walk through two worlds, the world that is and the world as it should be. (Actually, we all do.) I know which one I'd prefer to inhabit, but I don't get to choose, only to dream. Making this sort of observation has become a cliché in SF circles by now, so I bet that many of you could fill in the details of my complaints. They go something like this:
Where's the personal jetpack I was promised? What happened to those weekend jaunts to the moon that I was supposed to be taking by now? And why haven't robots assumed all of the world's menial tasks yet?
I'm sure that a review of my past editorials would yield even more carping about the distance between reality and the future in which we were told we'd be living today. But the fact that the answer to the above questions is, sadly, "Don't hold your breath," isn't my point today. Nor am I here to talk about the flip side of that issue, which is that there are plenty of other science-fictional promises that have been fulfilled.
Instead, what came to mind this week as I watched the human misery in New Orleans, caused by a combination of Hurricane Katrina, imcompetence and poverty, was a deeper, more troubling issue than the accuracy of SF's predictions. No, what bothered me was this:
With even today's promises so unevenly distributed, when tomorrow's finally come true—which of us will they be coming true for?
Distribution is everything
William Gibson (below right) once wrote that "the future is already here—it's just
unevenly distributed." But there are more serious consequences to that aphorism than the fact that some of us have broadband while others are stuck with dial-up. Implicit in Gibson's statement is that the present is also unevenly distributed.
Forget the spaceships and nuclear-powered communicators. Remember that there are far simpler technologies, ones that many of us take for granted, that might as well be sci-fi to others. What the despair dredged up last week showed was that those with access to cars and credit cards (all 20th-century inventions) could at least make an attempt to escape, while those without could not. These disparities seem certain to continue. Free-market advocates have long trumpeted that a rising tide lifts all boats (a watery metaphor that is a bit uncomfortable today, considering the circumstances). When the Singularity comes, how will we be able to live with ourselves if we leave those metaphorically boatless behind?
I still believe in the future. But we must engineer its approach so that its fruits will be shared by all. Humanity has always been separated into the haves and the have-nots. We have just been reminded of the consequences of that. As the promises of science fiction continue to come true, the gap between those two groups will grow even larger. Isn't it about time we spent as much time and energy solving that problem as we're doing on creating cell phones that will download clips from American Idol even faster for those who can afford them?
Because when I finally am flitting through the skies strapped to my personal jetpack, I don't want to be looking down at those living in poverty below.
I want all of us to be flying high together.
Scott Edelman started his trek to the editor-in-chief position at Science Fiction Weekly decades ago, when he began working as an assistant editor at Marvel Comics. Between these two positions, this four-time Hugo Award nominee in the category of Best Editor was the founding editor of the award-winning magazine Science Fiction Age, in addition to editing Sci-Fi Universe, Sci-Fi Flix and Satellite Orbit. Currently, he also edits SCI FI, the official magazine of the SCI FI Channel. His most recent short story appears in the new issue of The Journal of Pulse-Pounding Narratives.
