Welcome to Biom.
it's already too late.
“Today we have another segment of the editor's desk, a segment which I introduced last month.”
In print magazines, editors notes are an opportunity to hear directly from the editor
who select stories and shapes the direction of the magazine. This week, we're going to talk about the end of the world. I don't have a prediction about when or how the world is going to end. I'll leave that to others, and through the millennia, plenty have tried. Some of the oldest myths that we as humans have, regardless of cultural background, pertain to the ways in which the world will end. These cataclysms are often violent, such as the myths of a ragnarok in which the gods
will fight a final battle against monsters. The resulting battle will destroy the world ahead of a rebirth and a remaking. On a similar note, ancient Aztecs believed our age will end in earthquakes that freed demons, who will then devour humankind, cleansing the world for a new age. This impulse to imagine the end of the world naturally manifests in speculative fiction,
“as the genre that asks, "What if?" What if an incurable disease spreads across the world?”
What if the sun suddenly disappears from the sky? What if nuclear war breaks out? Unique among the genres of fiction, speculative fiction can ask and answer these questions directly and concretely, rather than reaching through metaphor. In a science fiction or fantasy story, when an author writes the world is ending, you begin to imagine the specific events that unfold. Is it a rock from outer space or a squad of bloodthirsty robots? You imagine what it will take
for the characters in the story to try and stop or survive the cataclysm? By contrast, in literary fiction, if the author states the world is ending, you would understandably imagine the author is engaging in hyperbole. You probably won't think the world is actually ending. Instead, you might wonder what the author means by the end and the world. speculative fiction with its
“exploration of concrete scenarios isn't better or worse than literary fiction, but it does illustrate”
that the two types of fiction approach concepts from different starting points and with different creative and cognitive toolkits. Apocalyptic storytelling has been part of the DNA of sci-fi since its inception. It's fitting that Mary Shelley, yes, the very same author who wrote Frankenstein and
who is widely held as one of the first modern sci-fi authors, is also the first to write about
the apocalypse in her dystopian 1826 novel The Last Man. In the last man published almost a decade after Frankenstein, a pandemic wipes out almost everyone on earth with the sole exception of the novel's main character, Lionel Verne. Shelley wrote the novel in the aftermath of the bloody French Revolution and after the rise in fall of Napoleon. By the end of the first quarter of the 19th century, the Enlightenment had drowned in the blood of tens of thousands, raising the question of
whether scientific and social progress was possible, or if instead the idea of progress was all a costly mirage that would lead to unimaginable horror. The plague in the last man isn't explicitly caused by humans, but neither can it be stopped by us, underlining the fact that for all our technological progress, humanity is still often powerless in the face of natural and cosmic forces. It is interesting to note that alien invasions fall into this theme of unstoppable external forces
as well, while extracts restreels are arguably more rational and sometimes, as in the movie
independence day, even beatable, they never the less represent our insecurity that for all our scientific
progress, we are still vulnerable to the forces that are both incomprehensible and far more powerful than we are. The atomic age took apocalyptic sci-fi in an entirely new direction. If prior to nuclear weapons, it was primarily a cold, uncaring world that could wipe out humanity. The emulation of Hiroshima and then Nagasaki made it painfully clear that humanity now has the power to extinguish itself by its own hand. Over the course of the Cold War, millers,
a canticle for liboids, Bradbury's, there will come soft rains, and Asimov's foundation novels, among many, many others sought to channel the new realities of possible self annihilation into new perspectives of humans and our place in the world. More recently, the two thematic strands of intertwined. In many climate change stories, such as the 2004 film The Day After Tomorrow, the irresponsible use of technology unleashes unstoppable natural forces, destroying life as we
know it, and ushering in a terrifying and unfamiliar world. In others, such as the 2021 film don't look up, humanity has the tools to divert the type of calamity that would have been unstoppable
In prior centuries, but our inability to work together dooms us as a species.
has generally followed a different arc. In sci-fi, the end of the world is something that is yet
“to happen, mirroring the way sci-fi generally focuses on the future. In fantasy,”
cataclysm is often something that has already occurred. From Tolkien, to Conan the Barbarian, to the broken earth trilogy, many classic stories take place amid ruins. The golden city has
fallen. The powerful magic is lost. The dragon has flown away. The earliest fantasy stories we
have with these apocalyptic moods are much younger than what we have for science fiction, and they seem to have blossomed in the aftermath of the first world war. Lord Duncini of Ireland with his short atmospheric protophantasy, Tolkien with his legendarium, and CS Lewis with his narnia stories, formed the literary scaffolding on which much of today's fantasy fiction stands.
“Strikingly, it's notable that just as the convulsions of the French Revolution and the Napoleonic”
Wars in the 19th century inspired apocalyptic science fiction, so the fantasy genre was inspired
by the cataclysm's of the first half of the 20th century. In a way, then, fantasy is the first
modern, post-apocalyptic genre. While the science fiction of the early 20th century was still largely dreaming of sending rockets to Mars, fantasy stories imagined societies that flourished in the ruins of greatness. If we have to ascribe a role that fantasy stories often play, it is that of stories that guide us through the darkness. In these stories, we often see resilience in the face of decay, hope in the face of loss, and poignant, sublime love for the past,
while recognizing the need to move forward. It seems then that our modern literary tradition and speculative fiction in particular invites new approaches to imagining the end of the world in roughly 100-year cycles. If we agree that modern fantasy was born somewhere between 1930 and 1950, then it would seem that today, in 2026, we may be due for a new perspective on apocalypse
“and doomsday. I think many of us may be yearning for innovation in the ways that we imagine and”
discuss the end times, which at first sounds a bit strange to say, but if apocalypse in science fiction
and fantasy serves as a lens through which we can critique progress, rationalism, and cult hypocrisy, then maybe a fresh literary angle on apocalyptic literature is precisely what we need in an age that leaves so many of us feeling powerless in the face of automation, technology, and vast faceless bureaucracies. As with all revolutions, regardless of whether they are cultural, technological, political, or otherwise, it's hard to say what form our revolution in apocalyptic thinking
will take. Maybe some form of hope punk or solar punk will help us dream our way through our contemporary crises. Maybe the next major form of speculative fiction is not yet born, and when it comes into its own will be as different from fantasy fiction in the 20th century as fantasy was from sci-fi that arose in the 19th century. Whatever form they take, apocalypse stories will continue to serve as warnings, critiques, and yes, temporary escapes from the world as we know it here and now,
and biome will be here to share those stories with you. Switching subjects a little, if you haven't already seen my interview with Nicholas Packwood, it's on Patreon as a written exchange. We've posted four of these written interviews on Patreon so far, and they're really fascinating, so don't miss them. The link to each is in the show notes. Next week, I'm excited to share my interview with Grigori Lukin, author of our fourth story, after you catch them all. Right here,
wherever you're listening to this podcast. If you're enjoying the stories, the interviews and the editorials from biome, make sure you're subscribed. Better still, share this podcast with a friend who loves a good, nerdy take on fantasy, sci-fi, and all things speculative. Let's grow this community together. But for now, dear listener, farewell, wherever the days take you. (upbeat music)
