It seems we’re using science fiction as a roadmap to make our dreams, and more often nightmares, come true. Why is it that we manufacture a nightmarish future and refuse to heed the warnings so clearly outlined by creators of such iconic works as “Interstellar,” “Wall-E,” “Westworld” and “Frankenstein?” 

It’s as if we are actively treating these creative works as a blueprint for our own worst-case scenarios, reinforcing and creating self-fulfilling prophecies, and ensuring that life will imitate art against our better instincts and judgments. Why is it that we fear the future so instinctively? It’s almost as if we set ourselves up for moral failure. 

For better or for worse, our rendering of the future is clouded by sci-fi depictions. It’s important to deconstruct our cognitive dissonance surrounding technological advancement because, if we can’t see the real boogeymen, we may fall into the same traps that we so fear. 

Iconic works of science fiction are not only analogous to, but often directly influential on, our collective imagination and renderings of the potential that new technologies may allow for. To reach a better understanding of our complex relationship with the futures that lie just beyond the horizon, it’s paramount that we deconstruct and fully interpret what exactly it is that we fear and hope for. 

Maybe what terrifies us most isn’t killer robots, alien overlords or reanimated corpses. We don’t fear the potential that technological advancements bring; we fear what havoc they may wreak when placed in the wrong hands. 

We fear an encroachment on our rights and freedoms, a shoving of new technologies down our throats. What we dread most is inevitability and inescapability. 

Jennifer Alexander, an associate professor of the history of science, technology and medicine at the University of Minnesota, said our fears revolving around technology can generally be boiled down to two categories, which can best be explained through the case studies of the inventions of the automobile and now artificial intelligence. 

People actively choosing to drive was terrifying to people back then, Alexander said. Today, people’s fear of AI is that it will proliferate without our consent. Alexander classifies these as two different kinds of fears that occur in the wake of a new invention.

To a large extent, we fear our human potential, not great intellectual feats, alien machinery or a whole new world. We fear our potential for great evils and indiscretions against our flesh, whether that be against our fellow man or our instinctual nature. We fear our potential to subjugate or be subjugated by our fellow man through the vehicle that technology may provide. 

We fear our ability to pervert nature’s limitations and see the potential in any invention as bringing us one step closer to the forbidden fruit. Our ambitions toward a better life serve as the snake, urging us to eat the apple that is further knowledge and play god through our relentless tendency to optimize and innovate. 

We’re able to separate our material reality from crude notions of some transhumanist dystopia to an extent, but some issues cross lines that exhibit such a visceral reaction from us that we have no choice but to revel in just how far we’ve come. 

Some notable examples as of recently include panics around vaccinations and gender-affirming care. We fear the unnatural and unfamiliar, and draw lines in the sand of what exactly is immutable to our human spirit and material reality. Because if one may subvert what is most sacred and fundamental, what is next? More importantly, what is real?

The birth of science fiction came from these exact fears, from a biblically-rooted, pseudo-instinctual apprehension to knowing too much, or subverting our true nature. Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein” is considered by many to be the first true science-fiction novel. 

It deals with fears of cheating death through the story of a scientist who, in his delusions of grandeur and unabashed disregard for human life and all things sacred, creates a literal monster. There are many allusions to Genesis in the novel, cementing its place as a cautionary tale we would never grow tired of continually applying to an ever-modernizing world. 

Alexander said a central theme of “Frankenstein” is misunderstood. Shelley’s cautionary tale of unfettered ambition also serves as a cautionary tale of senseless superstition, warning us to loosen our tight grip on what we’ve always known. 

“In the story itself, it’s so fascinating,” Alexander said. “I think she’s more saying, if we do modern science, whatever was modern science in 1818, we’ll be safer. What’s worse is to go back to this older science, which was mixed with magic.”

Maybe the true lesson we should take away is that we shouldn’t act as necromancers for old ways of life against our better judgment or common sense. The legacy cemented by “Frankenstein” lies not only in the realm of horror, but it has also indirectly saved lives. 

Dr. Luis Felipe Eguiarte Souza, a curator at the Pavek Museum, said the concept of using electricity to bring someone back to life via a pacemaker was inspired by “Frankenstein.” 

“Mary Shelley was inspired by the new inventions and discoveries around electricity, the Galvani effect, where they moved the little frog legs and Volta’s battery, and she was like, ‘What if that unlocked the keys of life, and we can bring someone back from the death with that?’” Eguiarte Souza said. “That later inspired one of our founders of the Pavek Museum, Earl Bakken, to create the wearable pacemaker.”

Maybe it’s a good thing that life can imitate art in this way. 

Science fiction, in its most charitable and optimistic interpretations, can render concepts that most may not even dream of, creating entirely new avenues for thinking about the potential and limits of what we may do to advocate for the betterment of society.

Eguiarte Souza said that science fiction often creates a feedback loop for innovation. 

“There’s a little device in the ‘Star Trek’ original series called the tricorder,” Eguiarte Souza. “It’s a little device that they hold and they can learn about what makes you sick or what’s happening to any living organism. And apparently, the creator of the MRI machine was inspired by that.”

It’s best to embrace nuance in our depictions and interpretations of technology and its future implications. We need to see not only the potential but the drawbacks, and not shy away from what we so truly desire. 

In the wrong hands, these technologies can be weaponized, but instead of halting all progress to our own detriment, why don’t we examine the exact ways we can prevent the worst from happening? 

Maybe a rewatch of “Wall-E” is a step in the right direction toward truly grasping what governs our elusive present and future. As always, media literacy is paramount, as is advocacy for what is right and just.