Pioneering Sci-Fi Author William Gibson Predicts in 1997 How the Internet Will Change Our World

“What’s the one thing that all great works of sci­ence fic­tion have in com­mon?” asks a 1997 episode of The Net, the BBC’s tele­vi­sion series about the pos­si­bil­i­ties of this much-talked-about new thing called the inter­net. “They all tried to see into the future, and they all got it wrong. Orwell’s 1984, Hux­ley’s Brave New World, Arthur C. Clarke’s 2001: all, to some extent or oth­er, wrong. And there’s anoth­er name to add to this list: William Gib­son.” But then on strolls Gib­son him­self, fresh off the writ­ing of Idoru, a nov­el involv­ing a human who wants to mar­ry a dig­i­tal­ly gen­er­at­ed Japan­ese pop star, to grant the inter­view above.

In it Gib­son admits that com­put­ers had­n’t gone quite the way he’d imag­ined thir­teen years ear­li­er in his debut nov­el Neu­ro­mancer — but in which he also offers pre­scient advice about how we should regard new tech­nol­o­gy even today. “The thing that Neu­ro­mancer pre­dicts as being actu­al­ly like the inter­net isn’t actu­al­ly like the inter­net at all!” Gib­son says in a more recent inter­view with Wired. “I did­n’t get it right but I said there was going to be some­thing.” Back in the mid-1980s, as he tells the BBC, “there was effec­tive­ly no inter­net to extrap­o­late from. The cyber­space I made up isn’t being used in Neu­ro­mancer the way we’re using the inter­net today.”

Gib­son had envi­sioned a cor­po­rate-dom­i­nat­ed net­work infest­ed with “cyber­net­ic car thieves skulk­ing through it attempt­ing to steal tid­bits of infor­ma­tion.” By the mid-1990s, though, the inter­net had become a place where “a real­ly tal­ent­ed and deter­mined fif­teen-year-old” could cre­ate some­thing more com­pelling than “a multi­na­tion­al enter­tain­ment con­glom­er­ate might come up with.” He tells the BBC that “what the inter­net has become is as much a sur­prise to me as the col­lapse of the Sovi­et Union was,” but at that point he had begun to per­ceive the shape of things to come. “I can’t see why it won’t become com­plete­ly ubiq­ui­tous,” he says, envi­sion­ing its evo­lu­tion “into some­thing like tele­vi­sion to the extent that it pen­e­trates every lev­el of soci­ety.”

At the same time, “it does­n’t mat­ter how fast your modem is if you’re being shelled by eth­nic sep­a­ratists” — still very much a con­cern in cer­tain parts of the world — and even the most promis­ing tech­nolo­gies don’t mer­it our uncrit­i­cal embrace. “I think we should respect the pow­er of tech­nol­o­gy and try to fear it in a ratio­nal way,” he says. “The only appro­pri­ate response” is to give in to nei­ther techno­pho­bia nor technophil­ia, but “to teach our­selves to be absolute­ly ambiva­lent about them and imag­ine their most inad­ver­tent side effects,” the side effects “that tend to get us” — not to men­tion the ones that make the best plot ele­ments. See­ing as how we now live in a world where mar­riage to syn­thet­ic Japan­ese idols has become a pos­si­bil­i­ty, among oth­er devel­op­ments seem­ing­ly pulled from the pages of Gib­son’s nov­els, we would do well to heed even these decades-old words of advice about his main sub­ject.

via Big Think

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Take a Road Trip with Cyber­space Vision­ary William Gib­son, Watch No Maps for These Ter­ri­to­ries (2000)

How Chris Marker’s Rad­i­cal Sci­Fi Film La Jetée Changed the Life of Cyber­punk Prophet William Gib­son

Cyber­punk: 1990 Doc­u­men­tary Fea­tur­ing William Gib­son & Tim­o­thy Leary Intro­duces the Cyber­punk Cul­ture

Sci-Fi Author J.G. Bal­lard Pre­dicts the Rise of Social Media (1977)

Mark Twain Pre­dicts the Inter­net in 1898: Read His Sci-Fi Crime Sto­ry, “From The ‘Lon­don Times’ in 1904”

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Ursula K. Le Guin’s Daily Routine: The Discipline That Fueled Her Imagination

ursula k le guin writing advice

Image by Gor­thi­an, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

“Some of us are Nor­man Mail­er,” said Ursu­la K. LeGuin in a 1976 inter­view with sci­ence-fic­tion fanzine Luna Month­ly, “but oth­ers of us are mid­dle-aged Port­land house­wives.” And though Le Guin may have thought of her­self as one of the lat­ter, “mid­dle-aged Port­land house­wife” is hard­ly the way the rest of us would describe her. Over a near­ly 60-year-long career, Le Guin pro­duced an enor­mous body of lit­er­ary work, includ­ing but not lim­it­ed to the six books in which she cre­at­ed the world of Earth­sea and oth­er acclaimed sci-fi nov­els like The Left Hand of Dark­nessThe Dis­pos­sessed, and The Lathe of Heav­en. And some­how she man­aged to write all of it between 7:15 a.m. and 1:00 p.m. each day.

Or that’s what her ide­al writ­ing sched­ule dic­tates, any­way. Recent­ly tweet­ed out by writer Michael J. Sei­dlinger as “the ide­al writ­ing rou­tine,” it first appeared in an inter­view she gave in 1988 (and more recent­ly reap­peared in Ursu­la Le Guin: The Last Inter­view and Oth­er Con­ver­sa­tions).

Begin­ning at the ear­ly hour of 5:30 in the morn­ing, the time to “wake up and lie there and think,” it con­tin­ues on to break­fast — and “lots” of it — at 6:15, and the com­mence­ment of the day’s “writ­ing, writ­ing, writ­ing” an hour lat­er, which lasts until lunch at noon. After that, Le Guin con­sid­ered what we con­sid­er her main work to be done, mov­ing on to such pur­suits as read­ing, music, cor­re­spon­dence, “maybe house clean­ing,” and din­ner. Past 8:15, she said, “I tend to be very stu­pid,” a state in which nobody could write the sort of books we remem­ber her for.

But how­ev­er orig­i­nal­ly she wrote, Le Guin was hard­ly excep­tion­al in liv­ing this way while doing it. “Be reg­u­lar and order­ly in your life, so that you may be vio­lent and orig­i­nal in your work,” said Gus­tave Flaubert, a max­im true for enough writ­ers that we also worked it in when we fea­tured an info­graph­ic on the dai­ly rou­tines of famous cre­ative peo­ple. In both Flaubert and Le Guin’s case (or in the case of a writer like Haru­ki Muraka­mi, who ris­es famous­ly ear­ly and runs famous­ly hard when work­ing on a book), their domes­tic lives, well-ordered to the point that an out­side observ­er would find them bor­ing, facil­i­tat­ed the cre­ation of lit­er­a­ture like none that had ever come before. This despite the fact that, on the sur­face, few nov­els could seem more dis­sim­i­lar than Flaubert and Le Guin’s, but each writer would have seen what the oth­er had in com­mon: specif­i­cal­ly, that they knew what it took to get the imag­i­na­tion well and tru­ly fired up.

via Michael J. Sei­dlinger

Relat­ed con­tent:

The Dai­ly Habits of Famous Writ­ers: Franz Kaf­ka, Haru­ki Muraka­mi, Stephen King & More

The Dai­ly Rou­tines of Famous Cre­ative Peo­ple, Pre­sent­ed in an Inter­ac­tive Info­graph­ic

Ursu­la Le Guin Gives Insight­ful Writ­ing Advice in Her Free Online Work­shop

Cel­e­brate the Life & Writ­ing of Ursu­la K. Le Guin (R.I.P.) with Clas­sic Radio Drama­ti­za­tions of Her Sto­ries

Ursu­la K. Le Guin Names the Books She Likes and Wants You to Read

Watch the New Trail­er for Worlds of Ursu­la K Le Guin, the First Fea­ture Film on the Pio­neer­ing Sci-Fi Author

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Oodles of Classic Doctor Who Episodes Streaming Free Online This Month

A quick fyi: This month, Twitch is pre­sent­ing a marathon stream­ing of clas­sic Doc­tor Who episodes. Con­tin­u­ing through Jan­u­ary 25th, they plan to broad­cast “11 to 12 hours of new episodes per day (~27 episodes), repeat­ing once so you can catch Doc­tor Who near­ly 24 hours a day, every day…” Stream the episodes right above, or here on Twitch.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

via Boing­Bo­ing

Relat­ed Con­tent:

30 Hours of Doc­tor Who Audio Dra­mas Now Free to Stream Online

The BBC Cre­ates Step-by-Step Instruc­tions for Knit­ting the Icon­ic Doc­tor Who Scarf: A Doc­u­ment from the Ear­ly 1980s

Vin­cent van Gogh Vis­its a Mod­ern Muse­um & Gets to See His Artis­tic Lega­cy: A Touch­ing Scene from Doc­tor Who

42 Hours of Ambi­ent Sounds from Blade Run­ner, Alien, Star Trek and Doc­tor Who Will Help You Relax & Sleep

The Fas­ci­nat­ing Sto­ry of How Delia Der­byshire Cre­at­ed the Orig­i­nal Doc­tor Who Theme

Isaac Asimov Predicts in 1983 What the World Will Look Like in 2019: Computerization, Global Co-operation, Leisure Time & Moon Mining

Rochester Insti­tute of Tech­nol­o­gy, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

“It’s dif­fi­cult to make pre­dic­tions,” they say, “espe­cial­ly about the future.” The wit­ti­cism has been var­i­ous­ly attrib­uted. If Yogi Berra said it, it’s adorable non­sense, if Mark Twain, dry plain­spo­ken irony. If Niels Bohr, how­ev­er, we have a state­ment that makes us won­der what exact­ly “the future” could mean in a rad­i­cal­ly uncer­tain uni­verse.

If sci­en­tists can’t pre­dict the future, who can? Sci­ence fic­tion writ­ers, of course. They may be spec­tac­u­lar­ly wrong at times, but few pro­fes­sion­als seem bet­ter equipped to imag­i­na­tive­ly extrap­o­late from cur­rent conditions—cultural, tech­no­log­i­cal, social, and political—and show us things to come. J.G. Bal­lard, Octavia But­ler, Arthur C. Clarke, Kurt Von­negut… all have fore­seen many of the mar­vels and dystopi­an night­mares that have arrived since their time.

In 1964, Asi­mov used the occa­sion of the New York World’s Fair to offer his vision of fifty years hence. “What will the World’s Fair of 2014 be like?” he asked in The New York Times, the ques­tion itself con­tain­ing an erro­neous assump­tion about the dura­bil­i­ty of that event. As a sci­en­tist him­self, his ideas are both tech­no­log­i­cal­ly farsee­ing and con­ser­v­a­tive, con­tain­ing advances we can imag­ine not far off in our future, and some that may seem quaint now, though rea­son­able by the stan­dards of the time (“fis­sion-pow­er plants… sup­ply­ing well over half the pow­er needs of human­i­ty”).

Nine­teen years lat­er, Asi­mov ven­tured again to pre­dict the future—this time of 2019 for The Star. Assum­ing the world has not been destroyed by nuclear war, he sees every facet of human soci­ety trans­formed by com­put­er­i­za­tion. This will, as in the Indus­tri­al Rev­o­lu­tion, lead to mas­sive job loss­es in “cler­i­cal and assem­bly-line jobs” as such fields are auto­mat­ed. “This means that a vast change in the nature of edu­ca­tion must take place, and entire pop­u­la­tions must be made ‘com­put­er-lit­er­ate’ and must be taught to deal with a ‘high-tech’ world,” he writes.

The tran­si­tion to a com­put­er­ized world will be dif­fi­cult, he grants, but we should have things pret­ty much wrapped up by now.

By the year 2019, how­ev­er, we should find that the tran­si­tion is about over. Those who can be retrained and re-edu­cat­ed will have been: those who can’t be will have been put to work at some­thing use­ful, or where rul­ing groups are less wise, will have been sup­port­ed by some sort of grudg­ing wel­fare arrange­ment.

In any case, the gen­er­a­tion of the tran­si­tion will be dying out, and there will be a new gen­er­a­tion grow­ing up who will have been edu­cat­ed into the new world. It is quite like­ly that soci­ety, then, will have entered a phase that may be more or less per­ma­nent­ly improved over the sit­u­a­tion as it now exists for a vari­ety of rea­sons.

Asi­mov fore­sees the cli­mate cri­sis, though he doesn’t phrase it that way. “The con­se­quences of human irre­spon­si­bil­i­ty in terms of waste and pol­lu­tion will become more appar­ent and unbear­able with time and again, attempts to deal with this will become more stren­u­ous.” A “world effort” must be applied, neces­si­tat­ing “increas­ing co-oper­a­tion among nations and among groups with­in nations” out of a “cold-blood­ed real­iza­tion that any­thing less than that will mean destruc­tion for all.”

He is con­fi­dent, how­ev­er, in such “neg­a­tive advances” as the “defeat of over­pop­u­la­tion, pol­lu­tion and mil­i­tarism.” These will be accom­pa­nied by “pos­i­tive advances” like improve­ments in edu­ca­tion, such that “edu­ca­tion will become fun because it will bub­ble up from with­in and not be forced in from with­out.” Like­wise, tech­nol­o­gy will enable increased qual­i­ty of life for many.

more and more human beings will find them­selves liv­ing a life rich in leisure.

This does not mean leisure to do noth­ing, but leisure to do some­thing one wants to do; to be free to engage in sci­en­tif­ic research. in lit­er­a­ture and the arts, to pur­sue out-of-the-way inter­ests and fas­ci­nat­ing hob­bies of all kinds.

If this seems “impos­si­bly opti­mistic,” he writes, just wait until you hear his thoughts on space col­o­niza­tion and moon min­ing.

The Asi­mov of 1983 sounds as con­fi­dent in his pre­dic­tions as the Asi­mov of 1964, though he imag­ines a very dif­fer­ent world each time. His future sce­nar­ios tell us as much or more about the time in which he wrote as they do about the time in which we live. Read his full essay at The Star and be the judge of how accu­rate his pre­dic­tions are, and how like­ly any of his opti­mistic solu­tions for our seem­ing­ly intractable prob­lems might be in the com­ing year.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

In 1964, Isaac Asi­mov Pre­dicts What the World Will Look Like Today: Self-Dri­ving Cars, Video Calls, Fake Meats & More

Philip K. Dick Makes Off-the-Wall Pre­dic­tions for the Future: Mars Colonies, Alien Virus­es & More (1981)

Arthur C. Clarke Pre­dicts the Future in 1964 … And Kind of Nails It

Octavia Butler’s 1998 Dystopi­an Nov­el Fea­tures a Fascis­tic Pres­i­den­tial Can­di­date Who Promis­es to “Make Amer­i­ca Great Again”

Sci-Fi Author J.G. Bal­lard Pre­dicts the Rise of Social Media (1977)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

NASA Creates Movie Parody Posters for Its Expedition Flights: Download Parodies of Metropolis, The Matrix, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and More

For just over eigh­teen years now, NASA has been con­duct­ing expe­di­tions to the Inter­na­tion­al Space Sta­tion. Each of these mis­sions has not just a name, or at least a num­ber (last week saw the launch of Expe­di­tion 58), but an offi­cial poster with a group pho­to of the crew. “These posters were used to adver­tise expe­di­tions and were also hung in NASA facil­i­ties and oth­er gov­ern­ment orga­ni­za­tions,” says Bored Pan­da. “How­ev­er, when astro­nauts got bored of the stan­dard group pho­tos they decid­ed to spice things up a bit.”

And “what’s a bet­ter way to do that oth­er than throw­ing in some pop cul­ture ref­er­ences?” As any­one who has ever worked with sci­en­tists knows, a fair few of them have some­how made them­selves into liv­ing com­pen­dia of knowl­edge of not just their field but their favorite books, movies, and tele­vi­sion shows — not always, but very often, books, movies, and tele­vi­sion shows sci­ence-fic­tion­al in nature.

The prime exam­ple, it hard­ly bears men­tion­ing, would be Star Trek, but the well of fan­dom at NASA runs much deep­er than that.

You’ll get a sense of how far that well goes if you have a look through the Expe­di­tion poster archive at NASA’s web site. There you’ll find not just pop cul­ture ref­er­ences but elab­o­rate­ly designed trib­utes — down­load­able in high res­o­lu­tion — to the likes of not just Star Trek but Star WarsThe MatrixThe Hitch­hik­er’s Guide to the Galaxy (the sole pos­si­ble theme, Dou­glas Adams fans will agree, for Expe­di­tion 42), and even Fritz Lang’s Metrop­o­lis, which first gave dystopi­an sci-fi its visu­al form in 1927 (and which you can watch here). Albums are also fair game, as evi­denced by the Abbey Road poster for Expe­di­tion 26.

Bored Pan­da calls these posters “hilar­i­ous­ly awk­ward,” but opin­ions do vary: “I love them,” writes Boing Boing’s Rusty Blazen­hoff. “I think they’re fun and cre­ative.” And what­ev­er you think of the con­cepts, can you fail to be impressed by the sheer atten­tion to detail that has clear­ly gone into repli­cat­ing the source images? It’s all more or less in line with the for­mi­da­ble graph­ic design skill at NASA, pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture, that has gone into its posters cel­e­brat­ing space trav­el and the 40th anniver­sary of the Voy­ager mis­sions.

Going through the Expe­di­tion poster archive, I notice that none seems yet to have paid trib­ute to Andrei Tarkovsky’s Solarissure­ly one of the most pow­er­ful pieces of out­er space-relat­ed cin­e­ma ever made. Grant­ed, that film has much less to do with team­work and cama­raderie than the intense psy­cho­log­i­cal iso­la­tion of the indi­vid­ual, which would make it tricky indeed to recre­ate any of its mem­o­rable images as proud group pho­tos. But if NASA’s poster design­ers can’t take on that mis­sion, nobody can.

via Boing Boing

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load 14 Free Posters from NASA That Depict the Future of Space Trav­el in a Cap­ti­vat­ing­ly Retro Style

NASA Lets You Down­load Free Posters Cel­e­brat­ing the 40th Anniver­sary of the Voy­ager Mis­sions

How the Icon­ic 1968 “Earth­rise” Pho­to Was Made: An Engross­ing Visu­al­iza­tion by NASA

NASA Presents “The Earth as Art” in a Free eBook and Free iPad App

Won­der­ful­ly Kitschy Pro­pa­gan­da Posters Cham­pi­on the Chi­nese Space Pro­gram (1962–2003)

“Glo­ry to the Con­querors of the Uni­verse!”: Pro­pa­gan­da Posters from the Sovi­et Space Race (1958–1963)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

In 1964, Isaac Asimov Predicts What the World Will Look Like Today: Self-Driving Cars, Video Calls, Fake Meats & More

Rochester Insti­tute of Tech­nol­o­gy, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Isaac Asi­mov’s read­ers have long found some­thing prophet­ic in his work, but where did Asi­mov him­self look when he want­ed to catch a glimpse of the future? In 1964 he found one at the New York World’s Fair, the vast exhi­bi­tion ded­i­cat­ed to “Man’s Achieve­ment on a Shrink­ing Globe in an Expand­ing Uni­verse” that his­to­ry now remem­bers as the most elab­o­rate expres­sion of the indus­tri­al and tech­no­log­i­cal opti­mism of Space Age Amer­i­ca. Despite the fan­ci­ful nature of some of the prod­ucts on dis­play, vis­i­tors first saw things there — com­put­ers, for instance — that would become essen­tial in a mat­ter of decades.

“What is to come, through the fair’s eyes at least, is won­der­ful,” Asi­mov writes in a piece on his expe­ri­ence at the fair for the New York TimesBut it all makes him won­der: “What will life be like, say, in 2014 A.D., 50 years from now? What will the World’s Fair of 2014 be like?” His spec­u­la­tions begin with the notion that “men will con­tin­ue to with­draw from nature in order to cre­ate an envi­ron­ment that will suit them bet­ter,” which they cer­tain­ly have, though not so much through the use of “elec­tro­lu­mi­nes­cent pan­els” that will make “ceil­ings and walls will glow soft­ly, and in a vari­ety of col­ors that will change at the touch of a push but­ton.” Still, all the oth­er screens near-con­stant­ly in use seem to pro­vide all the glow we need for the moment.

“Gad­getry will con­tin­ue to relieve mankind of tedious jobs,” Asi­mov pre­dicts, and so it has, though our kitchens have yet to evolve to the point of prepar­ing “ ‘automeals,’ heat­ing water and con­vert­ing it to cof­fee; toast­ing bread; fry­ing, poach­ing or scram­bling eggs, grilling bacon, and so on.” He hits clos­er to the mark when declar­ing that “robots will nei­ther be com­mon nor very good in 2014, but they will be in exis­tence.” He notes that IBM’s exhib­it at the World’s Fair had noth­ing about robots to show, but plen­ty about com­put­ers, “which are shown in all their amaz­ing com­plex­i­ty, notably in the task of trans­lat­ing Russ­ian into Eng­lish. If machines are that smart today, what may not be in the works 50 years hence? It will be such com­put­ers, much minia­tur­ized, that will serve as the ‘brains’ of robots.”

“The appli­ances of 2014 will have no elec­tric cords,” Asi­mov writes, and in the case of our all-impor­tant mobile phones, that has turned out to be at least half-true. But we still lack the “long-lived bat­ter­ies run­ning on radioiso­topes” pro­duced by “fis­sion-pow­er plants which, by 2014, will be sup­ply­ing well over half the pow­er needs of human­i­ty.” The real decade of the 2010s turned out to be more attached to the old ways, not least by cords and cables, than Asi­mov imag­ined. Even the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca has­n’t quite mas­tered the art of design­ing high­ways so that “long bus­es move on spe­cial cen­tral lanes” along them, let alone forms of ground trav­el that “take to the air a foot or two off the ground.”

But one advance in trans­porta­tion Asi­mov describes will sound famil­iar to those of us liv­ing in the 2010s: “Much effort will be put into the design­ing of vehi­cles with ‘Robot-brains,’ vehi­cles that can be set for par­tic­u­lar des­ti­na­tions and that will then pro­ceed there with­out inter­fer­ence by the slow reflex­es of a human dri­ver.” Indeed, we hear about few report­ed­ly immi­nent tech­nolo­gies these days as much as we hear about self-dri­ving cars and their poten­tial to get us where we’re going while we do oth­er things, such as engage in com­mu­ni­ca­tions that “will become sight-sound and you will see as well as hear the per­son you tele­phone,” on a screen used “not only to see the peo­ple you call but also for study­ing doc­u­ments and pho­tographs and read­ing pas­sages from books.”

Con­ver­sa­tions with the moon colonies, Asi­mov need­less­ly warns us, “will be a tri­fle uncom­fort­able” because of the 2.5‑second delay. But imme­di­ate­ly there­after comes the much more real­is­tic pre­dic­tion that “as for tele­vi­sion, wall screens will have replaced the ordi­nary set.” Still, “all is not rosy” in the world of 2014, whose pop­u­la­tion will have swelled to 6,500,000,000 — or 7,298,453,033, as it hap­pened. This has many impli­ca­tions for devel­op­ment, hous­ing, and even agri­cul­ture, though the “mock-turkey” and “pseu­dosteak” eat­en today has more to do with lifestyle than neces­si­ty. (“It won’t be bad at all,” Asi­mov adds, “if you can dig up those pre­mi­um prices.”)

Final­ly, and per­haps most impor­tant­ly, “the world of A.D. 2014 will have few rou­tine jobs that can­not be done bet­ter by some machine than by any human being. Mankind will there­fore have become large­ly a race of machine ten­ders.” Asi­mov fore­sees the need for a change in edu­ca­tion to accom­mo­date that, one hint­ed at even in Gen­er­al Elec­tric’s exhib­it in 1964, which “con­sists of a school of the future in which such present real­i­ties as closed-cir­cuit TV and pro­grammed tapes aid the teach­ing process.” His envi­sioned high-school cur­ricu­lum would have stu­dents mas­ter “the fun­da­men­tals of com­put­er tech­nol­o­gy” and get them “trained to per­fec­tion in the use of the com­put­er lan­guage.”

But even with all these devel­op­ments, “mankind will suf­fer bad­ly from the dis­ease of bore­dom, a dis­ease spread­ing more wide­ly each year and grow­ing in inten­si­ty.” The “seri­ous men­tal, emo­tion­al and soci­o­log­i­cal con­se­quences” of that will make psy­chi­a­try an impor­tant med­ical spe­cial­ty, and “the lucky few who can be involved in cre­ative work of any sort will be the true elite of mankind, for they alone will do more than serve a machine.” Though Asi­mov may have been sur­prised by what we’ve come up with in the quar­ter-cen­tu­ry since his death, as well as what we haven’t come up with, he would sure­ly have under­stood the sorts of anx­i­eties that now beset us in the future-turned-present in which we live. But even giv­en all the ways in which his pre­dic­tions in 1964 have proven more or less cor­rect, he did miss one big thing: there was no World’s Fair in 2014.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Isaac Asi­mov Laments the “Cult of Igno­rance” in the Unit­ed States: A Short, Scathing Essay from 1980

Arthur C. Clarke Pre­dicts in 2001 What the World Will Look By Decem­ber 31, 2100

Arthur C. Clarke Pre­dicts the Future in 1964 … And Kind of Nails It

Wal­ter Cronkite Imag­ines the Home of the 21st Cen­tu­ry … Back in 1967

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Blade Runner Getting Adapted into a New Anime Series, Produced by Cowboy Bebop Animator Shinichiro Watanabe

You may remem­ber, in the run-up to the the­atri­cal release of Blade Run­ner 2049 last Octo­ber, that three short pre­quels appeared on the inter­net. Black Out 2022 (above), the most dis­cussed install­ment of that minia­ture tril­o­gy, stood out both aes­thet­i­cal­ly and cul­tur­al­ly: direct­ed by famed Japan­ese ani­ma­tor Shinichi­ro Watan­abe, it expand­ed the real­i­ty of Blade Run­ner through a form that has drawn so much from that uni­verse over the pre­vi­ous 35 years. “I just want an ani­mat­ed bladerun­ner series now,” says the cur­rent top-rat­ed com­ment below that video, “this was mag­i­cal.” And so, a year lat­er, the answer to the prayer of that com­menter (and clear­ly many oth­er view­ers besides) has appeared on the hori­zon: a Japan­ese ani­mat­ed series called Blade Run­ner — Black Lotus.

Over­seen by Watan­abe in the pro­duc­er role and direct­ed by Ken­ji Kamiya­ma and Shin­ji Ara­ma­ki, the lat­ter of whom worked in the art depart­ment on Black Out 2022, the new series will take place in 2032, between the events of the short and those of Blade Run­ner 2049.

“It will also include some ‘estab­lished char­ac­ters’ from the Blade Run­ner uni­verse, but that could mean all sorts of things,” writes The A.V. Club’s Sam Barsan­ti. “Har­ri­son Ford’s Rick Deckard would already be in hid­ing at that point after father­ing the mir­a­cle repli­cant baby, so it could be about him going off on some cool guy adven­tures, but Deckard doesn’t exact­ly seem like a guy who goes on cool guy adven­tures. Ryan Gosling’s K prob­a­bly wasn’t ‘born’ yet, since he’s a Nexus‑9 repli­cant and those weren’t cre­at­ed until lat­er in the 2030s, but we don’t know for sure.”

Per­haps sup­port­ing char­ac­ters from both movies, “like Edward James Olmos’ Gaff (he might still be an LAPD cop) or Jared Leto’s Nian­der Wal­lace (he’s def­i­nite­ly hang­ing around, being an evil rich guy),” will show up. What­ev­er hap­pens, the thir­teen episodes of Blade Run­ner — Black Lotus will cer­tain­ly have no small amount of both famil­iar­i­ty and sur­prise in store for fans of Blade Run­ner, as well as those of Watan­abe’s oth­er work. That goes espe­cial­ly for his philo­soph­i­cal space boun­ty-hunter series Cow­boy Bebop, itself the source mate­r­i­al for a new live-action tele­vi­sion series on Adult Swim, who will air Blade Run­ner — Black Lotus at the same time as it’s streamed on ani­me site Crunchyroll.com. No release date has thus far been announced, but odds are the show’s debut will hap­pen some time in 2019 — the per­fect year for it, as every­one thrilling to the prospect of more Blade Run­ner already knows.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Three New Pre­quels Get You Ready to Watch Blade Run­ner 2049

Watch the New Ani­me Pre­quel to Blade Run­ner 2049, by Famed Japan­ese Ani­ma­tor Shinichi­ro Watan­abe

How Rid­ley Scott’s Blade Run­ner Illu­mi­nates the Cen­tral Prob­lem of Moder­ni­ty

The Exis­ten­tial Phi­los­o­phy of Cow­boy Bebop, the Cult Japan­ese Ani­me Series, Explored in a Thought­ful Video Essay

“The Long Tomor­row”: Dis­cov­er Mœbius’ Hard-Boiled Detec­tive Com­ic That Inspired Blade Run­ner (1975)

When Japan’s Top Ani­ma­tors Made a Thrilling Cyber­punk Com­mer­cial for Irish Beer: Watch Last Orders (1997)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Mary Shelley’s Handwritten Manuscript of Frankenstein: This Is “Ground Zero of Science Fiction,” Says William Gibson

Who invent­ed cyber­punk, that vivid sub­genre of sci­ence fic­tion at the inter­sec­tion of “high tech and low life”? Some put forth the name of William Gib­son, whose 1984 nov­el Neu­ro­mancer crys­tal­lized many of the ele­ments of cyber­punk that still char­ac­ter­ize it today, even if it was­n’t the first exam­ple of all of them. And who, for that mat­ter, invent­ed sci­ence fic­tion? Bri­an Ald­iss, a sci-fi writer and a respect­ed schol­ar of the tra­di­tion, argued for Mary Shel­ley, author of Franken­stein. “The sem­i­nal point about Franken­stein,” Ald­iss writes, “is that its cen­tral char­ac­ter makes a delib­er­ate deci­sion. He suc­ceeds in cre­at­ing life only when he throws away dusty old author­i­ties and turns to mod­ern exper­i­ments in the lab­o­ra­to­ry.”

In oth­er words, Vic­tor Franken­stein uses sci­ence, which accord­ing to Ald­iss had not pro­pelled a nar­ra­tive before Franken­stein’s pub­li­ca­tion in 1818. The nov­el came out, in an edi­tion of just 500 three-vol­ume copies, under the full title Franken­stein; or, The Mod­ern Prometheus, and with­out any author’s name. Shel­ley’s deci­sion to pub­lish her work anony­mous­ly, with a pref­ace by her hus­band Per­cy Bysshe Shel­ley, led read­ers to assume that the poet him­self had writ­ten the book. Though he had­n’t, he had accom­pa­nied the then-18-year-old Mary Shel­ley on the trip to Switzer­land where she came up with the sto­ry. There, kept indoors by foul weath­er at Lake Geneva’s Vil­la Dio­dati, the cou­ple and Lord Byron, whom they had come to vis­it, binge-read ghost sto­ries to one anoth­er until they decid­ed to each write an orig­i­nal one.

It took Shel­ley some time to come up with an idea, but when inspi­ra­tion final­ly struck, it brought on an unig­nor­able vision. “I saw the pale stu­dent of unhal­lowed arts kneel­ing beside the thing he had put togeth­er,” Shel­ley writes in her intro­duc­tion to the non-anony­mous 1831 edi­tion of Franken­stein.  “I saw the hideous phan­tasm of a man stretched out, and then, on the work­ing of some pow­er­ful engine, show signs of life, and stir with an uneasy, half vital motion.” She thus began to write her sto­ry, first in short form and lat­er, with Per­cy’s encour­age­ment, expand­ing it into a nov­el. A few days ago, Gib­son retweet­ed a page of one of Shel­ley’s hand­writ­ten man­u­scripts, adding only, “This is, lit­er­al­ly, ground zero of sci­ence fic­tion.”

The orig­i­nal tweet­er of the image, some­one called Lau­ra N, describes it as “the first page of Franken­stein,” although its text page appears in the pub­lished book as the first page of its eigh­teenth chap­ter. She also links to the Shel­ley-God­win Archive, home of dig­i­tized man­u­scripts of Per­cy Bysshe Shel­ley, Mary Woll­stonecraft Shel­ley, her father William God­win, and her moth­er Mary Woll­stonecraft. There, as we’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured on Open Cul­ture, you can trace the evo­lu­tion of Franken­stein by view­ing all the extant pages of all its extant man­u­scripts. A full two cen­turies after its pub­li­ca­tion, Shel­ley’s nov­el con­tin­ues to fas­ci­nate, and its cen­tral ideas and char­ac­ters have become famil­iar to read­ers — and even non-read­ers — around the world. And in the view of Ald­iss, Gib­son, and many oth­ers besides, this sto­ry of a mon­ster’s cre­ation also brought to life a whole new cul­tur­al uni­verse.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mary Shelley’s Hand­writ­ten Man­u­scripts of Franken­stein Now Online for the First Time

Read a Huge Anno­tat­ed Online Edi­tion of Franken­stein: A Mod­ern Way to Cel­e­brate the 200th Anniver­sary of Mary Shelley’s Clas­sic Nov­el

Read­ing Mary Shelley’s Franken­stein on Its 200th Anniver­sary: An Ani­mat­ed Primer to the Great Mon­ster Sto­ry & Tech­nol­o­gy Cau­tion­ary Tale

Dis­cov­ered: Lord Byron’s Copy of Franken­stein Signed by Mary Shel­ley

How Chris Marker’s Rad­i­cal Sci­Fi Film, La Jetée, Changed the Life of Cyber­punk Prophet William Gib­son

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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