You're listening to Imaginary Worlds, a show about how we create them and why we suspend our disbelief.

I'm Eric Milinski.

I was brainstorming ideas recently for episodes, and I thought about all the science fiction tropes I could explore.

VR, AI, space travel, colonizing Mars, robots, uploading our brains to computers, mechanizing our bodies.

And I realized all of this technology is no longer just science fiction. It's on the market,

or it's in development. We are living in the future that sci-fi writers dreamed about

40 or 50 years ago, But I don't feel like

celebrating. I don't trust the people developing the technology. And I find it creepy when they say

everything will be wonderful. Nothing will go wrong. Don't question them. They're geniuses.

Then I thought about the state of science fiction, and I noticed two very

broad categories, positive and negative futures. The positive stories usually take place

very far in the future, centuries from now. People zip across the galaxy and meet aliens

or robots. Our current problems are ancient history.

The darker futures usually take place in the coming decades, anywhere from 30 to 70 years from now.

And by the time we get to the end of the 21st century, things look pretty frightening. It's every type of dystopia you can imagine. Just pick your poison.

I can't read or watch these types of stories because when I look at the news every day, I feel like I'm already following a dystopian storyline.

I can't wallow in future timelines where things get even worse within the lifespan of people today.

And just as I was having this existential crisis, a listener named Jess Deaver contacted me.

She was doing a talk at South by Southwest called Brave New City, Designed through the lens of science fiction.

And she told me there is a community of

artists we're thinking about the future in that time span. They don't see dystopias. They see

better tomorrows and bright possibilities. Who are these people? Architects.

...