Neil Kale L Section Mrs. Small 25 May 2020 Strange Instincts for a Strange World Science fiction often envisions ideas far before hard science can. For example, Leonardo Da Vinci dreamt of the helicopter almost 300 years before it was developed, and even that is nothing compared to Lucian’s 2nd century A True Story, which envisioned humans travelling to the moon almost two millennia before we actually did so! Biologists say that, at the core, humans are still animals and that, in order to survive, they still need base instincts like placing their race above all others and fearing the unknown as well as the ‘other.’ Whereas early science fiction suggested that these instincts would be just as vital to survival in the future as they were to our survival in that time, modern sci-fi has begun to envision a world where we no longer need them. While old sci-fi suggests that the fear of the ‘other’ is just as valuable against futuristic threats, modern pieces show that it is possible to coexist with the “other”. For example, in E.T.A. Hoffman’s The Sandman, written in 1817, most people look upon the automaton, Olympia, with no more than “curious glances” (Hoffman 13) and “scarcely suppressed laughter.” (13) They “find [Olympia] quite uncanny, and prefer to have nothing to do with her.” (14) The one man who loves Olympia, Nathaniel, is portrayed as a fool who “[utters] strange fantastical stuff about his love.” (15) Moreover, because he meets Olympia, he forgets his girlfriend and family, and eventually goes raving mad. (15) Clearly, he should have feared the automaton. Almost 150 years later, on the original Star Trek, our attitude towards the “other” remained unchanged. Consider Spock, who is the only alien crew member aboard the spaceship Enterprise. He is often shown as unable to truly bond with his crewmates. For example, in “Day of the Dove,” he says that he “[has] not thoroughly enjoyed serving with Humans” because their “illogic and foolish emotions” are “a constant irritant.” (Star Trek) Over time, Spock is shown as becoming more emotional and thus ‘human’ through contact with the crew. However, this is less a symbol of peaceful coexistence with the “other” than it is of forcible conversion to humanity. The non- human entities in science fiction are often aliens or robots rather than the animals or Neanderthals which may have threatened humans in the past. That said, in older sci-fi, there is still an underlying fear of the ‘other.’ Just a decade after the old Star Trek, the attitude towards the ‘other’ in science fiction was completely different. In Star Trek: The Next Generation, which began in the late 1970s, there are dozens of alien crew members, not to mention Data, who is an android. Each is important to the team. For example, the ship psychologist is Betazoid, a species which is especially empathetic, and the security officer, Worf, is Klingon, an especially warlike race. (Star Trek: TNG) There is no attempt to make these beings more human as there was in the original show. Other examples of friendly relations between humans and non-humans are plentiful in recent science fiction. In the Terminator franchise, the change from fear of the “other” to friendship is a plot point. In the first movie, the Terminator is portrayed as the main antagonist whose sole objective is to kill. However, from the second movie onwards, he becomes a protector of humans. Many children’s movies from that time, such as E.T. and The Iron Giant also show friendly nonhumans. While older science fiction extolls the primal fear of the ‘other,’ newer sci-fi shows that we no longer need such a fear. In early sci-fi, humans still benefit from a primal fear of exploring beyond the boundaries of what is already known to mankind; however, modern sci-fi exalts those who “go where no man has gone before.” (Star Trek) In Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel, Frankenstein, the eponymous scientist pushes the boundaries of knowledge by creating a living being, only to be filled with “breathless horror and disgust” as it came to life. (Shelley 42) Though “in a scientific pursuit there is continual food for discovery and wonder,” (Shelley 36) Frankenstein would certainly have been better off not making the monster. At least, that is the view which many people had after reading the novel. For example, the 1818 The British Critic review described Frankenstein’s endeavor as a “horrible process,” (Anonymous 1) and the scientist as “a little perverted” (1) by his early self-education in alchemy. This view is echoed by the review in La Belle Assemblee which describes Frankenstein as “early warped by a perusal of those authors who deal in the marvellous.” (Bell 1) Whether or not Shelley intended it so, her story functioned as a Tower of Babel, in that many readers at the time finished Frankenstein feeling a renewed fear of the dangers of scientific progress. Modern science fiction is far more is far more welcoming of scientific ambition. For one, compare Frankenstein to the opening line of Star Trek which states that the mission of the spaceship Enterprise is “to explore strange new worlds. To seek out new life and new civilizations. To boldly go where no man has gone before!” (Star Trek) Though it may still hold an old-fashioned fear of the “other”, Star Trek is a modern sci-fi in at least one regard. That is, rather than engendering a fear of scientific discovery, Star Trek makes it seem exciting and fashionable. That is not to say that modern sci-fi ignores the risks associated with progress. For example, in Andy Weir’s The Martian, an accident leaves Mark Watney stranded alone on Mars. However, rather than serving as a warning against travelling to Mars, his story is an inspiration to future travelers. As he puts it, “[t]hings didn’t go exactly as planned, but I’m not dead, so it’s a win.” (Weir 1) The general attitude towards progress and exploring the unknown is far more accepting in modern sci-fi than it is in older works. Though it is not a deliberate choice, many early Western sci-fi are highly human-centric; in contrast, modern science fiction often acknowledges that humans are not at the center of the universe, and that we may, in fact, be quite irrelevant. In H. G. Wells’s 1897 novel, The War of the Worlds, the Martians invade because “their world is far gone in its cooling” and Earth is “their only escape from… destruction.” (Wells 7) When the Martians are eventually defeated by a disease, they are said to have been “slain… by the humblest things that God, in his wisdom, has put upon this earth.” (Wells 273) In passing, Wells portrays God as electing to preserve humanity over Martians. This must stem from his assumption that humans are a more important species. If Wells, an atheist, held this belief, then it is likely that his Christian contemporaries would have thought so. After all, Judeo-Christian faith is based on the idea that there is a chosen people, and by traditional standards, the chosen people are most definitely humans. As War of The Worlds shows, in early science fiction, humans are simply assumed to be the most important beings. Over time, the idea that humans are the alpha species has given way to science fiction which claims the exact opposite. For example, in Bester’s 1941 story “Adam and No Eve,” the protagonist initially believes that as the last human, he is “the last life.” (Bester 911) It seems that if he dies, “everything will perish.” (Bester 912) Only at the end of the story does he realize that life will go on in the form of “cells – tissues – bacteria – amoeba – countless infinities of life.” (Bester 915) Douglas Adams’s 1979 novel Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy takes this idea several steps further when the Earth, along with almost every lifeform on it, is casually destroyed to build a “hyperspatial express route.” (Adams 34) To add insult to injury, humans are not even the smartest species on Earth, since “[Earth] was commissioned, paid for, and run by mice.” (Adams 131) Modern sci-fi has evolved by accepting that humans are not the protagonists of this universe, but rather just one ensemble member among many others. Ultimately, by its very nature, science fiction must make a statement on human instincts; that said, while older science fiction portrays them as ineradicable, over time, the genre has begun to suggest that we will overcome them. While only time will prove this theory, there is a potential explanation. “[E]ver since the Cognitive Revolution, Homo sapiens has been able to revise its behaviour rapidly in accordance with changing needs. This opened a fast lane of cultural evolution, bypassing the traffic jams of genetic evolution.” (Harari 33) Until recently, most humans lived in a world where day-to-day survival was still a challenge. We had to stick to our animal instincts to survive, and this was reflected in our view of the future. Now, thanks to technology and government, many people no longer need these instincts. In this new world, it is more valuable to be able to explore without fear, collaborate with the ‘other,’ and understand our real place in the universe, no matter how small it may be. Science fiction is our pathway of cultural evolution towards this change. It is rapidly spreading the idea of a world beyond instincts throughout human culture, and we are already seeing its effects.