In the late seventies a new flavour of science fiction began to take shape. Its earliest ancestors had first appeared in both “new age” science fiction and the authors of the beat generation. In the intervening time it had slowly formed a new definition for itself through the works of J.G. Ballard and Philip K. Dick, until reaching a point in the early eighties when the cultural obsession with excess and mass media provided the perfect literary genesis pool for the emerging counter culture prophets of cyberpunk.
Abandoning galaxy spanning empires and laser toting aliens in favour of the more familiar settings of abandoned territories and near future cities, like neon wombs breeding cybernetic street gangs, corporate warriors and digital pop stars. Cyberpunk takes us into worlds not that far beyond the horizon from our own. Deeply entrenched in the familiar with elements just alien enough that they might be happening in another city somewhere, just on the other side of tomorrow. In the three decades since its first predictions we can clearly see that they prophesised the popularity of reality television and the total pervasion of the internet happened somewhere between Bruce Sterling’s The Artificial Kid and William Gibson’s Cyber Space Trilogy.
With much of the traditional fictitious elements of cyberpunk having become parts of our everyday lives it comes of no surprise that many other brands of modern science fiction carry these same elements that are associated with cyberpunk without fully submersing themselves into the stream. Such as The Matrix, which only barely walks the outskirts, having themes and motifs more in common with post-apocalyptic or machine war SF. Like all mimics of any punk movement, they wear the colours but run in different circles. Cyberpunk was never just a collection of hacker stories set in glass walled cities and the slums that surround them. It’s a voice and an ethos defined by the very culture that birthed it, where the corporate world has adopted the methods and tactics of street culture in a setting that is thrown at us, where chapters read like scenes in a film, some barely clocking in at a page, and the books themselves pace as though measured in frames per second. The prose itself charges along in mbps between street speak and stream of consciousness. If you are interested in running deep in this pure flavour, books like Snow Crash and Blood Music deliver in spades. If you are a sci-fi cinema junkie, Cypher, New Rose Hotel and Natural City are undiluted, cut straight from the source.
For me nothing sits closer to the heart of cyberpunk than the literary channel surfing of Mirrorshades and Burning Chrome. Short story compilations birthed straight from the neon womb in portions engineered for the short attention span generation that shared its childhood.
The science fiction I spent my youth with consisted of faster than light travel, aliens who spoke perfect English for no good reason and sword fighting on mars. While this brand of science fiction is where most of us teethed, there are those pundits who believe that this flavour of “nonsense”, having no actual basis in real ‘science’, should have the word removed from its name. There have been arguments where terms such as ‘Space Fantasy’ got used a little too liberally and some trekkies get somewhat belligerent. Eventually the extremists ended their holy war and settled on the term Hard Sci-Fi, the general idea being that all Hard Sci-Fi is based on actual science, whether for the entire premise of the story or simply for the setting. As with all aspects of science fiction, there are disagreements. Some people are very black and white, drawing a line at what can be proven conclusively now, while others construct elaborate grading systems designating everything from Babylon 5 down into various grades of mushiness, and assigning everything from Dune up varying degrees of solidity.
This hard-line taken by learned folk in white coats doesn’t in any way detract from my interest in, and appreciation of, hard sci-fi, because despite the boring and educational implications of scientific accuracy, it often adds a strong sense of plausibility to the work in question. It’s a strange realisation while reading Kim Stanley Robinson’s Mars Trilogy that this may actually happen one day, but If 1700 pages of the colonisation and terraforming of the red planet isn’t your cup of tea, then it’s worth getting hold of 2009’s Moon starring Sam Rockwell. It’s an easier transition into the sub-genre that will only cost you 97 minutes of your life, and it’s an outstanding piece of cinematic writing and directing where the accuracy stands more as a setting and general approach than an overall theme.
The hard cyber-punk of William Gibson’s Bridge Trilogy is a wholly desirable piece of work in this respect, and has been my go-to SF trilogy for all oppositionists who don’t like the space bound settings and ‘ridiculous’ premises of a majority of my library. Ever since my first trip into the media obsessed near future of hackers and corporate warfare that is Virtual Light I have considered it a law unto itself. It still lives the wild adventure of the Cyber Space Trilogy with its edges hardened into something nearly happened in its tangibility. Its hardness gives it credence.
In a more traditional setting the anime series Planetes is deep in the folds of hard sci-fi with the entire premise, setting and many of the sub-plots revolving heavily around a realistic and technically accurate speculation on the future of space travel. The main characters are responsible for recovering the satellites and other space debris that have become a hazard in the space age. The laws of orbital physics, known and theoretical space travel related illnesses as well as the limitations of interplanetary travel are not only adhered to, but essential for the unfolding and direction of the plot. If you pay attention, you may even learn something about the history of space travel.
It is in the policing of this realism that we find The Game. A brandished rapier and glove in the face, that revolves heavily around scientific ridicule and public humiliation. It is a challenge put forth by the authors and taken up by his audience, and the rules of The Game go a little something like this:
1. Approach a literary, cinematic or television work of science fiction having taken all the necessary safety precautions.
2. Subject all elements of the work in question to the rigors of scientific experimentation and theory.
3. Publish all scientific errors to your nearest internet and hope that you too haven’t made mistakes.
4. No eye gouging.
Every time a Hard Sci-Fi author publishes a book, this is the gauntlet they must endure. This has lead public mockery at science fiction conventions, and in the case of Larry Niven this has resulted in the publishing of corrected reprints and the writing of sequels with retroactive fixes to his scientific blunders. From the outside it appears very harrowing. Which is why it’s entertaining. I personally have never taken part in The Game as all of the science I have learnt since high school comes from books about the accuracies and inaccuracies in science fiction.
I still like your books Larry.
I am a watcher. For my first two decades I lived and breathed VHS. Coveting the magic bricks that let me watch 'Flash Gordon' whenever I damn well pleased. Even now my fetish blossoms as I rummage through my mother's garage of mislabeled boxes to be rewarded with the black plastic treasures of my youth. I rush to the living room, noticing that my adult hands had grown to the perfect size to brandish the cassette as an extension of my self, only to be denied by the sleek DVD player by the television.
The future comes to fast. After journeying through the distant reaches of science fiction for better part of my life, one would assume this to be less of a shock. Alas, here I stand 'Captain Harlock' in hand, with the realisation that I will probably have to order DVDs from France and watch it with German subtitles. Why did 'Blade Runner' never prepare me for this?
John Whydham's The Chrysalids is my favourite type of Sci fi. The world has been through a major holocaust and the new religious system outlaws any kind of deformity. It is considered ungodly to be mutated in any way. A young boy named David is a mutant with the abitlity to communicate with thought pictures. He and his friens communicate by sending mental images to each other. His new sister is found to be more powerful than any of them and can send a distress call which influences the others to rescue her when she is in trouble. Eventually they are found out however and must flee. It seems that the story is having a say about the world's attitude about those who are different. It works for awhile, however I am afraid there is a weakness in the tale. When the group is found by others like them, living in New Zealand (or new Sea land and they call it) they go to live with them. These people have an attitude about the "normal" people. It seems that the "new" people are more advanced than the "old" and they are considered better. This is where, I feel the story fails to make its point. If the mutants don't like being considered abnormal why are they apparently "better" than the others. It focuses on the idea of evolution (which I don't believe in) arguing that since they are more advanced than the less evolved. It was this kind of belief that made white europeans believe they were more advanced and thus "better" than races such as the Aboriginal people of Australia. This does not mean I completely disapprove of the book, it's quite good, but I think there is a failure there. What do you think?
One of man's greatest desires is to look into the future. Why because we just can't wait. Everybody want's to know their future- hence the reason for the desire to see Tarot card readers and the like. However the future isn't always pretty, so why do we still want to see it? One idea is that it can act like a warning. In the film, Minority Report Chief John Anderton helps prevent murders from happening with the help of three people called the Pre-cogs. The pre-cogs were the accidental result of genetic mutation. Due to their "gifts" they are used to create a murder-free town. It seems like a good thing - but is it? When John himself is propesied to commit a murder John goes on the run to solve the mystery - but is his fate already sealed? After kidnapping Agatha, in order to find a "minority report", which is an alternate future he is given one. However Agatha insists that he can still choose his future, which he eventually does. At the end of the film the pre-cogs are set free and the pre-crime division is closed down. It seems it is best not too look into the future. If the future can change what is the point of looking at it - however if it cannot would you really want to?
Add Comments
Comments (3)
Read More