This week, Futures is heading off to the movies in the company of Hal Y Zhang and her story Jurassic Jaws Jones. Life as an actor has never been easy, but, as Hal reveals, it’s going to get a whole lot worse. You can find out more about Hal’s work at her website. Here, she talks about what inspired her latest tale — as ever, it pays to read the story first.

Writing Jurassic Jaws Jones

When we think about career fields that might be replaced by machines, the arts are not usually what come to mind first. But the resurgence of neural networks is a watershed moment in artificial intelligence and computer science, and neural AIs are particularly adept at certain tasks that were previously believed to be easily doable only by humans.

The basic concept of a neural network is quite simple: make an artificial neuron by multiplying each input by a weight, add them together, then apply a nonlinearity filter, which very roughly resembles signal propagation in a real neuron. By assembling these units into webs and optimizing the weights, we’ve made neural AIs that meld the style and content of artworks, generate new Bach cantatas and play video games expertly without instructions.

These are tasks that were widely thought to require some amount of undefinable ‘humanness’, yet are now easily performed by networks with a minuscule fraction of the 100 billion neurons in the brain. I don’t think it’s absurd to envision a near-term future where much of our entertainment and more comes from machines, and that’s not exactly an entertaining prospect.

Paul Alex Gray makes his debut in Futures this week with his story Memories to come. When Paul’s not writing stories he can be found at his website or on Twitter. Here, he reveals some of the thought processes that went into creating his latest tale — as ever, it pays to read the story first.

Writing Memories to come

Consider a child hosting a ‘tea party’ with their toys: teddy bears and stuffies sitting in a circle, tiny plastic plates and tea cups set before them. The child, politely takes requests and serves imaginary cookies and sweets. We have an inherent desire to simulate reality: to create scenarios, establish rules, norms and behaviours, and to enact these.

This continues into the digital realm, with simulation-like experiences being one of the most popular video-game genres. From Sim City to Second Life to Minecraft, people happily create new worlds, filled with people, places and things. Some of these worlds can be almost as richly detailed and imagined as parts of our real world.

With technology giants investing in augmented-reality and virtual-reality technologies, we’re seeing a glimpse of the future. It doesn’t seem that far off that we’ll be able to put on a headset, slip on some haptic gloves and go out to explore someplace entirely new.

These imagined worlds will become more complex, intricate and immersive. We’ll be told that anything is possible, that we can step out into ancient history to see pyramids being built, set sail on the high seas or venture forth into new galaxies. The messaging is one of optimism and excitement for new discoveries and utopias.

Yet real life is never perfect. Many people face or have faced traumatic or difficult experiences and live with fear, regret, anger or sorrow. For someone experiencing the pain of grief, whose effects may never truly be overcome … What world would they create? Something new? Or something lost.

 If you could choose to live within an imagined world — or the real one — which would you choose?

The story Sparrowfall marks a welcome return to Futures for Robert Dawson, whose last Futures tale offered a chilling view of the future of advertising. This time, he’s looking at another application of technology — and how it may or may not help. Here he talks about the ideas behind the tale — as ever, it pays to read the story first.

Writing Sparrowfall

I wrote this story to explore the limitations of ‘intelligent’ systems. A self-driving car may have reflexes faster than a Formula 1 driver, and never be tired or tipsy — but can it predict when a child’s football will roll into the street and its owner follow?

In the same way, it’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking that a habitat, whether city or space ship, with ubiquitous sensory devices, machines to act on its behalf, and enough computing power to coordinate them all,  would almost be its own tutelary deity. The title (echoing Matthew 10:29) and the apple-picker at the beginning of the story are, of course, meant to encourage the reader to consider this idea.

But the city, although giving a superficial appearance of omniscience and programmed to be benevolent, or at least helpful, is limited in its powers. It has not been designed to respond to all emergencies, and its programmers have deliberately required it to respect the free will of all the inhabitants. It wasn’t built to be a god, and it can’t save the woman from herself.

Wendy Nikel’s story Let me sleep when I die marks a welcome return to Futures. Wendy has previously taken us on a visit to The memory ward, where some dark secrets were revealed. Her latest tale offers a similar exploration of the unspoken past. You can keep up to date with Wendy’s work at her website or by following her on Twitter. Here she discusses the inspiration behind her new story — as ever it pays to read the tale first.

Writing Let me sleep when I die

Let me sleep when I die began with a flash contest and a writing prompt (courtesy of Vylar Kaftan) in which we were provided with a list of songs in the public domain. Within that list was a song entitled ‘Down in the Deep, Let Me Sleep When I Die’, with music by H. W. Petrie and words by W. L. Titus. Although this song is about a sailor who wishes to be buried at sea, I took only the second half of the title to come up with my idea.

Medical and technological advancements constantly push humanity towards a higher quality of life and extended lifespans, and most would agree that these are positive goals. But if death weren’t the only option, how many would still choose it for themselves and their loved ones? How would this complicate end-of-life issues?

I also wanted to explore generational differences in looking at this question. Adult children are often put in the position of caring for and making medical decisions for their ageing parents, which can be a difficult task. Those in the older generation have seen and experienced things that their children and grandchildren have not, and — such as the case in this story — it may lead them to perceive things quite differently and may lead them to make a different decision entirely.

Special thanks to those who gave me comments and feedback on my initial draft of this story!