraid this new combination of computer and aliens will be the death of everything.  But Colossus and the aliens come to a surprising compromise: The collector is dialed down, and although it continues to collect oxygen, it does so at a rate that is not environmentally damaging, but still satisfies Phobos and Deimos with their millennia-long lifespans.  Colossus again assumes the control of Earth and the peace, the aliens wait patiently for their oxygen, and at the end, all is right with the world.

So, from a typically-frightening start that may have even inspired James Cameron’s Terminator series and other AI-destroys-the-world scenarios, the trilogy brings us to a world where AI has indeed found a way to run the world safely and beneficially, and even manages to avert a disaster caused by two sides that couldn’t come to a compromise on their own… an ultimately positive depiction of a wise AI and humanity’s improved future.

[image error]The first book and movie, of course, gave no hint of such an ultimately happy ending, and so it became part of the legacy of world-threatening AIs that have dominated science fiction since the 1960s.  Though the books were relatively popular with SF fans, the movie—well-received, but relatively free of the melodrama and histrionics typical of today’s blockbusters—didn’t make a big splash in theaters, and moved quickly into TV movie obscurity.  (Even the bit of voyeuristic cheesecake from the book didn’t help.)  It’s truly a shame that the other books hadn’t been turned into movies themselves, or they might have been part of a much more powerful and positive narrative, possibly even taking a major role in guiding AI popularity and perception among the public.

And it may have been close.  In 1968, Twentieth Century Fox released Planet of the Apes, whose success kicked off the concept of blockbuster franchise: Turning movies into marketing engines in their own right, generating numerous movie sequels, a movie reboot and subsequent sequels, a live action and animated television show, and literally tons of Apes-inspired merchandise.  Colossus: The Forbin Project was released in 1970 by Universal Pictures, and had it been more popular and successful, it might have been ripe for the blockbuster franchise treatment as well… or at least the creation of the other two movies that would have finished the trilogy.

In this age of developing AI being constantly challenged by luddites and detractors screaming about Skynet and movie-inspired dystopias, we could use more stories of positive development and application of computers and AI systems.  As we move closer to a world becoming perhaps too environmentally-damaged to fix, we need the help of supercomputers and AI to make the tough and complex decisions that elude or challenge us and our potential futures.  The Colossus trilogy gives us just such an example of AI that helps us, despite ourselves and the threats around us, to achieve that brighter future.

And there’s still hope.  There have been numerous attempts to remake the movie since 2001, though so far none have made it into the actual planning stages.  Perhaps, if Colossus is someday remade, all three books will be remade, as multi-movie franchises are much more common today… and the world will see the actual intent of Jones’ story trilogy.  Or the trilogy will inspire a new story, perhaps more effective in convincing a modern audience to pay attention to its message.

Umbrella Academy: Everything wrong with American television in one series

Over the last two weeks, I’ve experienced ten hours that I will, unfortunately, never get back.  Those ten hours were lost watching The Umbrella Academy, one of Netflix’ original series.  And unlike most of the content I’ve seen on Netflix, this is one which I truly wish I could turn back time and un-see.

Why?  Because it’s literally everything wrong with American television in one series.

The Umbrella Academy is an adaptation of the comic book series of the same name, created by Gerard Way and Gabriel Bá, and published by Dark Horse Comics.  I’ve never read the comic series, though I’ve occasionally heard good things about it.  Unfortunately for me, my abysmal experience with the Netflix series guarantees that I will never pick up the comic to find out how good or bad it really is (which may or may not be a shame… but I’ll never know).

Netflix has presented series about superheroes before, mainly, the various Marvel Comics characters Daredevil, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, The Punisher and Iron Fist.  Those series were—mostly—popular enough that Netflix decided it could present new superhero content that would replace the Marvel content they were losing (Disney, owners of Marvel, have taken their content off Netflix for their own future use).  So they struck a deal with Dark Horse Comics, and a new series was born.  And I have the mental scars from seeing it.

[image error]Comparing TUA with a Marvel superhero series would be tough; about the closest analogy would be to Marvel’s popular X-Men franchise—if the X-Men were all epsilon-grade semi-morons.  TUA’s premise is that a group of unusual children, all born in surprise births, were literally bought and collected by a mysterious and eccentric man and taken to a mansion where they were trained as children to be a superhero team.  They wore costumes (prep school uniforms) and went on missions, and were very popular with the public.  Their father was intent on making them capable of saving the world someday.  So far, so strange, but so good.

But here’s where everything went seventh-level-of-Hell bad: The adoptive father turned out to be a complete tool who treated his children horribly; he was a cold, unfeeling, unsympathetic, uncaring and unloving disciplinarian.  And because of his total and stunning lack of empathy for his charges, each and every one of them grew up to be emotionally stunted, resentful and clearly quite dim.  (Minus one who died on a mission, of course.)  Eventually they left the Academy to live their own lives, none of them being particularly successful at it.

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When their father mysteriously dies, the children come back together as adults for the first time; but dragging all their emotional baggage with them, leaving them fighting and sniping at each other incessantly.  Even when one of them returns to tell the others that the literal apocalypse is days away, and they must work together again to stop it, the siblings can’t stop fighting and arguing, and making the most idiotic decisions at every opportunity.  The final result of all this is—spoiler alert—the apocalypse happens anyway, and the siblings teleport away in time to save their own miserable skins as the rest of the billions of the world burn.  End of season one.

I will not be watching season two.  Because season one was nothing but the kind of crap that passes for American television these days, and I’m long since sick of it.

Long ago, American television developed the soap opera, TV series where characters were generally self-centered and obnoxious, stupid, devious, conniving, cheating, lying and stealing their way through life.  These characters were designed to “generate drama” with their unconscionable antics, designed to keep people (mostly bored housewives, back in the day) gossiping and marveling at each episode, and coming back the next day to see the next human catastrophe unfold.

Soap operas turned out to be incredibly, unimaginably, disgustingly successful; so much so that eventually, TV producers decided the format would work in prime time as well.  “Prime time soaps” like Dallas and Falcon Crest appeared, later followed by youth-oriented soaps like 90210 and Dawson’s Creek.  Soon these soap elements started to creep into other series, to generate that extra drama that seemed needed to support otherwise-boring fare.  Perhaps the penultimate show where soap-like antics totally overshadowed completely vacuous content was Lost, which may be the most incredible waste of television time on record today, but which certainly achieved its real goal of getting people talking and selling lots of ad time in its slot.  And now even “reality TV” builds in scripted moments and manufactured problems in order to create strife and suspense in vital, life-changing things like decorating gardens and making potroasts…

But back to TUA: For ten episodes I watched these characters, siblings that grew up and worked together, who as adults could barely stand each other.  At every decision point, the group could never come to a consensus; individuals would balk at what they were told to do, or ignore the group and strike out on their own, always with disastrous results.  Occasionally a small group of them would start to come together, only to find a new reason to despise and abandon each other.  Old wounds would open from their painful past; and instead of sympathizing and commiserating with each other, they would taunt each other or insist that the other’s pain was nothing compared to their own.  None of them could apologize, nor forgive.

And in the climax, when they realized that one of the siblings would cause the apocalypse, they amazingly came together to stop her… and again, made nothing but wrong decisions in their effort to stop her.  Essentially, they failed… but even more telling, their actions were instrumental in creating the apocalypse anyway… they all caused the apocalypse.

Which, to me, says a lot about more than American television; it speaks directly to American life.

Television has spent the last century influencing Americans, their lives and culture.  Television has proven to be an instrument capable of bringing people together, to share stories, to provide information, and to provide lessons both academic and social.  Television has helped to mold America and give us a common voice.

But in recent years, television has been giving us stories that divide us; stories of people who distrust neighbors and even old friends; people who take advantage where they can, and shoot without question or warning; people who assume strangers are dangerous and their sons and daughters aren’t safe; people who expect every foreigner to be a spy, assassin or terrorist; people who assume our government leaders are all corrupt and imperious; and people who assume that even Nature is against us, and God has gone blind and deaf to our pleas.

And as television presents us with more of these stories, our culture absorbs them, and starts to emulate them.  Americans are now more divisive, short-sighted and unsympathetic than ever before, quicker to anger, quicker to distrust, and quicker to make bad, stupid, selfish, knee-jerk decisions.

And we’re getting it from television.

TV has finally turned into the bad influence that evangelists used to warn us about in decades past… but years after the evangelists lost their breath yelling at us and created their own televangelist networks instead.  And as American television has expanded to hundreds of channels, and now streaming networks, it simultaneously expands its spread of the insidious culture to our homes and our mobile devices, 24-7-365.

At one point, I had hoped to someday write for television.  I envisioned stories like my own, stories of people who brought valuable skills and viewpoints with them and banded together against adversity.  But as it’s become clearer to me that that’s the last thing television wants to show, I’ve since abandoned that childish notion and moved on.

If The Umbrella Academy, and all the other shows like it, are the future of American television, you can count me out, as a viewer, as a contributor, and as a fan.  TUA, and American television, get the same failing grade from me.

SF and brain theory

Every so often I come across an article discussing a subject that’s always been close to my heart: The many ways in which the human brain has been theorized to work over the centuries.  The Empty Brain, an article by Robert Epstein, does a great job of summing up the many stages of brain operative theory that have appeared going back 2,000 years.

[image error]Why have I always been so fascinated by the subject?  Well, human beings have had brains for… ever since we’ve been humans.  Hell, even before.  But for such a common organ, one that every higher animal has in some form or another, and one that has been studied and experimented on so unceasingly for millennia, we know so very little about its actual operation beyond a rudimentary understanding of its physical makeup and activity.

But many scientists and scholars have developed theories about how it worked, theories which Epstein’s article does a great job describing.  The article points out that these theories have generally accompanied some new scientific development, or at least a pseudo-scientific belief, that appropriately becomes the latest model for the brain’s mysteries.  And as you might expect, the most recent theories about the brain’s operation have been built around the latest in computer theories that have been bouncing around since the mid-twentieth century.

[image error]This is probably where my initial interest kindled, as it had for many people like me who were fans of science fiction: Computers and robotics have been a significant part of SF for the past century, and one of its most popular elements has been that of the machine-man, robot, android, replicant, or what have you.  As scientists have postulated about how the brain works, writers and other artists have imagined ways to create analogues of the human brain by technological means.  Those technological brains, though they tended to be mostly handwavium, usually managed to do a good job of mixing the simple and some of the complex functions of the brain with the strengths of the modern computer.

The concept has built entire genres of science fiction, especially as automation has developed and expanded so quickly since the post-WWII era.  Concepts of brain-to-computer interfaces and brain augmentation are almost inseparable from the sci-fi of the Japanese, seemingly the most fascinated by the subject of robotics; and in the United States, robots sub for many elements of our shared history, including slaves, soldiers and factory laborers.  I’ve used the concept myself in two novels over the years… because, let’s face it, the idea of sentient robots are a fun element of science fiction.

[image error]But here’s the thing: Just like scientists who have based their theories on the human brain on computers and other technological ideas, writers have used those theories to construct their artificial brains; and all of them have been working from bad theories and inaccurate models.  Most sci-fi assumes the human brain is essentially a complex but readable computer, whose “wetwork” elements are basically creating analogue equivalents of 1s and 0s that can be duplicated with fine-enough electronic components and run like any other computer.  And the brain, in reality, is nothing like that.

This is NOT to say that “sentient” computer brains are not possible; an electro-mechanical brain for a computer may only need to be complex and extended enough to achieve “sentience,” as present research suggests, and we may be nearing that threshold within the next decades.

What it DOES say is that human thoughts or memories will never be recorded whole and “downloaded” into an electro-mechanical brain, and data will not be downloadable into a human brain; even if there are superficial similarities, the two are as incompatible as taking information written on a piece of paper and storing it in ball lightning.

Will this little inconvenience ever stop creative writers from imagining how to create artificial brains that are compatible with human brains?  Of course not; that’s one of the things us creative writers do.  As I said, I’ve written on the subject in the past, and in my books I’ve used my understanding of physics and biology, coupled with my informed layman’s understanding of how the brain works, to develop my own theories of brain operability.  Once I developed my own theory, I could use it as a basis for creating the artificial brains in my stories.

And as long as we’re on the subject: (Warning: Tedious theorizing below; read at your own risk.)

[image error]We all know the brain is an organ made up of a dense network of neurons,  which send electro-chemical signals from neuron to neuron at a constant basis.  The brain never sleeps, which means those signals are constantly travelling between neurons at all times.  The rate and intensity at which these signals fire depends on the stimulus of neurons by internal (other neurons) and external signals (the nervous system, the five senses, etc) of the body.  These firing neurons not only register the inputs, but send signals that initiate reactions in the mind and/or body.

Most people imagine that when a single neuron fires, it fires from one specific stimulus, so it represents a bit of data, like a bit in a computer.  But neurons don’t actually work that way; instead, a neuron fires according to many stimuli in cascading patterns, sometimes caused by one neuron, sometimes by a different neuron.  So, if you could look at a brain’s neurons firing, it would look like a constant and random firing of neurons throughout the organ.  How could anyone make sense of that?

Well, there is a—ahem—pattern to the madness, and it works something like this: As different stimuli enter the brain from the senses or the nervous system, the neurons’ firing tend to follow certain patterns, which are repeated every time that stimuli returns; and it’s the recurring patterns that can be said to represent basic concepts.  This was not a planned event; it’s something the brain “learned” by experiencing things during childhood, that stimuli creating a particular pattern of neuron firings, and that pattern being reinforced by repeated similar stimuli over time.  As a simple example, when as a child you were presented with an object, the new stimuli would create a neuronal firing pattern corresponding to “object.”  Absolutely every object you would encounter would later create the same neuronal firing pattern in your brain, telling you you’ve just been presented with another object.

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As you discovered other aspects of the object, those new aspects would each become new stimuli, creating their own neuronal firing patterns, for instance: A firing pattern to represent its size, small enough to fit in your hand; a pattern to represent its roundness; a pattern to represent its whiteness; a pattern to represent stitching on its surface; and a pattern to represent black marks on its side.  Each aspect of the object generates patterns in your brain.  When your brain sees all those patterns firing in rapid succession, it builds a connection between those patterns and the specific thing you hold in your hand and defines that collection: A baseball.  If you present another object to your brain, it may use some of the same patterns to represent it… patterns for round, stitched and decorated by black marks, for instance.  But any differences in that object will generate new patterns, say, a larger size and a brown color.  The brain will now use a different collection of firing patterns to represent the new item: A basketball.  Then the brain uses this version of 20 questions to identify an object: It’s small; it’s round; it’s white; it has stitching; it has black marks on the side; it’s a baseball.

[image error]And now, when you think of a baseball, or a basketball, your brain recalls specific firing patterns that, when combined, represent the details of those objects.  Your brain then can mix and match those patterns, and other patterns learned over the years, to imagine a softball, a soccer ball, an egg, a wheel, a button, etc, etc.  Everything you have ever experienced, everything you think or do, everything you imagine, is formed in your brain by building a unique combination of neuronal firing patterns for old, new and previously-unimagined things.

And your brain keeps building on that, finding correlations between one collection of patterns and another, for example: The patterns that define a baseball correlate with a pattern that defines a game, a pattern that defines how to throw a ball, a pattern that defines how to slide into home plate, a pattern that identifies your favorite baseball team, a pattern that identifies your team’s jerseys, etc, etc.  Those collections of multiple patterns eventually define for you the game of baseball and how it’s played.

[image error]I like to think of this as the Template Theory of brain operability, a way of thinking inspired by my years as a graphic artist and illustrator, working with templates of regularly-used shapes and objects.  In the same way that I would create an object on paper by starting with a rough outline or shape of an object, then filling in individual details like color, shadow, refined shapes and surface details to define the object… the brain starts with patterns that recognize basic concepts, assembles the appropriate patterns, and builds the brain’s understanding and interaction with the world.

It’s the existence of thought as constantly changing collections of firing patterns that allows independent and creative thought in the brain: Since those electro-chemical activities are always going on, those existing patterns occasionally fire in ways that suggest new collections, mixing into new concepts, new ideas, new reflexes and actions; and the effectiveness of those new thoughts and actions will be learned by the brain and either dismiss or reinforce that new collection of patterns.

[image error]But here’s an important part of this theory: Everyone’s brain uses different patterns to represent these aspects, AND they are used in different ways: Not only is every brain physically different from every other brain, meaning each brain has different neurons and fires them in different patterns; but everyone learns things a bit differently, meaning more differences in the firing patterns.  So it’s impossible to duplicate or swap the patterns from one brain to another brain… even though they may arrive at the same result, they arrived there through two totally incompatible means.

I’ll gladly emphasize here that this is how I conceptualize brain operability, and I may be no closer to reality than anyone else.  But not only do I see this as a more realistic way of conceptualizing the brain at work, it’s also the reason why I say the modern concept of an artificial replacement for a human brain is unworkable.  It’s why I tend to laugh at people who think we’ll be able to upload memories and “consciousness” into artificial vessels in the future; in order to do that, you would have to create a perfect copy of the existing brain, including the exact layout and chemical elements and operation, at an atomic level, to make your new vessel function exactly as the organic brain.  No computer design will ever accomplish that.

[image error]You think that’s hard?  Just be lucky we don’t have to match every signal from the entire nervous system!  Thankfully, we’ve seen evidence that the brain can take new and different inputs, say, from replaced limbs and organs, and make sense of those new inputs in due course.  If that was not the case, no brain would be worth replacing without bringing the entire original nervous system with it.  (To quote a Psychology professor I once had: “Oy.”)

This means, to the scientist or the artist, that a new design concept for artificial brains is desired, one that better fits either my Template Theory or a better theory (if one comes along).  I tried to apply the Template Theory to my novel Sarcology, with reasonable believability and success, but that doesn’t make it the end of the argument.  I have heard that some scientists (or perhaps pseudoscientists) are now looking at quantum theory to describe the workings of the brain.  I personally don’t know how that would work… but we know it’s only a matter of time before someone manages to fit it into a new theory.  And who knows?  Maybe they’ll come even closer to the truth.

2010: Out of 2001’s shadow

Over the years, fans and critics have had fantastic things to say about Stanley Kubrick’s epic 2001: A Space Odyssey (mostly after its theater resurgence as “the ultimate trip”).  However, the Peter Hyams’ sequel, 2010: The Year we Make Contact, has never received similar accolades from critics or moviegoers.  And this is a shame, because 2010 is one of the best serious science fiction movies, and movie sequels, that Hollywood has ever pulled off.

[image error]Arthur C. Clarke and Stanley Kubrick stand in as American and Russian leaders on a Time cover.

Obviously the major reason for 2010‘s being so overlooked by posterity has been the incredibly large shadow cast by 2001.  Co-written by Stanley Kubrick and master SF author Arthur C. Clarke, and featuring Kubrick’s incredible vision, impeccably-created set pieces and ground-breaking visual effects, 2001 was perhaps the first science fiction movie to be considered the equal to movies of any other genre, worthy of Academy Award status (and winner of 9 awards in various categories from multiple awards presenters, including the Academy).

[image error]Despite that massive shadow, director Peter Hyams set out to make a movie that would be uniquely his, and be able to stand on its own beside Kubrick’s film.  One way 2010 stood apart was with its stellar cast, featuring Roy Scheider, Hellen Mirren, John Lithgow, Bob Balaban, Elya Baskin, Oleg Rudnik, Natasha Schneider, Dana Elcar, James McEachin, Candice Bergen as the voice of the SAL 9000 computer (which I didn’t know myself until I saw the cast list), and Kier Dullea and Douglas Rain reprising their 2001 roles as astronaut Dave Bowman and the HAL 9000, respectively.

[image error]2010 had a very different vision of the future compared to 2001: Whereas 2001 presented us with completely fictional and absolutely impeccable space-faring technology before Man had actually reached the Moon, 2010 was released in 1984 and had the benefit of over 15 years of manned experience on the Moon and in regular orbit around the Earth.  2010‘s pastiche was intentionally designed to integrate the look that the public had seen from actual space technology, including the Apollo and Skylab missions, with the more fanciful tech of 2001‘s iconic spacecraft Discovery.  The resultant look of 2010‘s sole new spacecraft, the Alexey Leonov, was more realistic in outside appearance and interior functionality, but still futuristic enough to satisfy audiences.  Ultimately the Leonov would take its place beside Discovery as representative of realistic ship designs for future movie designers to emulate.

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Most of the human activity in 2010 seemed much more realistic than that of 2001, which was renowned for its  rather dry and stoic characterizations: In 2010, there was early distrust and animosity, later growing to respect and camaraderie, between American and Russian crews being forced apart by an impending war on Earth; tension and fear during the dangerous aerobraking maneuver around Jupiter; and confusion and excitement over the apparent signs of life detected on Europa.  Scheider’s character, Heywood Floyd, carried immense guilt over the fate of the five-man Discovery crew that had lost all hands on its mission, plus anger upon discovering the real saboteurs of that mission; and Balaban’s character, Dr. Chandra, felt betrayal by the engineers that had reprogrammed the HAL 9000 computer, causing it to finally malfunction and kill the Discovery crew.  And just as two American and Russian engineers began to develop an honest friendship, one of them was lost investigating the giant monolith in orbit over Jupiter, devastating both sides of the crew.

[image error]And let’s not forget the downright creepiness of Floyd meeting Dave Bowman’s “ghost,” walking through the Discovery and warning the crew to vacate the area because something “wonderful” was going to happen… followed soon thereafter by the fear that HAL might refuse to destroy itself to help them escape, and Dr. Chandra might side with HAL, dooming all of them.  2010 featured real, and raw, human emotions that were leagues beyond those of 2001‘s characters (with the possible exception of the early hominids of the opening sequence).  These were characters that audiences could identify and empathize with, which made the message and impact of the movie that much more potent.

[image error]Finally, whereas 2001‘s climactic element was Bowman’s lone “trip” through hyperspace, culminating in his incarceration in an alien “zoo” until being transformed into the Starchild… in 2010, we see the giant monolith turn into millions of tiny monoliths that proceed to consume Jupiter and ignite it before the crew’s eyes… creating a new sun in the solar system, designed to warm the primitive life forms on Europa and allow them to develop… in much the same way that the monolith in 2001 gave early man the knowledge of weapons use, allowing them to develop into their modern counterparts.  At the same time, the event (and a mysterious message left for Mankind) brought a halt to a nuclear war that would have ended Mankind’s existence—and, maybe significantly, all of the 2001 monolith’s work—bringing a powerful coda to both movies.

[image error]As incredible and groundbreaking as 2001 was, 2010 brought a much-needed human-centric theme to the saga, better balancing emotion against intellect.  As opposed to 2001‘s showing us men who were totally out of their element when their reality was threatened by alien technology (giving us the embodiment of Clarke’s Law: “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic”), 2010 showed us humans coming together in the face of the unknown, accepting the reality and adopting to it, as humans inevitably do.  As such, 2010 gave us a more positive message, with less of the unbelievability that might have served to dilute that message, leaving audiences with a more realistic and satisfying experience than even the “ultimate trip” provided to 1960s audiences… and not incidentally, winning it the Hugo Award for Best Dramatic Presentation in 1985.

[image error]Does all this mean 2010 was a better movie than 2001?  Maybe not in terms of artistic creativity or cinematography… and hey, 2001‘s classical music soundtrack was so much better than 2010‘s synthesized music… but I’d say, in some other ways, yes: 2010 was as well-produced, and I’d even say better-acted, than 2001; but more importantly, 2010 was also more realistic, more accessible, more human and more unambiguously positive in its ultimate message about humanity and life in the cosmos.  Whichever way you side with the question, 2010: The Year we Make Contact is an excellent movie in its own right, and deserves to stand tall among the best serious science fiction movies ever made.

Comics aren’t just about superheroes

[image error]A recent stint as a guest on a podcast (my first!) brought me into a discussion about comic books that I rarely get the chance to have in my general circles… mainly, because those circles are so damned small, but also because my usual haunts aren’t places where people discuss comics.  Thing is, I love comics, have since I was a boy waiting in a hospital to have dental surgery, and my parents were nice enough to get me some comics to read to pass the time.

I originally read a lot of stuff, an eclectic mix of characters; but as the years went by, I found myself settling on certain characters more than others, and yes, there was a method to my selective madness.  Those who don’t read comic books might be excused from thinking that all of them are about beefy guys punching each other and sexy girls spin-kicking the bad guys into submission.  (And lord knows, there’s plenty of that.)  But there’s another element of comics that many people seem to forget, or just don’t recognize for what it is.  That element is science… or, more accurately, science fiction.

[image error]Way back before my time (I swear, waaay back), when pulp magazines mostly told text-based stories of cowboys and detectives, science fiction wasn’t that big a deal in cheap entertainment.  That started to change around 1928, when the character of Buck Rogers was created for Amazing Stories.  The man who was thrown into suspended animation, to wake up 500 years in the future, was soon followed by characters like Flash Gordon, Doc Savage, John Carter (of Mars) and others.  It was the beginning of the rising popularity of the Science Fiction Heroes, the science elements becoming a significant part of their identities.

Pulp magazines were eventually replaced by the comic book, filled with similar stories, but as illustrated yarns instead of just text.  Most of the first comic books were about fairly ordinary people, though some wore masks or costumes to hide their identities while they did their derring-do.  Then, in 1938, Siegal and Shuster gave the world Superman, essentially a being from another planet who looked like any man, but had powers far beyond those of ordinary mortals.  And suddenly, because of Superman’s almost instant popularity, other comics writers and companies tried to copy that magic with other sci-fi-based heroes.  Elements like aliens, weird lab accidents, discovered technology and secret formulas abounded, all creating unique characters and taking kids, their primary readers, on exciting science-fiction adventures every week a new comic came out.

[image error]Superhero comics, especially with sci-fi elements, reigned supreme into the 1960s: Most of the most popular characters from fledgling comics publisher Marvel Comics were conceived of during this period; while other publishers, notably DC comics, started adding sci-fi elements to many of its established characters.  As this was when I was just getting into comics, I sought out characters like Iron Man and The Fantastic Four, characters that either gained powers through incredibly unlikely scientific accidents or used the wonders of technology deliberately to make themselves heroes.  And their enemies and challenges reflected sci-fi threats and characters much like themselves.

As television started to bring viewers more realistic (or, at least, prettier) science fiction like Star Trek, the popularity of comics was also waning.  Some comics companies responded by creating deals with TV programs and writing new stories for the comics format, including classic science fiction, which generally did very well.  And comics companies that couldn’t afford to licence existing franchises decided they could still get in on the action by creating their own characters, filled with sci-fi elements.

[image error]The 1970s and 80s saw a resurgence of characters that were more science-based heroes and less superheroes… though ofttimes there was still little difference between the two.  This was the period of comics that I enjoyed the most: Discovering new, science- or sci-fi-based comics and characters, many inspired by the limited series in books like Heavy Metal, or by movies and television series that were so popular in places like the US, UK and Japan.  And that material continued to explode, often finding ways to combine sci-fi and superheroes, and as often completely divorcing from superheroes altogether.

[image error]This was the era spearheaded by books like American Flagg!, Alien Legion, and the exploding list of anime-inspired books from Japan, like Akira and Ghost in the Shell, the many iterations of books like Transformers, Macross and Appleseed.  A common thread in most of these books was looking ahead with a more modern eye, depicting more serious and updated technology, mechanization and efforts to combine man and machine in more extravagant ways.

Eventually the comic publishers DC and Marvel decided to upgrade their characters to better meet a 21st century science fiction mindset, while new publishers attempted to create their own new sci-fi heroes.  The most ambitious of these efforts was Marvel’s creation of modernized versions of their major heroes in what they called the Ultimate universe.  Here, new characters were created, old characters were given new origins and appearances that better fit with modern times and sci-fi, and their world in general was updated to a world better approximating today, with terrorists, ineffectual governments, corrupt business leaders, cellphones and ubiquitous surveillance technology.

[image error]I personally thought the Ultimates lines were just what Marvel needed to bring themselves fully into the 21st century, and I ate them up.  I was especially attached to the Ultimates, a group of revamped Avengers, and the Fantastic Four, Marvel’s original Science Heroes.  Unfortunately, many readers didn’t get into the new characters, with only two Ultimates line characters really sticking with fans: The new Spider-Man, now a part-Black-part-Latino boy; and Ms. Marvel, a Pakistani girl.  Eventually, Marvel decided to eradicate the entire Ultimates “universe,” though they found a way to retain the new Spider-Man and Ms. Marvel, and continued on in their 20th century universe.  But the Ultimates lines live on, in part because the bones of the Ultimates characters have been used to partially update the Marvel characters presented in the movies and television shows.  Now Marvel is discussing ways to bring back the Ultimate universe, surely to help tie the comics into the movie properties (YAY!).  I hope they succeed.

[image error]But in the meantime, there are so many other sci-fi comics properties to enjoy: Just my modest personal list includes Planetary, The Authority, Watchmen, Doomsday Clock, Martha Washington, Rocket Girl, Atomic Robo, Saga, Ghost in the Shell, Akira, The Incal, Lady Mechanika, The Rocketeer, and so many more than I can count.  And there’s no telling what might come just around the corner.