Category: Uncategorized

by James Wallace Harris, Monday, August 28, 2017

The Twilight Zone is the classic science fiction television show that ran five seasons on CBS from 1959-1964 producing 156 black and white episodes. Because each episode was a standalone story, the series makes a great laboratory for dissecting storytelling. The overall quality of TZ writing is very high, with many memorable episodes, but it’s also true the show had its clunkers.

I recently bought The Twilight Zone:  The Complete Series Blu-ray on Amazon for $64.99, but that price changes almost daily and can run much higher. I also snagged a copy of The Twilight Zone Companion Second Edition by Marc Scott Zicree. However, you can stream The Twilight Zone on CBS All Access, Netflix, Hulu, and Amazon. (Netflix and Amazon only have four seasons.) And Wikipedia has a list of all the shows with links to essays on each. Each episode entry on Wikipedia often provides more information than the book I bought, but that volume makes a handy companion to keep by my TV recliner. I bought the Blu-ray set because of the glowing reviews about pristine transfers and all the extras.

Modern television fans (meaning young folks) might prefer studying Game of Thrones or Breaking Bad for their exceptionally high-quality storytelling and addictiveness. But those stories are so huge and complex that I can’t grasp their bigger structures. I figured I’d be better off analyzing tiny 22-minute tales. This coincides with my rediscovery of short story reading. I’ve been listening to The Collected Stories of Philip K. Dick and Untouched by Human Hands by Robert Sheckley and I’m amazed at how dramatic and compelling their stories were from their early career in the 1950s, doing so much with so little.

Last night I watched two TZ episodes, “Nothing in the Dark” which featured Gladys Cooper as an old woman afraid of dying, and Robert Redford playing a beat cop that gets shot on her doorstep. The story was told with one set and three actors. What amazed me was how much was conveyed without putting it into the dialog. The old woman wouldn’t leave her basement apartment in a condemned tenement because she feared meeting Mr. Death. Watching makes you imagine her life and how she lived. In one scene, she sits on the edge of a dirty bathtub and you question how often she bathes. Cooper’s face is old and wrinkled, and you wonder just how long she’s evaded death.

And of course, we learn her fear of death is unfounded, not because Robert Redford isn’t Mr. Death trying to trick her, but because her death is peaceful. This is one of the episodes of The Twilight Zone that stuck in my memory, but I only remembered Robert Redford being shot, lying in the snow in his dark police uniform. However, I’m not sure when I first saw it. My family often watched TZ together in the late 1950s and early 1960s and I’m positive I remember some shows from when I was young. But I think I first saw this one in the 1970s as a rerun.

The second episode I watched was “A Quality of Mercy” about a squad of American soldiers on August 6, 1945, the day before the first A-bomb was dropped. Again, the set was sparse, with just a handful of actors, mainly Dean Stockwell and Albert Salmi. (It did have a couple short vivid scenes with Leonard Nimoy without his Mr. Spock ears.) Salmi is the wise sergeant that’s war weary, leading squad of men that’s tired of killing and being killed. This comes across amazingly well via limited dialog and acting expressions. Their short scenes recall so many war movies that their cliché lines feel like intensely distilled encryptions of dozens of great war movies. The plot of the story involves a green officer, Lieutenant Katell played by Stockwell, wanting to get into the fighting before the war is over. The fantasy of the show begins when he drops his field glasses. After picking them up we see Dean Stockwell made up as Lieutenant Yamuri with a squad of Japanese soldiers attacking the same position now held by Americans. The show’s title comes from The Merchant of Venice, “The quality of mercy is not strained, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It blesseth him that gives and him that takes” by William Shakespeare.

Both shows might feel like slight nothings to the average 21st-century television watcher. 30-minute television is only used for sitcoms today. We need an hour for drama, and we’ve become so addicted to continuing story dramas that we binge on them hour after hour. So it might be hard to take seriously anything that begins and ends so swiftly.

Do we need all those hours to tell a good story with a soulful insight? Wouldn’t Ernest Hemingway have written the seven-volumes of A Song of Ice and Fire in one-volume of about 400 pages? I can’t finish Proust’s epic work, but I do find a few paragraphs now and then worth contemplation. The Twilight Zone isn’t Proust or even Hemingway, but it is as good as The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction or Galaxy was back in the 1950s. I believe The Twilight Zone captures the Happy Days decade more faithfully than any show from its era. That’s because it took 156 different snapshots. I suppose if I had access to other anthologies shows of the time I’d give them the same credit.

I’m not the only one remembering The Twilight Zone:

• The Enduring Legacy of The Twilight Zone – The New Atlantis
• This Day in Twilight Zone History – SyFy
• The 10 Greatest Twilight Zone Episodes – CBS
• How the Twilight Zone Predicted Our Paranoid Present – The Atlantic
• Five Episodes of The Twilight Zone That Are Only Slightly More Horrifying Than Our Current Reality – io9
• The Twilight Zone Can Make You A Better Person, Really – Wired
• How a War-Weary Vet Created The Twilight Zone – The Daily Beast
• The Twilight Zone – Mental Floss
• The Five Themes of The Twilight Zone – Arlen Schumer

JWH

 

 

by James Wallace Harris, Wednesday, August 23, 2017

[Reprinted from Book Riot with minor revisions]

To encourage discourse at the online science fiction book club I moderate, I began thinking about what we talk about when we talk about science fiction. At the broadest level, we talk about storytelling and writing, which is part of all fiction. At the next level, we discuss how we felt about experiencing a book. Essentially, this level is about entertainment value and doesn’t directly deal with science fiction either. At the third level, we compare the science fictional elements in the story to science fiction we’ve read in the past. Most science fictional concepts are unoriginal, recursive, and depend on previous science fiction. At the final level, the level where we actually talk about science fiction is where we examine the original science fictional speculation in a story.

It’s rather hard to write original science fiction after H. G. Wells and Olaf Stapledon, even though I’m quite sure they cribbed their inspiration from others, too. If you read enough science fiction, you’ll discover most science fictional concepts have been around for a long time. Many go back at least a hundred years, some for hundreds of years, and few for thousands. If you compare science fiction, fantasy, and religion you’ll find many overlapping core questions about reality. Eventually, you’ll see how science fiction evolved out of myths, religion, and fantasy. Science fiction’s current claim to distinction is it explores far out concepts that might be possible with the aid of science and technology.

What we talk about when we talk about science fiction is the possibility of making changes to reality. Science fiction is a sliding window of speculation. Once upon a time, science fiction theorized how humans could build flying machines. Now that we have American Airlines it’s no longer science fiction. It’s hard to write a new story about the first humans to land on the Moon after Armstrong and Aldrin left their footprints there.

Once I began thinking about what we talk about when we talk about science fiction, I realized it involved a very limited number of topics explored in infinite variations. What differentiates our science fictional hopes from the desires reflected in religion and fantasy is the belief that we can make our dreams come true using brain power rather than depending on the miracles of God or the magic of the paranormal. Science fiction is all about hubris.

When we talk about science fiction we’re mainly talking about these subjects:

• The possibility of other worlds
• Life on those worlds
• Travel between worlds
• Other intelligent beings like us
• Are some aliens superior to us
• Making ourselves immortal
• How humans can evolve to be different
• How we can reprogram ourselves (genetics, cyborgs)
• Creating intelligent life (robots, AI, artificial life)
• Creating a utopian society (or failing at one)
• New inventions and their impact
• Travel in time
• Alternate histories

Astronomers are discovering new extrasolar worlds every day. So that’s becoming less science fictional. It’s still within the realm of science fiction to speculate what those worlds might contain. Mathematically, we assume life is possible on many of them. We’ve been theorizing about other worlds and other life forms at least since the ancient Greeks and probably earlier. Aren’t stories about gods, angels, and other metaphysical beings of religions and myths just historical residue of speculations about intelligent life from off-Earth worlds from the far past?

Isn’t any discussion about God or gods really a discussion about intelligent aliens? All science fiction has done is relocate theories of Heaven to more realistic sites in the galaxy. Religion has been speculating how it might be possible for our lives to go on existing after we die. Aren’t all the ideas about scientific immortality in science fiction just a continuation of those speculations?

When we talk about becoming immortal using science fiction and we dream of copying our brains to robot or clone bodies, aren’t we just participating in the latest speculation of how life-after-death could happen? Hasn’t that speculation been going on since our species began to think and talk? Could it have been science fiction when the authors of the Old Testament theorized that a powerful alien being would reanimate our bodies after the end of time? Aren’t myths and religious beliefs really science fiction that’s gone stale from learning too much about how reality really works?

Once you realize that what we talk about when we talk about science fiction is a discussion of our hopes and fears about the future and how we might change reality for better or worse? Hasn’t such speculation always existed? Why is old speculation called myths and new speculation called science fiction? Will 20th-century science fiction one day be remembered as myths?

Most science fiction stories we talk about today are really adventure stories set in older science fictional speculations. For example, Star Wars, probably the most famous of all science fiction stories, has no original speculation about reality. Star Wars uses science fictional speculations from the 1940s and 1950s to create a sprawling setting for conventional tales of adventure, romance, empire, rebellion, war, and aristocracy.

Aurora by Kim Stanley Robinson and The Three-Body Problem by Liu Cixin are examples of current science fictional speculation about the possibilities of humans traveling to other stellar systems or aliens from other stellar systems coming to visit us. Infomocracy by Malka Older is science fictional speculation about creating a new kind of democracy.

What we talk about when we talk about science fiction is whether or not the author has imagined something that could be made possible that doesn’t currently exist. Either good or bad. To be original the author must come up with something new or a new twist on an old idea. I thought Charlie Jane Anders had something new to say about the nature of science fiction and fantasy in All the Birds in the Sky (which won the Nebula Award and was nominated for the Hugo this year). Isn’t fantasy v. science fiction really magic v. science, and isn’t that deeply psychological? How much of our polarized society is due to a split between believers in magic and science?

Isn’t what we talk about when we talk about science fiction really a psychological reflection of our own desires and fears for the future? Most bookworms read to escape. They want to immerse their minds in an old-fashion form of virtual reality. I believe the hardcore science fiction fan is a reader seeking new ideas about what might be possible in reality. They expect writers to imagine possible futures that no one has imagined before.

As readers and book club members we want to talk about those possibilities.

by James Wallace Harris, Sunday, August 20, 2017

I’ve always been addicted to magazines. I even worked in a periodicals department at a university library for six years. Magazines used to provide reading content that was longer than a newspaper story but shorter than a novel. A good magazine essay might take more time to read than viewing a whole episode of the evening news. Reading some of the longest articles in The New Yorker or The Atlantic could take more time than watching a movie. However, as magazines compete more with television and the internet the content of each piece became shorter, no longer than the average crap or restless idle moment of internet boredom.

Even though I subscribe to a number of print magazines, get over 200 magazines via Texture, and subscribe to the online edition of The New York Times, I spend 90% of my periodical reading time on Flipboard.

Today I read “When Silicon Valley Took Over Journalism” by Franklin Foer at The Atlantic. Foer was the editor of The New Republic and worked with Chris Hughes, a rich Silicon Valley entrepreneur to save the historic magazine from the internet reader. The article comes from his forthcoming book World Without Mind: The Existential Threat of Big Tech.

Foer described what I’ve been seeing and wondering about already. Online journalism is not the same as the old print journalism I grew up with. Foer describes how writers and editors must write pieces that get massive hits on the web. Magazines of old had readers and subscribers and were sold as issues or subscriptions. Magazines were like albums, and today’s online essays are like buying hit songs on iTunes. To generate ad revenue essays must attract eyeballs. Most readers find their way to essays via Google searches or sharing on Facebook. So writers, editors, and publisher fine-tune each piece to get attention, and even the most serious pieces of journalism must act as click-bait.

Everything depends on unresistible titles. Writers write what titillate people into reading, rather than writing what people need to be reading. Reading Flipboard is like watching a thousand sharks being fed a barge of chum. Only the biggest creatures get fed.

Reading off my iPhone and iPad has ruined me for reading paper copies of magazines in the same way that they ruined me for reading newspapers. About once a year I’ll buy a copy of The New York Times for nostalgia’s sake. But it’s uncomfortable to hold, stains my fingers, and is stressful to my eyes. Last year I subscribed to National Geographic for the same nostalgic reasons, remember the magazine being visually stunning. Now, their printed images all look small compared to my 28″ 4K monitor and dull compared to my brightly lit iPad. Because I wanted to see the photographs enlarged, I subscribed to the online edition this year, and the pictures wow me, but I seldom read at my monitor even though it’s the absolute best way I’ve found to consume National Geographic content. (I just wish they’d stop their constant nagging to subscribe when I’m already logged in.)

My most common and convenient way I read periodicals now is on my iPhone 6s Plus. I always have my phone with me, and that convenience has made me addicted to reading by iPhone. I also read The New York Times on my iPhone, and listen to audio books from Audible on it too. It’s not the web that has changed my reading habits but the smartphone.

Foer warns us against the dangers of high tech journalism. I’m trying to go back to reading whole magazines, but it’s hard. Some magazines I loved like Discover and Popular Science are now laid out to like web pages, with countless short articles vying for my attention. Their tiny print and cramped layout are just too painful. I won’t re-subscribe. Scientific American is less frantic, an album of half-a-dozen long articles, but I’ve been ruined by the buy-a-hit-song mentality.

About a decade ago I gave up all printed periodicals for environmental reasons. Then a few years ago I decided to try print magazines again as an experiment to see what I’m missing from online reading. Their inflexible layout discourages me from reading them, and smartphone reading is now my habit. I’m letting all my subscriptions lapse except for The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Asimov’s Science Fiction and Analog. I’ve just resubscribed to these mags in print because I miss their covers, want to refer back to them, and never could develop the habit of reading their short stories when I subscribed to the digital editions.

And then there’s the sad fact that most non-fiction content in printed periodicals is available on the web for free. Foer describes the nightmare of trying to make money publishing journalism this way. To be honest, though, I resist all their money making efforts. I know online magazines need to make a profit but I find their methods annoying. Which is why I subscribe to Texture. My $15 a month is a contribution towards maintaining journalism. But it’s not the solution either. Texture doesn’t allow me to save and share articles like Flipboard. When I read something good in Texture I go to my computer, find the article and then share it on Twitter and Facebook, and save it to Evernote and Instapaper.

I wish Texture had a web edition. When I read for writing inspiration I’m sitting at the computer. I’m wondering if I shouldn’t train myself to read off the monitor. I tend to quickly churn through content via Flipboard. One of the complaints Foer noted was content was becoming homogenized. I’ve noticed that too. Each day I see several lists of the-greatest-books-ever to read, many kinds of advice on happiness, productivity, retirement, investments, etc.

I should read, take notes, save essays, write reviews, and become more interactive in my reading. I should integrate periodical reading into both studying and memorizing. One thing I’ve noticed from hyper-reading Flipboard is the repetitive nature of story ideas. When that dentist killed Cecil the lion it generated 3.2 million stories on the internet. I sometimes do that myself when blogging, writing essays about what other people are writing about. Internet journalism gets readers into subject frenzies and we can’t let go. I’m not sure if that’s good. I’m thinking I should be more organized and careful about what I read. Reading from the monitor instead of the smartphone might help in that. I thought returning to printed magazines would help, but it didn’t. I need to be able to save and share, and photocopying and mailing just too inconvenient.

I have friends that also compulsively read Flipboard daily. Some of them have started to wonder if it’s a bad habit or at least too much of a time-waster. I think Flipboard has found an addictive way to read the news. Whether it’s a negative addiction or positive addition, I don’t know. Would we agree with a nineteenth-century person who complained the telephone has ruined face-to-face communication?

JWH

 

 

by James Wallace Harris, Saturday, August 12, 2017

One of the major causes of climate change denial is self-interest. Owners of oil, gas, and coal reserves have trillions of dollars in potential wealth they don’t want to give it up. These people will do anything to protect those riches, including intensive propaganda campaigns against science. So any solution should involve ways to compensate their loss of income.

The meat industry is also a major contributor to greenhouse gases. If all the lands that are currently used to produce meat were converted into forests it would be a significant step towards solving climate change. Of course, it would be unfair expect meat producers to sacrifice their wealth for public good. What we need are alternative income sources for each industry that would be hurt by economic disruption required to stabilize the climate.

The meat industry could be paid to not raise cattle equal to what they currently make. But it would be better for the environment if the land was returned to nature, and especially to forest ecologies. Can we imagine alternative economic activities for those landowners?

This got me to thinking about how to commercialize nature so it profited humans but also profited plants, animals, and the biosphere. Many people love nature, so I wondered if it would be possible to build planned communities embedded in forests. So instead of neat lawns, they’d have unfettered nature.

Is it possible to build houses that produced their own energy and coexisted with nature? Such houses would need to be fire and storm proof, could handle trees falling on them, last for centuries, be warm and cool as needed, not be tied to sewers and street systems, have access to water, safe from tiny to large critters, impervious to the elements,  and be appealing to live in? Plus, could such communities provide jobs for its inhabitants?

I would assume planned forest communities would have low human population densities. Maybe one family per 10-100 acres. The inhabitants could become caretakers, observers, scientists, researchers, users, and lovers of the forest.

I wonder if agriculture or minimal horticulture could be embedded into the forest ecosystem without major impact to the ecosystem. Such forest communities could support tourism, camping, hunting, fishing, bird watching, wildlife study, and so on. Also, if these communities were closed to being self-sufficient means their inhabitants wouldn’t need large incomes. We don’t need billionaires living in the forest, but people who require little economic success because they want other kinds of rewards from life.

[Photo is one of a series from “Eco-Friendly Forest Communities.”]

There is already a movement called community forestry where people volunteer to maintain a forest. Can you imagine living inside a forest? And there are already countless indigenous communities living in forests around the world. We can learn from them and should protect their way of life. The World Bank already does this. Urban living can theoretically be very energy efficient, but I think a significant portion of our population are tired of city life and might want to return to nature.

What appealed to me while meditating on this idea this morning was the challenge of constructing a modern home that fits harmoniously into the forest. How could we design back-to-nature communities that benefit the global ecosystem yet expand the local economic system? The push-back to solving climate change comes from people wanting to protect their wealth. Is it possible to generate compensatory wealth, and even generate new wealth from an eco-social-capitalistic system?

Our problem is a failure of imagination. Too many people can only imagine things being the way they were. We literally have an infinity of possibilities. Maybe even an infinity of better choices.

JWH

 

 

by James Wallace Harris, Wednesday, August 2, 2017

Would you do anything if you were sitting on a deck chair of the Titanic and just finished a science fiction novel about an unsinkable ship crashing into an iceberg?

When I was young I was constantly told that science fiction was silly kids’ stuff. I refused to believe that. I loved science fiction and wanted it to be important, valuable, and even educational. I made all kinds of rationalizations that science fiction taught people to prepare for the future – to avoid extrapolated pitfalls or build what we imagined possible.

Was I fooling myself? I know perfectly well that most science fiction fans read for fun, not enlightenment. I was taught serious literature provided deep insights into human existence and genre fiction was escapism. Is reading science fiction swallowing the blue pill and reading serious literature taking the red pill?

Can fiction ever describe reality in a useful way like science? Literary writers work to describe their experiences in novels. How close can they get to recording reality realistically? Other writers use fiction to illustrate their philosophical observations on existence. How accurately can they paint in words? Are novels ever like photography was to paintings? And what about science fiction with settings of time and space entirely imagined? Can science fiction ever make observations that we can validate and use?

I like to believe science fiction is a cognitive tool for examining the edges of reality. Of course, science fiction is usually a form of entertainment that plays at the edges of reality. Religion used to be a cognitive tool for exploring those edges. Now it’s the opium of the masses. I worry that science fiction is becoming fictional fentanyl. Humans have an exceedingly difficult time accepting reality. Often, we want far more than what reality offers, even though our reality is infinitely rich. Analyzing science fiction and our favorite science fictional fantasies can reveal our subjective desires with external possibilities. Such psychoanalysis should reveal what percentage of our map of reality is based on delusions.

I think every time we read a book we should ask ourselves: Are we taking the red pill or the blue pill?

I’m going to illustrate this idea by examining We Are Legion (We Are Bob) by Dennis E. Taylor. I chose it because it was new and popular. It has garnered 32,675 ratings since 9/20/16 with the average score of 4.7 out of 5 stars (as of 8/2/17). Some readers will think I’m attacking We Are Legion (We Are Bob) in this essay even though I rated it 5 stars at Goodreads and Audible. The book is no literary masterpiece, but very entertaining Sci-Fi. I want to dissect why. This might come across as critical – it’s not. I just want show how reading Taylor’s book can be a blue pill or red pill activity.

Ever since The Skylark of Space by E. E. “Doc” Smith we’ve been too enthusiastic about our science fictional hopes. We assume given enough time and technology we can make anything come true. Can we even tell reality from fantasy anymore when it comes to science fiction? Doesn’t the mania for Star Wars border on science fictional porn? Are we people who can’t grow up because of our childhood addiction to science fiction?

Back in the 1950s and 1960s, we had nightmares about WWIII and nuclear annihilation, although those horrors were sometimes relieved by hopeful fantasies of the high frontier. Neither futures were inevitable. Now we live with the near surety of the collapses of the economy and ecosystem. Wealth inequality will probably destroy our civilization well before climate change can. Yet, we ignore both and party like it’s 1999. Does a choice of apocalypses on the menu even matter?

Why aren’t we doing something? We know we’re on the friggin’ Titanic. We know we have a date with an iceberg. Is watching Star Wars sequels on our iPads while we lounge in our deck chairs an acceptance of predestination?

WARNING: THIS IS NOT A BOOK REVIEW. THIS ESSAY CONTAIN SPOILERS!!!

First off, let me say that I thoroughly enjoyed We Are Legion (We Are Bob) and finished it quickly because I was always anxious to get back to the story. This novel was fun like Galaxy Quest the movie, or Ready Player One, the book, both of which lovingly relish the science fiction subculture. It doesn’t have much of a plot, sort of a serial problem-solving story that made The Martian so much fun. We Are Legion (We Are Bob) is funny and light, a serious story told in a non-serious way, but not absurdly zany like Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I would consider this novel the perfect how-would-I-do-it fantasy for science fiction fans. Just replace Bob with your first name. I would love to have Jimiverse adventures.

Now I want to get out my literary scalpels and dissect We Are Legion (We Are Bob) into its component parts. I’m sure some folks will consider me kicking the crap out of the book, but that’s not my intention. My goal is to explore how I felt about science fiction when I was young and compare it with how I feel about science fiction now.

I’m trying to compare Jim-2017 with how I remember Jim-1967. Fifty years have changed me. I’m also comparing Science-Fiction-2017 with how I remember Science-Fiction-1967. And let me up front about something. I don’t think science fiction is the same for everyone, nor do I think all the views of science fiction today are any different from all the views of science fiction back then. I’m looking at my own view of science fiction and exploring how it’s changed over my lifetime.

Even though I found We Are Legion (We Are Bob) very entertaining, I didn’t find it very strong on the speculative science fiction scale. I’ve always made a distinction between science fiction as I define it and how other fans define the genre. What I call science fiction is speculation about possibilities, which I believe is different from entertainment that uses science fiction for story setting. The difference is subtle. Think of it as traveling back in time to the Jurassic and visiting Jurassic Park. The whole time I was reading We Are Legion (We Are Bob) I realized I was on a science fiction thrill ride. Fun, escapist, but little I can claim as red pill understanding of reality. However, it might say a lot about how I’d want my blue pill to affect me.

I’m impressed with what Dennis E. Taylor created with We Are Legion (We Are Bob). Any introverted science fiction fan would probably sell their soul to be Bob. Hell, if you offered them sex with a hundred of their most desirable sex objects or life as Bob, most would opt to live the life of Bob. Taylor has imagined a science fictional heaven. Which makes We Are Legion (We Are Bob) a perfect example of blue pill science fiction. Here are just some of the SF ideas it uses:

• Suspended animation to get into the future. In this case cryogenic freezing. The beginning reminds me a bit of The Door into Summer by Robert A. Heinlein.
• Brain downloading to a machine. A popular topic in and out of science fiction.
• Observing reality with a digital consciousness
• Intelligent space probes/spaceships
• Interstellar flight at sublight speeds
• War between intelligent machines
• Von Neuman probes
• First contact
• FTL communication
• Prime directive
• Berserker machines
• End of humanity on Earth
• Migration to the stars
• Space battles
• Xenocide
• Colonizing planets
• Terraforming
• Uplifting new species
• 3D Printers

Science-Fiction-2017 is far slicker than Science-Fiction-1967. The people who create science fiction stories and movies know they are in the entertainment business. When I was growing up, most of them knew they were in the entertainment business too, but some of them worked as crazy-ass philosophers or sociologists (Heinlein, Le Guin, Dick, Brunner, Russ). They lacked the authority or degrees to be serious intellectuals, but they had plenty of theories to promote. I see Kim Stanley Robinson as a philosophical descendant of Heinlein and Clarke.

Dennis E. Taylor obvious loves science fiction. He’s an older fan, claiming he didn’t start writing until his late fifties. He’s a computer guy and his story is equally inspired by Wired, Silicon Valley, and SF writers like Cory Doctorow, Ernest Cline, and John Scalzi. And that’s part of the problem with writing science fiction today – it must compete with the legacy of older science fiction and with all the young Turks. We Are Legion (We Are Bob) is not speculative heavy like Too Like the Lightning by Ada Palmer, cutting edge like Lix Cixin’s Remembrance of Earth’s Past, or narratively innovative like the Ancillary books by Ann Leckie. Taylor is fun like Becky Chambers’ Galactic Commons stories. Taylor reminds me of John Scalzi more than he does Kim Stanley Robinson.

One of the major plot conundrums of science fiction is how to get a person from our time into the future. Sleep is often the answer. One of my favorite novels is Heinlein’s The Door into Summer which uses “cold sleep” to get Dan Davis into the future. Taylor uses a modern variation of this idea by getting Bob to buy a contract to have his head frozen when he dies. In a way, this is like Professor Jameson stories – he had to die first.

Strangely, Taylor gets Bob into the future not to explore the future, but to get him the technology to be downloaded. From there on out in the story, Taylor does not speculate about future technology but merely uses slightly refined current day technology like 3D printers.

I must wonder if Dennis Taylor is an introvert because this story is very introverted. Most of the characters are copies of the original character. They live in VR rooms and manipulate the outside world. I do that myself in a way since I stay mostly at home and observe the world and reality at a distance. Each version of Bob is different. That I found troublesome since each is a program that is copied from a backup of a previous Bob. Taylor said earlier drafts of the novel had them the same but it didn’t work as fiction. But Taylor doesn’t give us adequate reasons in the story for each Bob to be different. This is where I started dissecting the story.

Downloading human minds into computers has been a hot topic for decades. There are scientists who study the idea. Personally, I think the idea is about as real as dying and going to heaven. But let’s give the idea a chance. Taylor only makes a minimum effort to help us imagine what being a computer program would be like. That’s unfortunate. Obviously, he believes readers want to get on with the adventure of exploring space and saving humanity. I didn’t – I wanted more about digital reincarnation.

I wanted Taylor to speculate about living without a biological body. Without chemicals (hormones) would we have emotions? Wouldn’t a digitized version of ourselves be an emotionless thinker with only vague memories of once being alive? And what would drive our thoughts if we didn’t have emotions?

Here’s my problem. I believe real science fiction must be realistic speculation. Star Wars science fiction is escapist Disneyland fairy tales exactly equal to religious fantasies of the past. In other words, promises of things that will not happen. Religion has always promised life after death, and downloading minds is just another empty pipedream.

Of course, my assumption about how reality works stops the story cold. Here’s the problem for current science fiction writers. More and more science is showing that our minds are 100% tied to our bodies, and more than likely, our bodies are going to be 100% tied to our Earthly environment. Aurora by Kim Stanley Robinson is an excellent exploration of the second part of that statement.

This is where Jim-1967 differs from Jim-2017. Jim-1967 had a lot of ideas about the future that have since turned out unscientific and impossible. The trouble is Science-Fiction-2017 keeps believing in those ideas.

I feel somewhere between 1967 and 2017 science fiction forked into two branches. One branch is entertainment science fiction that most people love, and the other branch is speculative fiction that seriously tries to understand the limits of reality that science has yet to define. We Are Legion (We Are Bob) belongs to the entertainment branch, and I believe is a very entertaining story for people who love that kind of science fiction. I believe it only pays the slightest lip service to the other branch. Is that because Taylor wants to be a successful writer and attract hordes of readers?

Or am I wrong, and Taylor actual thinks everything in the story is possible? If my brain was digitized and I was reborn inside a computer I think I could be happy with that existence. But is that belief only because it’s my only hope for avoiding death? Am I being realistic?

I’m not sure realistic science fiction isn’t considered a downer by readers. I considered Aurora by Kim Stanley Robinson to have been the best science fiction novel of 2015 but it wasn’t up for a Hugo in 2016. Is that because it questions the faith of science fiction believers?

Why don’t we see more science fiction about climate change? The Water Knife by Paolo Bacigalupi, another book from 2015, is a novel that deals with climate change, but it was also ignored for the Hugos. For the 2017 Hugos, All the Birds in the Sky by Charlie Jane Anders addresses climate catastrophe but not directly. Interestingly, it’s a story of magic v. science, and science appears to be the evil bad guys. Anders personifies nature with magic, but magic will not solve the problem of capitalism and technology run amok.

Entertainment science fiction must constantly borrow from speculative science fiction to give an illusion of maintaining its science fiction bona fides. Usually, entertainment science fiction mines past science fiction for settings and plots. Entertainment science fiction is as realistic as Disney recreations. But isn’t animatronics getting more realistic all the time? Isn’t the seduction of VR that it’s a better reality that reality?

As a lifelong science fiction fan, here’s my existential problem of being Jim-2017. I wish I could live the entertainment science fiction life. I wish those futures were possible. As Jim-1967 I believed those futures were possible. But Jim-2017 knows they are not. So, Jim-2017 craves speculative science fiction that’s honest. I want to die knowing what the realistic possibilities are for humans living in this universe. By those standards, We Are Legion (We Are Bob) is of little use – it’s a blue pill and not a red pill.

If you live long enough you’ll notice that some people get stuck in pop culture dreams. Has that happened to science fiction fans?

Below are some of the 21st Century SF books I’ve read. I’ve marked some which I think have a reasonable degree of reality in them. Of course, that might be my optimism or pessimism showing through.

1. Ready Player One by Ernest Cline
2. The Martian by Andy Weir
3. Old Man’s War by John Scalzi
4. The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
5. Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
6. Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins
7. Leviathan Wakes by James S. A. Corey
8. The Road by Cormac McCarthy
9. Altered Carbon by Richard K. Morgan
10. The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi
11. Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell
12. Spin by Robert Charles Wilson
13. Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie
14. Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro
15. Redshirts by John Scalzi
16. The City & The City by China Miéville
17. Little Brother by Cory Doctorow
18. The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
19. Pattern Recognition by William Gibson
20. Seveneves by Neal Stephenson
21. Accelerando by Charles Stross
22. The Three-Body Problem by Liu Cixin
23. The Yiddish Policemen’s Union by Michael Chabon
24. Rainbows End by Vernor Vinge
25. Boneshaker by Cherie Priest
26. Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel
27. The Girl with All the Gifts by M. R. Carey
28. Calculating God by Robert J. Sawyer
29. 2312 by Kim Stanley Robinson
30. WWW: Wake by Robert J. Sawyer
31. WWW: Watch by Robert J. Sawyer
32. WWW: Wonder by Robert J. Sawyer
33. Feed by Mira Grant
34. Lock In by John Scalzi
35. The Dog Stars by Peter Heller
36. Julian Comstock: A Story of 22^nd-Century America by Robert Charles Wilson
37. The Age of Miracles by Karen Thompson Walker
38. Flood by Stephen Baxter
39. Aurora by Kim Stanley Robinson
40. The Water Knife by Paolo Bacigalupi
41. New York City 2140 by Kim Stanley Robinson

JWH