The Last Question by Issac Asimov [pdf]
physics.princeton.edu
physics.princeton.edu
I've also found a comic version of the story:
Interfacing with an advanced computer via teletype is pretty funny. But there are also cultural anachronisms. For example all the people speaking are men except for shrieking kids and a meek wife. And it is a sci fi story that ends in a Bible scene!
“Golden Age” sci fi stories are great mental puzzles, but also great glimpses into the mindset of the era in which they were written. It’s fun to see what authors thought would change quickly, and what wouldn’t change.
In this story, space travel and energy development advances quickly. But in 2061 there’s still only one big computer and it takes symbols and teletype to interact with it. People have everything they need, but the population keeps exploding. In short it is a good view into the U.S. of the 1950s: a time of nuclear physics, the space race, and the baby boom.
Secondly,
> And it is a sci fi story that ends in a Bible scene!
Did you miss the entire premise of the story?
I don't think OP is complaining, just remarking on how it's a signal of the time.
You can write a story about your mates all day long, nobody cares, don't draw this false equivalence; however, when all of society is just writing books about "their mates" and somehow women aren't present in any of these stories in any significant capacity, then I think I'd raise an eyebrow: no?
Did every Saturday morning cartoon have to end with explaining the moral of the story, and followed by a joke with the whole cast laughing? They didn't, but they sure used to.
Did the old knightly tales always have to show christian values and knightly valour, through a whole lot of christian symbolism? They didn't, but they sure used to.
Likewise I've started to read all the classic sci fi, and it is very noticeable, that women just want to have sex with the main character for no real reason. Because ya know, it would be nice to admit that women have sexual desires as well, and that it's especially convenient if that would mean them pleasing the protagonist that just shows up.
Read one, and you don't have to complain about it, read several and you start to see it pervasive and an outlook of the times. So I look forward to the hundredth story about going out with your mates, so I can call it out in the same manner
Averted in spades by E. E. "Doc" Smith, whose work seems a bit "clunky" by modern standards but was writing really heavy-duty sci-fi ten to twenty years ahead of its time.
This story does have a mix, though. And it’s interesting that the characters conform to U.S. 1950s gender roles despite the plot covering enormous distances and spans of future time.
This is simply because it was written by someone in the 1950s for readers in the 1950s.
Likewise, in the U.S. in the 1950s it was broadly assumed that everyone was familiar with the language of the Christian Bible, especially King James. Whereas today’s society is less religious overall and more overtly diverse. An editor considering this story today would have to think about how many people would simply miss the reference of the last line.
Every time he tried to assign gender it was horrible. Susan Calvin as the distant, unfeeling woman who could only be a mother to a robot was one.
There was:
* the housewife who fell in love with her robot
* the mother who saved a robot instead of her biological child and was killed by her husband
* the woman who poisoned her genius husband after he created a temporary time-travel technology because she didn't believe he'd ever get the credit
* the wife who ruins her husband's chance to hook up with a real bombshell on Mars by showing up a little too early with her mother
* about five shrewish mothers who didn't trust robots around their children and were proven wrong
* "Little Miss", whose only achievement is being open-minded about her "male" robot being sentient
* Several stories about "intuitive robots" who had to be made feminine so that men would bother talking to them. I still remember the cringe-worthy line: “Listen, men respond to voices. At the most intimate moments, are they looking? It’s the voice in your ear.”
And I'm just going off the top of my head here. There's so much more.
Then Asimov took a three-decade break from fiction. When he came back every explicit woman was some kind of super-powered bimbo.
Asimov was at his best when you couldn't sense any gender. His notion of gender was deeply unsettling.
Pretend he's sincere. He then spent thirty years being a notorious... I struggle for a description. Womanizer? Hound?
He called himself a dirty old man and a lecher, and claimed he had been one from the age of fifteen. He wrote a book called "The Sensuous Dirty Old Man".
If he weren't already dead years ago he'd have been metooed into the Earth's core. He was literally famous for pinching women's butts when they didn't expect or want it.
And he came back from that in the 80s and had learned nothing about women. His female characters are all sex and smugness.
I suppose that's common in the mangakas too. Few of them learn how to deal with women as human beings instead of sexual objects.
Oh, I know all too well of his numerous sexual assaults. When it gets to the stage that Harlan Ellison makes it a point to get between him and women as they're going up a set of stairs...yeah not great, not great at all. I don't want to downplay it in the least.
Mote is actually one of the rare instances where the authors got the computer predictions right. All the characters carry hand computers that fit in their pockets, and all the rooms have big screens that can be used to display information. Not too far from how things work today.
The Last Question (wikipedia.org)
https://news.ycombinator.com/item?id=31675727
313 points | by thewarpaint | 5 days ago | 156 comments
For similar vibes I highly recommend my favorite of such speculations into deep future - The Next Ten Billion Years By John Michael Greer [0]
And some encouraging quoutes:
>100 years from now
>Cornucopians still insist that fusion power, artificial intelligence, and interstellar migration will save us any day now, and their opponents still insist that human extinction is imminent, but most people are too busy trying to survive to listen to either group.
>100 millions years from now
>They are bipeds, but not even remotely human; instead, they belong to Earth’s third intelligent species. They are distantly descended from the crows of our time, though they look no more like crows than you look like the tree shrews of the middle Cretaceous
[0]: https://www.resilience.org/stories/2013-09-05/the-next-ten-b...
- Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot, 1994
Full text, narrated by the man himself:
From this distant vantage point, the Earth might not seem of any particular
interest. But for us, it's different. Consider again that dot. That's here.
That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone
you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The
aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions,
ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and
coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant,
every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor
and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every
"superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of
our species lived there on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of
blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph,
they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the
endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the
scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their
misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their
hatreds.
Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some
privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale
light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our
obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from
elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else,
at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes.
Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our
stand.
It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building
experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human
conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our
responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and
cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.
We were hunters and foragers.
The frontier was everywhere.
We were bounded only by the earth,
and the ocean, and the sky.
The open road still softly calls.
Our little terraqueous globe
is the madhouse of those
hundred, thousands, millions of worlds.
We who can not even put our own planetary home in order
weaven with rivalries and hatreds;
are we to venture into space?
By the time we're ready to settle even the nearest other planetary system,
we will have changed.
The simple passage of so many generations will have changed us.
Necessity will have changed us.
We're an adaptable species
It will not be we who reach Alpha Centauri and the other nearby stars.
It will be a species very like us,
but with more of our strengths,
and fewer of our weaknesses.
More confident,
farseeing,
capable,
and prudent.
For all our failings,
despite of our limitations and fallibilities
we humans are capable of greatness.
What new wonders, undreamt of in our time,
we will have wrought in another generation?
And another?
How far will our nomadic species have wandered by the end of the next century?
and the next millenium?
Our remote descendants, safely arrayed on many worlds through the solar system
and beyond
will be unified
by their common heritage,
by the regard for their home planet,
and by the knowledge
that whatever other life may be,
the only humans in all the universe
come from Earth.
They will gaze up
and strain to find
the blue dot in their skies.
They will marvel
at how vulnerable
the repository of our potential once was.
How perilous our infancy.
How humble our beginnings.
how many rivers we had to cross
before we found our way.And we're all gonna die eventually.
> Business as usual continues; the human population peaks at 8.5 billion, liquid fuels production remains more or less level by the simple expedient of consuming an ever larger fraction of the world’s total energy output,
See: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_energy_supply_and_consum...
But the entire piece is premised on mistaken philosophy, an irrational belief that progress has to stop for some particular (unjustified) reason.
But alas, space fairing was much harder in practice than the sci-fi authors expected, so we surf on the web instead. On that aspect, William Gibson and Philip K Dick got it right.
Disagree. The obvious alternative to human interstellar travel is human-built Von Neumann probes, which are more likely to eat the universe than human hands would've been.
True, but Bob is a pretty decent guy.
Maybe a subtle nod to:
https://www.dropbox.com/sh/y7ar4mtbapk9qd4/AABEe53IbANo3N_45...
I view such SF as a secularized render of such conceptualizations -- along with the concepts of the singularity, etc.
Much of Asimov's work does this. Many of the robot stories are simply recastings of old Jewish folk legends about golems.
In one sense, I don't have a problem with recasting old fiction into a newer mold. Such is a mainstay of cultural development.
However, there is a particular vain which I do find pernicious.
It calls itself 'science' fiction, but is prejudicial to the concept.
Such operates as a palliative to a condition that seemingly cannot be resolved: our knowledge that the universe, so far as we understand the laws of physics, the knowledge that science has given us, will come to an end. One way or another, our species is headed for extinction. For the species to choose death at a massive drug orgy this weekend is indistinguishable from the obliteration of this planet by meteor in a hundred or a thousand years is indistinguishable from the engulfment of this planet by its expanding and dying sun is indistinguishable from the heat death of the universe.
Though concepts of 'souls' are bandied about in Christianity (and in all appropriated from the ancient pagan Greeks the early church fathers so admired), an examination of the actual deployment of the theology indicates that more generally the bodily nature of an eternity is fundamental. But a purely materialistic understanding of the universe cannot seemingly grant such a possibility of a bodily eternity (whether simulated or not).
And if the individual can be in some way assuaged as to their lack of access to such an eternity, they are typically comforted so by the concept of the eternal continuity of the human race (or its ensuing evolutionary descendants) as a process in the universe.
Rather than a palingenetism in which some 'golden age' is reborn and the true knowledge of 'god' returns, the timeline has been inverted: we do not recede from 'god' but are distant from 'god' because we are still on approach. In a way, it is the full acceptance that 'god' is crafted by Man. We will make 'god', the AI, etc, who will stand beyond the boundaries of the universe, beyond time and space.