Humans have moved to subaquatic domes to avoid the deadly consequences of an increasingly depleted ozone layer. Largest solar power upgrades make this transition possible, and an android underclass provides maintenance work. Sentient but without rights, it is made with organs that can be harvested by humans. Gradually, Momo is enlightened to oppress the androids, connecting the dots between an operation he performed when he was young and losing his best friend.
Something terrible happened in this short work: the new religions formed in the future world, the territories of the Pacific Ocean divided between countries like the United States and corporations like Toyota, and afterwards there are amazing skin treatments at Momo’s salon. What makes these many books is Momo’s addiction to digital media. He spends hours on dial-up bulletin board systems and the early search engine Gopher, likes laserdiscs, and pores on “discbooks” and “disczines.”
The beautiful old digital layer of the book introduces the reader to real -world events that inspired Chi. While the English translation is new, The Membranes first published in 1995, just a few years after a decade -long period of martial law in Taiwan lifted. It changed the culture with a “sudden flood of new ideas, coupled with a lack of regulatory oversight across the younger generation,” as translator Ari Larissa Heinrich explains. in the afterword. Chi is part of this generation, newly selling bootleg tapes and suddenly exposed to international films, web surfing, and media and technology enjoyment. The confusing extreme perfection of this period is captured in the strong spirit of the book: the wild future of T City is an image of funhouse-mirror Taiwan as Chi experienced it.
The Membranes shows that even if a population also congregates in a town on the ocean floor, its communities will continue to make history from a common past. This is what NK Jemisin was worried about as he worked in 2020 The City We Became. The book is set in New York City, where the author lives, but in acknowledgments, he writes that “it requires more research than other fantasy novels I’ve written, put together.” Not only are the infrastructures and landmarks that Jemisin hopes to get accurate, but the New Yorkers themselves. “The real world has real people,” he wrote. “For this reason it is important that I do not describe them in ways that are disrespectful or cause harm.”
The City We Became saw a wide and enthusiastic audience when it was released last year in the early days of the pandemic disease. It introduces superhero -like characters acting as avatars in five New York boroughs, both protector and embodiment of their location. They fight entities reminiscent of HP Lovecraft’s monsters, with tentacles and “fronds,” manifestations of the threats New Yorkers face: gentrification, racism, police. Jemisin’s research and care pays off; The book heals readers because their own lives are transformed. For people whose towns have experienced various tests of resilience amid the covid-19 crisis, its characters feel real.
One way science fiction writers have avoided research like Jemisin is by showing familiar towns empty except for a few survivors. I am a legend, Richard Matheson’s 1954 post -apocalyptic classic, was set in a Los Angeles known for its geographies and street names, but a pandemic transformed its people – except one man – into vampires living in the shadows.
The novel, a major influence on modern zombie horror, films the anxiety of the Atomic Age by depicting previously many neighborhoods as newly desolate. The last man on earth, Robert Neville, rarely left his fortified home. Instead, he lived a comfortable life, listening to piano concerts and drinking alone. There is no coordinated disaster response in the novel. He does not have to cooperate or negotiate with his neighbors on supply runs.
As he begins to experiment with vampires to determine the origin of the disease, I am a legend begs a thought-provoking question: Is Richard the real monster of the new society? It’s questionable and worthy of being considered a classic, but Matheson offers no real sense of place. Some people are stripped of their history and are little but bloodthirsty mutants; predict their motivations and interests and have nothing to do with the culture of the city.
Decades earlier, polymath WEB Du Bois had taken a rare stab at writing fiction to show how the social hierarchies of a town could sustain its own people. His short story in 1920 “The Comet,” written after the flu, describes an endangered New York City event. A Black man survived, and for the first time in his life, he visited a restaurant on Fifth Avenue with no worries. Jim filled his plate in the empty building, thinking, “Yesterday, they didn’t serve me.” The city of Los Angeles in I am a legend could be anywhere, but New York is clearly New York in “The Comet.” Just along that line, Du Bois provides a snapshot of what life was like before leaving the Fifth Avenue restaurant. As Jim continued his journey, he contacted a few other survivors and learned of it. racism did not die when the incident happened—And that it will continue, in fact, continue to the end of the world.