Humor in science fiction futures

Watched the end of an episode of “Star Trek: The Next Generation” in which a Star Fleet Academy cadet named Wesley Crusher resigned his commission as an officer in training to follow his own path while studying with The Traveler.

In the episode, a group of people called Cardassians are completing annexation of a planet that hosts what appear to be the same Native Americans (also known as American Indians) on the North American continent.

At the end of the episode, a Cardassian leader states that he has to go because he has a lengthy report to write.

Got me thinking…have we only advanced so far centuries from now that our leaders will still spend unlikable lengths of time summarising previous events in objects we call reports? [at least as seen from the 1990s perspective of television screenwriters]

Admittedly, we create shows for the tellie to get fellow humans within our contemporary timeframe to watch and subsequently react in such a way that it creates passive/active demand for more shows/episodes on the tellie/smartphone/rebroadcast device/method.

Analysing an acted-out screenplay for more than entertainment is itself an act of unlikable length.

However, how we fill the gaps between the perceived states of birth and death is where we’re at in this blog, in the universe, if you will.

We have a limited time to spend with each other, temporarily in the moment or for the length of our lives.

= = = = =

Guin looked back at the blog entry, wondering if Shadowgrass had spent any time absorbing the lessons within.

Shadowgrass never thought in terms of pure humanness, never saw life as anything more than a biomech mesh, a particular Martian mix of sets of states of energy in motion.

Although Shadowgrass operated within the comfortable confines of temporal linear flow, Shadowgrass also worked outside of spacetime just as comfortably.

Lee and Guin had been born in the realm of primarily understood spacetime, accepting concepts of past, present and future as facts, rather than imaginary labels.

Shadowgrass had no preconception of time, no need to extrapolate future trends from current events.

Guin smiled.

She and Lee did not know what would happen when they conceived Shadowgrass but they trusted their lack of knowledge about Shadowgrass’ capabilities.

Sometimes telling yourself “I don’t know” is the best design approach — make an object from the stuff of the universe and let it go, even if historical documents make the object look antiquated with time.

Guin sent a hug to Lee.

Lee, working with the tenth generation spinoff of Shadowgrass on the moon Titan, felt the hug pass through him and returned the energy renewal effort back to her.

They rarely said “I love you,” showing rather than telling each other.

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