When I was young, science fiction was the genre of choice for many engineers and scientists. But the genre declined significantly in recent years. Part of the problem is the rise dystopian fiction. In the imagined future, we are no longer conquering space or developing new fantastic technologies, but rather, increasingly, battling the consequences of climate change or of some evil corporation. In some respect, science fiction is always about the present and present has become unimaginative, fearful and generally anxious.
The United States is experiencing an extreme teenage mental-health crisis. From 2009 to 2021, the share of American high-school students who say they feel “persistent feelings of sadness or hopelessness” rose from 26 percent to 44 percent, according to a new CDC study. This is the highest level of teenage sadness ever recorded.
Civilizations are not eternal, they have a life cycle. When young people grow increasingly depressed, when we are more eager to take down than to build up, we are facing a decline. On a per capita basis, most countries in the West are stagnating. Economists like Cowen and Gordon blame in part the relative lack of benefits due to the Internet and technological advancement in computers. But I am sure Roman intellectuals could have blamed the decline of their empire on the fact that late-stage innovations like the onager were not sufficiently impactful.
The covid era is a perfect illustration. Entire societies turned inward, locked up, shut down their industries, their entertainment. We did get an echo of science-fiction, but the dystopian kind. In communist China, we had the so-called big whites, a special police force wearing hazmat suits, enforcing lockdowns. Worldwide, politicians took the habit of wearing black masks. So the Empire from Star Wars was a tangible reality, but without much in the way of rebels. No Luke, no Lea came to be celebrated.
But culture is not a mere reflection of an era. In some sense, culture defines the era, it is a beast that is larger than any one of us. As much as you would like to think that politicians are in charge, they are strictly limited by their culture. Václav Havel made this point in The Power of the Powerless (1985): the ruler of a communist country has no more than a grocer to oppose the prevailing culture, and he may even have less power.
So how do we get back to a future-oriented culture? One where the challenges are met with courage. One where we fight our way through instead of turning inward and regressing?
Culture is all of us. Culture is what we do. It is what we talk about. And it is what we read.
Few books have the power to inspire readers quite like Devon Eriksen’s Theft of Fire. This work of science fiction takes us on a journey through the frozen edge of the solar system, where a hidden treasure lies waiting to be discovered. It is a tale of adventure, intrigue, and the indomitable spirit of humanity.
It is an imperfect, and even somewhat sad future. There are poor people, there are oppressed people. But it is world where you can hope. It is very much the path in our future where Elon Musk’s futuristic and optimistic vision came true. Yes, Elon Musk himself shaped this universe. Eriksen does not tell us that if ‘the man’ (Elon Musk) has his way, we will live forever in harmony. Quite the opposite. If you are intrigued by ChatGPT and Google Gemini, Eriksen has you covered, as well.
In space, everyone can hear you scream. You vacsuit monitors your heartbeat, your blood pressure. It knows when you are injured. And it knows when to cry for help on the 100 MHz emergency band. And everyone is listening. Every suit radio. Every spacecraft. Every robot probe.
It may maybe telling to look at who published Eriksen’s book: it is a self-published book. As far as I can tell, one of Eriksen’s wives is in charge of marketing. She is the one who reached out to me and suggested this review. Maybe that’s how we change our destiny: from the bottom up. Just like in the novel.