An enduring trope of science fiction is naming of newly imagined gadgets and technologies (often called technobabble with a mixture of humor and derision), as well as naming segments of human and alien societies. In practice, that means renaming already familiar things to add a quasi-futuristic gleam, and it’s a challenge faced by every story that adopts an alternative or futuristic setting: describing the operating rules of the fictional world but with reference to recognizable human characteristics and institutions. A variety of recent Young Adult (YA) fiction has indulged in this naming and renaming, some of which have been made into movies, mostly dystopic in tone, e.g., the Hunger Games tetralogy, the Twilight saga, the Harry Potter series, the Maze Runner, and the Divergent trilogy. (I cite these because, as multipart series, they are stronger cultural touchstones, e.g., Star Wars, than similar once-and-done adult cinematic dystopias, e.g., Interstellar and Elyseum. Star Trek is a separate case, considering how it has devolved after being rebooted from its utopian though militaristic origins into a pointless series of action thrillers set in space.) Some exposition rises to the level of lore but is mostly mere scene-setting removed slightly from our own reality. Similar naming schemes are used in cinematic universes borne out of comic books, especially character names, powers, and origins. Because comic book source material is extensive, almost all of it becomes lore, which is enjoyed by longtime
children initiates into the alternate universes created by the writers and illustrators but mildly irritating to adult moviegoers like me.
History also has names for eras and events sufficiently far back in time for hindsight to provide a clear vantage point. In the U.S., we had the Colonial Era, the Revolutionary Period, The Frontier Era and Wild West, the Industrial/Mechanical Age, Modernism, and Postmodernism, to name a few but by no means all. Postmodernism is already roughly 40 years old, yet we have not yet named the era in which we now live. Indeed, because we’re the proverbial fish inside the fishbowl, unable to recognize the water in which we swim, the contemporary moment may have no need of naming, now or at any given time. That task awaits those who follow. We have, however, given names to the succession of generations following the Baby Boom. How well their signature characteristics fit their members is the subject of considerable debate.
As regular readers of this blog already know, I sense that we’re on the cusp of something quite remarkable, most likely a hard, discontinuous break from our recent past. Being one of the fish in the bowl, I probably possess no better understanding of our current phase of history than the next. Still, if had to choose one word to describe the moment, it would be dissolution. My 4-part blog post about dissolving reality is one attempt to provide an outline. A much older post called aged institutions considers the time-limited effectiveness of products of human social organization. The grand question of our time might be whether we are on the verge of breaking apart or simply transitioning into something new — will it be catastrophe or progress?
News this past week of Britain’s exit from the European Union may be only one example of break-up vs. unity, but the drive toward secession and separatism (tribal and ideological, typically based on bogus and xenophobic identity groups constantly thrown in our faces) has been gaining momentum even in the face of economic globalization (collectivism). Scotland very nearly seceded from the United Kingdom last year; Quebec has had multiple referenda about seceding from Canada, none yet successful; and Vermont, Texas, and California have all flirted with secession from the United States. No doubt some would argue that such examples of dissolution, actual or prospective, are actually transitional, meaning progressive. And perhaps they do in fact fulfill the need for smaller, finer, localized levels of social organization that many have argued are precisely what an era of anticipated resource scarcity demands. Whether what actually manifests will be catastrophe (as I expect it will) is, of course, what history and future historians will eventually name.