I am an imaginative person, but I never once imagined I would find myself in a room with the Ministry of Defence (MoD) talking about what the world could be like many decades into the future. But that is what I have been doing recently, as one of several science-fiction authors on the Creative Futures project, a partnership between Coventry University and the MoD’s defence science and technology laboratory.
As it seems the world is hellbent on making some of the dystopian futures we have imagined become reality, I raised my concerns about how our work would be used. But we weren’t there to suggest ideas for weapons of mass destruction. We were there to talk about things such as the impact of the climate crisis and potential future technologies, and how both could impact society. What kind of crises could arise and what sort of disaster relief may be required. The sci-fi writers of the past did a pretty decent job of predicting our present – from the moon landings (Jules Verne, 1865) to the use of geostationary satellites for global communications (Arthur C Clarke, 1945) – so I can see why the MoD wanted our contributions.
My science-fiction novels contain imagined futures, not predictions, and the difference is important. I am not a fortune teller. But I do have a particular skillset that involves looking at how big systems, such as societies, work – and how changing certain aspects of them can lead to potential futures. For example, if a finance AI erases all records of debt instantly, how would that affect the life of a doctor struggling to pay a student loan? How about an executive at the World Bank? What about a loan shark?
My novel After Atlas is set 80 years in the future and it is dystopian because I deliberately imagined a future that could plausibly exist if we continue along the path we are on now. I wrote that book before Donald Trump’s first presidency, and all these years later, I fear the world I imagined in that novel is even more likely to come to pass. For instance, access to nutritious fresh food being available only to the rich, the erosion of the distinction between government and corporations, and the destruction of human rights in the face of unfettered capitalism.
But something had happened since I wrote the novel that got me into that room. I had started to worry that writing dystopian science fiction was cathartic, but potentially part of the problem. I had started to look for ways to tell stories of a brighter future, because if we can’t imagine it, we can’t strive for it.
In line with this new direction in my work, I created the Imagining Tomorrow podcast for Friends of the Earth, which is all about technology and community action happening today, and extrapolating brighter possible futures from those starting points. For example, in episode one I created a future vision of post-industrial towns being regenerated and fuel poverty eliminated thanks to community-owned clean energy projects. It was inspired by community energy groups in Wales, and the fantastic UK-based GreenSCIES initiative that is pioneering the creation of community heating networks using heat reclaimed from data cooling centres, the London Underground and even flooded mines It is not science fiction: the technology exists now, and community energy groups up and down the country have the knowhow. We just need the political will to support communities in fundraising and affordable community loans.
I was glad to be in that room with the MoD, because I had a chance to shape the discussion towards imagining better futures and how we could get there, as well as all the dystopian scenarios.
Soon, I’m hoping to have the opportunity to work with people in disaster preparedness and resilience for potential crises 50 years in the future. I have been asked to help consider combinations of factors that could lead to new problems. For example, what if future life-support machines rely upon software that is subscription-model based? If a new pandemic hits, does the subscription price go up? Or what if the company that runs those machines is hacked with ransomware?
When it comes to planning and policy, who is in the room will obviously have an impact on the future. I want scientists to be there, obviously, but I want science-fiction writers there too. Because we are not inside those systems, we can look at the factors involved in a completely different way, and extrapolate potential impacts.
I dearly wish we could be in the room with the decision-makers evaluating AI’s impacts on the UK’s prospects, because in the science-fiction world we have been considering the impact of machine learning, large language models and genuine AI for decades. And we aren’t trying to extract millions of pounds from decision-makers. I would ask dozens of questions about copyright, accuracy and biased algorithms. I would ask whether they have really considered the implications of companies, who only care about maximising profits, having access to information that could jeopardise the right to privacy. I would ask how they would deal with a Silicon Valley-based company, considering the current US administration, and whether they are willing to divert public money into businesses that are donating to that regime. I would ask a lot more besides. I imagine they would find me rather annoying.
Science-fiction writers have the ability to look at big systems and how changing one variable can affect the people who live within them. We bring them to life and help readers to understand how they suffer, how they survive, how they live. And when it comes to decisions that can create and destroy jobs, houses, healthcare and all the other threads that weave a society together, this weird skillset of ours may be more valuable than you think.
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Emma Newman is an author, podcaster and audiobook narrator. Her Planetfall science-fiction series was shortlisted for the best series Hugo award
This post was originally published on here
