Zero Hashes

I've compiled a timeline of cyberpunk books that, in my opinion, represent significant shifts in the genre and its ideas.

Whether it's the early explorations of AI and dystopian futures, the emergence of virtual reality, or the more recent reflections on environmental and social issues, each book on this list adds a unique perspective to the ever-evolving cyberpunk landscape.

1. “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” by Philip K. Dick (1968): To me, it all begins here. This novel, which served as the basis for the movie “Blade Runner”, popularized the groundwork for many cyberpunk themes like artificial intelligence, dystopian future, and the blurred line between reality and the artificial.

2. “Neuromancer” by William Gibson (1984): Often considered the genre defining work, it introduced the concept of cyberspace and explored themes of artificial intelligence and corporate power, and to me it indirectly set the core principle of the genre, “high tech, low life”.

3. “Snow Crash” by Neal Stephenson (1992): This book further pushed the envelope on the concept of virtual reality, offering a blend of ancient cultures, linguistics, computer science, politics, and philosophy, and fucking added fun to the genre.

4. “Ghost in the Shell” by Masamune Shirow (1995): I cheat a little big here by adding a manga series. It deserves a mention, along with the movie, because it dives deeply into the themes of self-identity, artificial intelligence, and societal intrigue that really brought cyberpunk to the world. It had a profound influence on cyberpunk literature and media after it's conception.

5. “Altered Carbon” by Richard K. Morgan (2002): This may be a little controversial, as I don't really like the author to be honest, but this novel adds more depth to themes of identity and humanity through the concept of consciousness transfer and immortality.

6. “Accelerando” by Charles Stross (2005): This one added weight to the genre by exploring the societal and personal changes that might happen as a result of the technological singularity, a theoretical point when technological growth becomes uncontrollable and irreversible. I personally dig this aspect, and try to write more of it.

7. “Windup Girl”, by Paolo Bacigalupi (2009): I know, I know, “biopunk”. But I refuse to budge on it. To me this retains the core concept of cyberpunk, and is cyberpunk, because it is about technology, and its effect on quality of life and society. But the simple fact that the novel brings this discussion makes it a remarkable point in the genre.

8. “Ready Player One” by Ernest Cline (2011): Another controversial addition here, but this book is a blend of dystopian future with nostalgia for the pop culture of the 1980s, and revives themes of virtual reality and the influence of technology on society, giving breadth (and a new breath) to the genre.

9. “The Ministry for the Future” by Kim Stanley Robinson (2020): This near-future novel tackles themes around climate change and global politics, focusing on the power of technology as a tool to combat environmental disaster, and offers a more optimistic view of the future. I like this one here because it brings the discussion to current topics, maintaining the genre alive.

10. “Repo Virtual” by Corey J. White (2020): White's novel explores cyberpunk in an age of late capitalism, AI, and questions about sentience and autonomy. Along with Ministry of The Future, this serve the same purpose of maintaining the genre purpose alive and bringing us to the point we are now, which is also a good concept that I agree with: it doesn't need to be about things far away in the future, because soon some of these novels will be about things in the past, and the genre must remain the same still.

In my previous post, I began inquiring about how the new generation will deal with the omnipresence of AI models in their daily lives, and how would we maintain a community in an age of eloquent bots.

Before going there, I thought I should start by telling what I know about getting here, to begin with. So, this is the tale of a kid's quest for text expressions...

The digital growls were a symphony to the kid, like the feeling of liberation when you finally slip your wrists free from steel shackles, despite mangled fingers.

The rite had been fulfilled, and he was now surfing the boundless waves of the world wide web. For some, it'd be about catching up on the latest buzz from their rock idol's fan club or indulging in the thrill of downloading a risqué image. But for the kid, it was his cue to voice his thoughts.

Countless rooms lay before him, each dedicated to a particular subject or location, offering a platform for the kid to voice his thoughts, comments, and grievances. Each one brimming with fellow cybernauts sharing similar interests.

In this realm, he joined clubs, absorbed knowledge from others' experiences, connected with new individuals, reconnected with familiar faces from around the globe, or occasionally met familiar faces pretending to be new individuals. It was chaotic, unpredictable, and fun.

He was a faceless enigma, all that mattered was his messages’ content, and the flair with which he could craft text-editing scripts and bots for entertainment. Flaunting the pirated tunes he was playing on Winamp was a coveted skill, an emblem of supremacy reflecting his command over his computer's capabilities.

This was how the kid spent the bulk of his online hours: discovering hidden online sites untouched by search engine crawlers, sharing news about the next big video game, or simply engaging in light-hearted banter about everything and nothing. This was IRC, a lawless territory, with only the fear of the virtual quake known as net splits disrupting the conversation.

However, as with all things tech-related, new eras begin, systems become obsolete. It wasn't the allure of instant messaging platforms like ICQ or MSN that snagged the kid's curiosity, though, it was something else. A realm that allowed him not just to trade messages, but to create a digital representation of himself, a hero, or even a villain when he so desired. In this virtual reality, known as Ragnarok Online, he'd do far more than merely converse; he'd slay monsters, forge weapons, and uncover rare treasures that could bring him virtual riches.

He joined a guild, sworn in as a foot soldier, battling to hold dominion over the pixelated universe. Every Sunday afternoon, he donned the mantle of protector, a shield for his band's virtual strongholds. His digital personas: a mage who conjured meteor showers into the field, and a blacksmith, a craftsman and a purveyor of shiny gold pieces. In this way, he bartered his skills for camaraderie.

Yet, as time spun by, he sensed something was off. This wasn't the raw anarchy of the Internet Relay Chat, the old digital frontier. This place had norms, had guidelines, lacked the wild unpredictability, the soul siblings he could truly vibe with. This was... different. He began to navigate this strange realm, shuffling between characters and domains, on a quest for that elusive missing piece. Eventually, he resigned to the reality that something had been lost in translation. Maybe it was irretrievable. So, he shrugged, chose to move forward, immersing himself in his role, and engaging in small talk with tradesmen and wanderers in the grand hall of Prontera, all the while peddling his expertise to the one with the heaviest purse.

And then, it happened again. No more shrouds, no more anonymity. It was time to reveal your true identity, to unmask the kid behind the enigma. Social media was buzzing. No, it wasn't Facebook, not quite yet. It was Orkut, the digital republic where freedom was plentiful, but restraints were subtly suggested. You could remain incognito if you preferred, but faceless profiles didn't attract many chats. People yearned for a genuine interaction, something akin to real-life conversation. Orkut was fun, filled with clubs to connect with, laugh together, share tales. But the pressure to reveal yourself was immense. This wasn't what he was in search of. Creativity was still present, but stifled. All profiles seemed to be molded from the same template, a detailed breakdown of self. And every detail needed to be catchy, intriguing, unique. The badge of supremacy no longer shone for tech skills but now for your social prowess.

Friends and testimonials could be amassed like pokemon. But unlike pokemon, these “friends” were not there to take on challenges or seek shared adventures, they were just a tally. Conversations were relegated to public forums, where the aim was to ignite the most incendiary debate. Clever tactics were cheered on, memes and click-baits were born. The kid did not see the sense in bringing real life to the virtual world, it felt redundant to him, so he retreated. He went back to the local chats in his favorite multiplayer games, the best sanctuary he could find.

Years have scrolled by now, a chasm has opened up from the digital hustle and bustle of social media. Here we are, in the present. The kid has struck a harmony between his online and offline identities, comfortably meandering in the relative obscurity of forums and undemanding platforms like Reddit, whilst simultaneously broadcasting his memories and moments on Instagram. He's relinquished the pursuit of reclaiming the IRC's enchantment. All landscapes have been charted, norms and guidelines have become the new norm. There's no more hide and seek. Every pixel is claimed by one conglomerate or another, with user input nothing more than fodder for data analysis.

The privacy battle is lost, there's no point straddling a lifeless horse. But the relics of the past still linger, some revamped, reshaped, repurposed, but enduring nonetheless. There's no rule against using them, if you're so inclined. And there's no need to conform to the prescribed methods, or the crowd's expectations. You're free to imprint your own style, which is exactly what the kid attempts.

Communities aren't fashioned from the scaffolding and edicts imposed by a corporation. They're built on spontaneity, empathy and kindness, with a generous sprinkling of the unpredictability of chance encounters.

The world was sticky and overcast, a little girl ambled down a pathway to a freshly scooped earth cradle, her mother shadowing her every move. Friends around stood still as cemetery stones, their heads tilted, expressing silent condolences for her loss. As she knelt at the small grave, her Tamagotchi made its final journey from her hands into its new earthly abode, a parting scene flooded with the salty tracks of her tears. Symbolically, a handful of dirt cascaded onto the gadget, sealing it in a backyard tomb, perhaps to become future power for an advanced society.

Every time my wife recounts her childhood digital pet's burial, that scene plays on my head. A glimpse into the wild innocence of the nineties. Those were days where pixelated dinosaurs roamed the earth, and the birth of consumer tech as a peculiar kind of enchantment, joyous and odd, but also murky. In those days, becoming a techno-wizard was my modest ambition, and the act of getting to know someone rarely involved a search engine.

From there, everything started to move at hyper-speed. Our evenings were often spent muzzling dial-up modems with pillows, so the family could sleep while we masqueraded on IRC, or spend an eternity downloading a single MP3 file from Kazaa. Down the line, we surrendered our social identities and credit card numbers to the web's gaping maw, seeking a remedy for an existential malaise that was ever on the rise. The magic of it all, right? Jobs as a modern Gandalf? Or was he more like Saruman? Eh? Ok. It leads me to ponder on what magical realm my daughter and her generation will preside over. This business of assigning labels to generations is chaotic, that much is clear. It seems we've sprinted through more generational markers in the last 20 years than I have fingers on one hand. It's a bit of a shambles, honestly. Someone should fix it.

However, it's a different question that tugs at my curiosity more: in a world where our future wizards are shrouding themselves in inscrutable black boxes, what does that mean for us, the humble onlookers? These fledgling conjurors, these chanters of digital incantations, they're on the cusp of embedding themselves into the fabric of our existence, and this time we have our eyes on the target, squinting. The landscape is poised to shift, with monoliths toppling, death tolls rising, and people getting screwed once again. For us, the wannabe-magicals, where will we be amidst this? If we seek connection, there'll be a simulation for that. If we wish to create art, there'll be an algorithm for that. And if we're after answers, we'll find no shortage of programmed responses. There's an anthem humming in the background of it all, hinting at a potent future lying dormant in our wake. Yet, the catch is, these aren't true wizards, they're proficient scholars dressed in mimicry.

There's a certain smug satisfaction we take in heralding the free-flow of information, in crafting a cyber realm where piracy is commonplace. We've already had our fingers burned once by entrusting corporations rather than communities. Now, we're witnessing the same tale unfold once more, starkly unhidden, unblinkingly observed. Yet, the whirlwind speed of it all is dizzying to track. A forecast is evident: we're en route to becoming serfs to gourmet autocomplete machines. It promises to be a harsh landing. Buckle up.

However, and this is my two cents, combating this isn't about staging a coup or forsaking your carnivorous habits, you can still use your chat GPT, it’s a good assistant. This is more about hitting pause, observing the chaos, and stubbornly steering back towards the warm shores of human engagement. Dive into a community, let your voice echo, and dare to speak your truth. Contribute, aid, invent, bring joy, become a part of something larger. These are the actions that mark us as the pixel-dappled dinosaurs of our epoch. I assure you, from a snake oil salesman to another, such a path offers a contented end. Well, at least there will still be art.