It seems the basic reason that the sociologies of gender and science intersecting matters is this: that intersection is what foregrounds the historical and contemporary controversy about what it means to have ‘life.’
HINDSIGHT 2020? Is this how 2020 — ANNUS MIRABILIS of COVID-19, global CLIMATE catastrophe, and Galloping toward THE SINGULARITY, the three slathering horsemen of the Apocalypse called POSTHUMANISM — will be remembered? In the indomitable true spirit of Sci-fi, Scott Coon’s debut venture Lost Helix reminds us that we should be looking back too as we move forward into an unknown future…..
By Scott Coon
After the system kids finished their celebration, DJ waited while Paul changed. Then they headed to DJ’s empty apartment for an unsupervised night of violent video games. As the elevator whooshed them toward residential level nine, Paul made an announcement. “I’ve decided not to wait. I have the money, and I don’t need their worthless diploma in the mining arts. After the championship, I’m bouncing out of this human habit trail.”
For the first time in their lives, Paul’s pipedream felt real. He could feel it already.
He tightened his jaw. “Have you even figured out how you’re going to get off the station? They bring our food in by drones, and the shuttles are locked down. Did you come up with something else?”
Paul grinned from ear to ear. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. Unlike school, I’ve been studying for this. There are more ways off this station than you think. It’s more a matter of choice at this point. I’ll be sending you a holo from New Greene.”
New Greene. DJ couldn’t imagine a place like New Greene, where you could go outside without a pressure suit and walk around under a sky. It would be strange. It would also be strange to be here without Paul. Paul was right. His dad was right. DJ needed to figure something out before Black Mountain figured it out for him. He didn’t want to be a miner, but he didn’t want to be a farmer, either. But how could he become anything else?
He didn’t know.
DJ managed a meager smile. “I hope I get that message, but I don’t want to see your body floating outside my window.”
Paul snorted. “You’ll never see my body floating outside your window. I’d aim my body at the corporate center and try to smash in an executive’s window, all big and flashy the way I like it. You should come with me.”
DJ jerked his head back. “What? Smashing through a window?”
Paul smacked DJ’s shoulder. “No, jack-knob, to New Greene! What do you have keeping you here? Not like you have any plans or a girlfriend or money or friends, besides me, really, or…”
Every new age thinks it has invented the world. So I have now finished watching the Amazon Prime Video series “Modern Love.” All 8 episodes. And I beg your pardon, there are 8 episodes, not 7 as I said in my earlier post about this series. But then I’m so fuddy-duddy, so not in the right place at the right time. But. Besides proof positive for my inkling that according to our culture’s Olympian law-givers in New York City “modern” love ONLY happens in New York City — the modern is always deja vu all over again only there —…