So I wrote what I hoped would be science fiction, I was not at all sure if what I wrote would be acceptable even. But I don’t say that I consciously wrote with humour. Humour is a part of you that comes out.
The genre of science fiction is a fun house, an amusement park ride, but it’s also a problem. The question that’s always being indirectly asked is this: ‘Just who do we think we are and, further, who do we want to be?’
I’ve always been a big fan of science fiction and of the worlds of the spiritual and the mystic.
Virtual reality, all the A.I. work we do, all the robotics work we do – we’re as close to realizing science fiction as it gets.
Everything is becoming science fiction. From the margins of an almost invisible literature has sprung the intact reality of the 20th century.
Science fiction writers foresee the inevitable, and although problems and catastrophes may be inevitable, solutions are not.
Like steampunk, silkpunk is a blend of science fiction and fantasy. But while steampunk takes its inspiration from the chrome-brass-glass technology aesthetic of the Victorian era, silkpunk draws inspiration from East Asian antiquity.
We’ve been surrounded by images of space our whole lives, from the speculative images of science fiction to the inspirational visions of artists to the increasingly beautiful pictures made possible by complex technologies. But whilst we have an overwhelmingly vivid visual understanding of space, we have no sense of what space sounds like.
I think science fiction helps us think about possibilities, to speculate – it helps us look at our society from a different perspective. It lets us look at our mores, using science as the backdrop, as the game changer.
That’s what ‘Star Trek’ was: We don’t know how to make an ideal society, but we’re going to portray that, and then we’re going to work backward. I think that’s why science fiction – despite the dystopian parts – comes out of this super ideal that, eventually, we will get to some better place where […]