What else is there to be, after all?

As a fan (and sometimes author) of dystopian science fiction, I have seen the metaphors we’ve crafted for ourselves to process dramatic changes to our humanity, and the moral of those stories is always—amid all sense of lost hope—never despair so much that you stop dreaming of a better outcome.

Sure, we may have shifted to a world filled with content, feeds, output and brands but these are no match for the enduring human ideas of art, philosophy, significance and identity which are yet more subtle and bound to our very human experience, perhaps irreplaceably so.

I’ve saved one last topic in my list of themes on this collection for just such hope.

Beyond wagging my finger at what seems to be a failing of our technological ideals, I want to poke at the corners of our imagination and examine what the world might look like in any of countless possible scenarios, wondering the whole while what little steps we can do along the way to those strange futures to guide them towards something meant for us as humans… and not the machines.

It’s going to take me some time and thought, but I am going to dig into literature and lean upon prognostication. I am going to look to the past, and remember the future as I hope it might be. And I’ll be digging into this under the topic Futures & Visions as I continue writing on this project. Stay tuned.  

What I hope is that humanity stays in vogue.

What I hope is that authenticity keeps its value.

What I hope is that we hold onto the tangible value of each other over the chased value of the illusion we’ve been promised.

Admitting we’ve been duped is not going to be easy.

Recently, I had a job that lasted for about six months. I took the job because in both the abstract and the literal words of the man who hired me it had the potential to be something grand and interesting and fulfilling. Promises were made. Dreams were forged. Idealism clutched onto my heart like a vice grip.

By the sixth month, having long since crossed the threshold of broken promises and failed dreams, all I had left was the taste of that idealism in the back of my throat. 

I left. It was difficult. It was right. It was gutting knowing that I had been duped by a system and a collection of people who had used my hope against me.

Technology has made us many promises and lit countless dreams. Have we been duped?

I don’t know for sure, but walking away from the idealism that it offers will always be the most difficult part of the journey.