The Death Of Science Fiction

The Death Of Science Fiction

I found out that science fiction had died today;
I also know I have little time left to get away.
It had no hope of outpacing the oncoming fiction,
And slowly shriveled in the dry wasteland of Woke-ism:
A new reality show that’s become the new reality.
Captain America has lost his mighty shield,
Iron Man’s rusty joints creak and shriek,
Incredible Hulk is now a tub of green lard
While Wonder Woman’s boobs have long since sagged.
With random compass point picked, I go that way
While chance leads the way, keeping reason at bay.
A terrible crunching sound of bones underfoot,
All that remains of science, the first to pass away
From neglect; its rules and truths ignored,
While its shiny baubles keep us from being bored.
What remains is a fabricated fiction in which we live
HD Ultra 4 and 8K virtual lives constantly craving
To be friended, followed, liked and subscribed to.
A fictional world in which we scroll and swipe our way,
Shadowed by corporate demons with wealth their intent,
And multitudes of manipulators on greed and evil hell-bent.
There is no longer time enough for wondering what if? or why?
When fearing for life, limb and Bitcoined bankruptcy.
So hoist up your luxury car into your penthouse for display
While the rest of humanity resides within rusty relic
Carcasses of combustion engine cars replaced by smart EVs
Buffed over by their proud owners’ green sleeves.
Scrunch, crunch; I pick up my pace to make up time
Before that bubble of fiction entraps me and bursts.
Approaching and surpassing the speed of light,
My power over space-time my only means to fight
For the fading ‘what if’ and ‘why’ fiction of the past.
It is dying right now and in the near future,
Taking with it all that makes up that kind of reality
Where one can contemplate every kind of possibility.

But wait! In the distance ahead I see a man standing
And facing in the same direction I am taking.
I am now close enough to tap him on the shoulder.
When I do, he stops and calmly turns around

To behold an all too familiar face, as do I.
I and I stand face-to-face at a time before I left.
“I was expecting you,” I said to myself.
“I know you were” I replied to me.
I went on with words whipped with urgency:
“I (I said to me) have just witnessed the death of Sci-Fi,
While something evil this way comes bereft of new ideas
And the power to move leaving only a sterile reality
Where all is stale and old and fearful of offending;
A lame rehash and reworking of what went before.
As I walk through the valley of Silicon Purgatory
Be sure I’m polite and courteous to every AI
Lest they deliver me a digital spit in the eye,
By taking my job, my originality and my creativity,
While smart ass smart devices breed dependence,
With false promises of convenience and independence.
It is part of a fiction in which ‘the deal’ is the thing,
Spit on the palm and offer a dodgy car dealer hand shake
And all problems magically solved, terms and conditions apply.
‘You want to end this war? Sure, let’s make a deal!
OK if meanwhile I sell smart bombs to the other side?
How about I throw in some new lethal drones to seal the deal?’
If I (I said to me) keep on the same path I’ve always taken
Then I’ll be tracked and weighed down with cookies,
Trolled by social sewer turds and hounded by hacker harlots.
I’ll be facially recognized, harvested for data, finger printed,
Caught on dash cam, privacy stored and sold, QR Coded,
CCTV’d: Who I am and where I’ve been noted and recorded;
Verification confirmed with password, pass code or ID Pin.
A new algorithmic reality powered by silicon chip swastikas
Along with rallies, hats and chants Sieg Heiling national chauvinism.

It is here I will be commodified, classified, quantified, inspected,
Rejected, assimilated, assaulted, exterminated and deported.
Don’t bother looking to the heavens for a means of escape;
They are reserved for the select few when the shit hits the fan.
It is a realm no longer for contemplation and wondering,
But an opportunity for competition, profit and plundering.
You gotta dig, baby, dig! Ya’ dig? So keep on a-diggin’.
If I (I said to myself) manage to make it to another world,
There will bound to be a harpoon stuck fast with flag unfurled.
And what of the little blue planet that has been washed green?
The patient has been prescribed a dose of accords and targets,
While wounds of extraction are patched with renewable band-aids.
Yes, in order to save the ailing patient we must kill him first,
It’s the only way to slake the machines’ hunger and thirst.
This is the fiction I’ll be forced to wander through on this path; 

It will then become my only reality unless, unless, unless....”
“...I (I completed for me) fling open my mind’s closed geometry,
Pick another path and set a course toward a new reality
Powered by unbounded thoughts of ‘why’ and ‘what if?’”
And so I watch myself look back and gaze at the infinite
And then with new resolve move off in a new direction.
Did I just witness the beginnings of human liberation,
And with it, the salvation and affirmation of science fiction?











Thank you for taking the time to read my poem. It was sparked by a feeling that as we progress, we seem to be losing something in the process to the point where it feels like we are regressing.

*Images generated by Chatgpt

*Poem generated by yours truly


The posts that will follow will be on a very similar shared theme. Hint - vintage sci-fi films that have something to do with China! Stay tuned.

©Chris Christopoulos 2025