https://adage.com/article/media/jetsons-world-a-reality/237394
The Jetsons is an oldie and a goodie, and managed to get a lot of things right. Having just referenced it in an essay, I found an article examining that.
Also, an interesting link presented in that article concerning “seascrapers”:
Sakyo Komatsu’s short story “Take Your Choice” is an unconventional piece of science fiction: it does not concern itself with an overly different vision of life than the present. There are indications of this taking place in the future, of course: a man has an electronic glass eye, “two-dimensional” is a distinguishing adjective for television sets, and cash is dealt in credits (though still transferable by check). But the plot itself does not interact with these technologies, but instead a technology that does not truly exist. Time travel is the technological focal point of this story, manipulated in such a way as to give the protagonist a choice between three eventual futures: a Jetsons-like world, a classically inspired utopia, and a nuclear holocaust. After some indecision, the main character chooses what the vast majority of people also chose: the third option. In the end, he steps into the same world he believed he left — the only shift being his newfound certainty of life. And while the machine that brought him there is fake — time travel did not exist in this story after all — the scope of its impact is startling. The story’s nontraditional focus, as a science fiction story that deals with no actual science, allows for a concentration on the ethical choices humanity makes in its interactions with technology, especially the impact of these decisions at both an individual and societal scale.
The first part of the story centers on the titular choice, one which exposes the main character’s sentiments towards his life. His visit to the shop itself suggests his dissatisfaction with life, as he is willing to spend millions of credits on this uncertain opportunity to change his destiny. Being inclined to burn such a sum of capital means it is likely that the protagonist is not poor; he is prepared to dispose of millions off the tip of a stranger at a bar, after all. His potentially stable lifestyle may itself lend to his dissatisfaction. His thoughts after coming out of the “time machine” reflect as much, as he muses “There will be no tedious, prolonged years that will be recorded as an infinite repetition of daily life” (101). What he is trying to escape in visiting this shop is not a disaster, but the mundane; this is likely why disaster appealed to him. Komatsu’s creation of the character reflects this as well: the main character is nameless throughout the story, a craft choice which contributes to this sense of anonymity. This may extend to his life in general, a sense of insignificance; the knowledge he gains, that the world is on an unholy collision course, gives him importance. His first thoughts upon leaving the shop are “I am the only one. No one except me definitely knows the fate of the world” (101). He finds solace in this power; his certainty of the future’s course makes him, at least as far as he knows, unique. Unlike the other two futures, in which he would race towards conceptually interesting futures in which his significance would not necessarily change, the secret he holds gives him a perverse sense of worth.
The story’s second section suggests several things about the direction of society as well as the larger social implications of this choice. While it does not deal with actual time travel, the story still centers around the commodification of this science. The technology these two men claim to have created would, of course, be incredibly powerful and impactful. Their false account of the future reflects that they are aware of as much, as the little man explains to the protagonist that “We must always be with an official guide of the Time Travel Control Department” (90). It stands to reason that this type of power would be heavily regulated in a society where it exists, as there are many ethical quandaries that accompany time travel. Interestingly enough, the main character does not seem overly concerned with these questions. He asks about these men, the future they come from, and the process behind time travel, but readily accepts its existence after this. He doesn’t further question it because, in the end, time travel is not that interesting to him: it is a means to an end. The main character wants to use time travel to improve his future; he could care less about it outside of his own motivations. The story suggests that this goal is not limited to the protagonist, but true for thousands. One of the men says “It’ll be a long time before they finally realize they’ve been deceived. Probably not for a decade, right?” (103). While this is said in assurance, it also suggests that the many people who visited this shop would keep silent unless their prescribed future proved false. With a technology as ridiculous and fascinating as time travel, it’s expected that many of its users, such as the officials and politicians mentioned in the final line, would be interested in its application or lack thereof. The story does not propose this would be the response; it suggests that people would prefer to keep quiet in the interest of preserving their futures rather than impact the world themselves. Time travel, which has long fascinated writers, filmmakers, and philosophers, is rendered just another capitalist commodity.
The finale also questions the potential societal impact of this ruse. The reasons why people chose future three are, after all, more psychologically significant than tangibly impactful. The taller man has some theories, concluding “That shows, contrary to one’s expectations, that people have a strong desire for destruction…people are, in one way or another, very lewd. Can’t help having a wish to peep. To satisfy this secret lustful desire for people, they don’t care if the world blows up” (103). He believes that these decisions to pursue future three serve people’s curiosity and perhaps reveal an inherent destructive streak. Whether it be this, insecurity, or some other motivation is not what the story frets over. The chilling final lines instead reveal the true problem behind this scheme, as the little man asks “What’s going to happen to the world? If the people who believe that this world will definitely be finished in little more than a decade are going to increase in large numbers all over the world…? You know, among our customers there were many officials, officers, politicians…” (103). Suddenly the nuclear apocalypse is not fake. It is no longer a constructed image, but a fate of humanity that had been growing increasingly real with each person to pass through the tunnel. Komatsu here asks the reader what would happen if society accepted it was rapidly hurtling towards the end: Would they steer the world towards apocalypse, knowing it to be inevitable? What would politicians and officers focus on, knowing any consequence would dissipate in just a few years? If humanity’s destiny was to end in nuclear holocaust, would there be anyone trying to stop it? The short man himself trails off as it dawns on him the very real significance of their false technology, because even though the future is unknown, the scheme he is a part of had ensured it would be more bleak.
Komatsu wrote this story in 1967, two decades after the nuclear bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and in the middle of the Cold War; nuclear annihilation was likely past and future to him. But even though most people now live without the threat of apocalypse dominating their consciousness, it is important to consider how people interact with known oncoming disasters, with climate change being an important example. Much is made of people believing or not believing in it, but there is an important subgroup present: people who believe in climate change’s inevitability. The certainty with which the oncoming effects of climate change are reported has led to a not uncommon belief that there is nothing that can stop it and thus no reason to try. So why not enjoy humanity’s last days? Similar to the apocalypse in this story, there is something comforting about knowledge and certainty that people cling to, and with enough volume, a self-fulfilling prophecy is born.
https://www.huffpost.com/entry/love-is-blind-netflix_n_5e4f00e4c5b6a4525db869d6
A handful of men. A handful of women. Neither get to physically see each other, but instead go on dates in two adjacent pods. Only after they get engaged do they get to see each other, after about a week of this BLIND dating experience.
Is this the future of love?
A couple of weekends ago, I watched Jimmy Neutron: Boy Genius. I have seen it before; I even watched the cartoon spinoff. However, it had probably been a decade since I had last watched it. Now, I realize how crazy of an image it is.
This boy genius has seemingly unlimited intellect, something that is neither regulated nor seemingly true for any other character. In most ways, his town is like any suburban American town, and the other characters are everyday people.
Except Jimmy. He is something of an unchecked genius, and when considering the limits of our current technology, it is incredible what he creates. AI, in the form of his fully realistic robotic dog. Portals in his basement. (While not in this movie, I could not ignore the “Timmy Jimmy Power Hour.”) He even, as far as it seems, becomes not only the first kid to go to space, but part of the first middle school grade to leave the galaxy. And the first to make contact with aliens.
It is difficult to pin this in a particular subsection of science fiction. This movie is not post-apocalyptic, nor first contact, nor about technological ethics. It takes many of the things held in great importance in sci-fi — aliens, mad scientists, intelligence, space travel — and makes them casual, givens even. It is one of the few children’s science fiction movies I remember watching, and is ridiculously bizarre. But definitely worth the ride.