Over the last few posts we’ve covered the Fermi Problem and hypotheses, which of the hypotheses sci-fi likes to write about, and which of the hypotheses it’s strategic to write about. This brings us back around to Forbidden Planet.
As a species, we’re faced with a number of big problems that need solving. Some feel more abstract than others, but it sure would suck if we were wrong about that. And while sci-fi can be pure escapism, when it does, hopefully it serves as a mild indulgence rather than something which lets us ignore problems in the real world. As I’ve said before, it is part of my mission with this blog to get readers to not just watch sci-fi but to use it; to understand its effects and limitations; to decide how believable its scenarios are; and to think about the lessons you can take back with you to the real world.
This is why Forbidden Planet is such a stellar movie for me.
It is a singular example (in the survey at least) of humans encountering an ancient, vastly advanced, dead civilization through the “ruins” of its technology. There was no tense tête–à–tête diplomacy, or sexily-foreign green aliens to seduce, or any of those other Terran imperialist thrills.
I don’t want to demean its historical importance. It came at a time in cinematic history after a few decades where Hollywood created little more sci-fi than space opera for kids, and it proved enough of a commercial and critical success that suddenly sci-fi was a serious consideration for big budget attention. That meant broader reach, and more people thinking about speculative futures. (Heck, it meant enough serious sci-fi that I could keep a blog about the genre. So, you know, thanks for that.)
But more than its historical importance is that it’s the best model of a likely future. Just this past May, Adam Frank (an astrophysicist at the University of Rochester) and Woodruff Sullivan published “A New Empirical Constraint on the Prevalence of Technological Species in the Universe.” In the paper they note that the 1,284 new exoplanets discovered by the Kepler observatory scientists puts some lower-limit constraints on a few factors in the Drake equation.
“Three of the seven terms in Drake’s equation are now known. We know the number of stars born each year. We know that the percentage of stars hosting planets is about 100. And we also know that about 20 to 25 percent of those planets are in the right place for life to form. This puts us in a position, for the first time, to say something definitive about extraterrestrial civilizations—if we ask the right question.”
Their work suggests that the odds are in favor of finding alien life—but finding evidence of it long dead. They suggest a shift in our attentions away from contacting a living civilization, towards cosmic archaeology. You know, like Forbidden Planet illustrates.
Frankly it could stop there and be canonized for that purpose, but the film goes one better
We still don’t have great constraints for the other troubling component of Drake’s equation, and that’s how long technological civilizations tend to last. That question in turn raises the darker question of what tends to doom those civilizations. One possibility is that it is that technology itself is the thing, which is, again, what Forbidden Planet illustrates.
This is a blog about sci-fi interfaces, and I presume that readers are, like me, directly involved in shaping technology. So it is that this 60 year-old film has a one-two punch. It shows us both what the future will probably be like, and then turns our attention to something we can think about—and work to make right—now.
And that’s sci-fi we can use.
Thank you for giving so much thought and attention to one of the greatest films ever made. It’s interesting to contemplate what a “dead” highly advanced society might constitute, given the possibilities of immortal AIs.
The technology of the Krell was essentially immortal, thanks to some kind of practically infinite energy source and self-repairing capabilities. But it completely lacked self-awareness. It was just a big, dumb tool waiting for a superior mind to harness it (albeit imperfectly).
So what really happened to the Krell? Were they on the verge of self-aware AI, but managed to off themselves through some other relatively mundane mechanism (disease, radiation, etc)? Or, did a true AGI emerge and then kill all the biologics? What happened to that AGI? Having nothing to do for millennia, perhaps it went insane or “died” of boredom. Or…left the planet altogether.
Whatever the case for that fictional scenario, these are exciting times for the emerging field of exoarchaeology!
The most we know from the film is when Doc Ostrow disobeys orders and submits to the full power of the mind-expanding Plastic Educator. Somehow the experience gives him the full deets, and as he is dying, he has the following exchange with Commander Adams.
Ostrow: “The Krell had completed their project. That big machine. No instrumentalities. True creation.”
Adams: “Doc, let’s have it.
Ostrow: “But the Krell forgot one thing.”
Adams: “Yes, what?
Ostrow: “Monsters, John. Monsters from the Id.”
So, the implication is that when they gave themselves the power to freely manifest thoughts as realities, their dark subconscious manifested terrible, uncontrollable things that destroyed them. A Psychology Ex Machina.
I don’t believe it had anything to do with AI per say, just a world-bending mind-enhancement machine.
“just a world-bending mind-enhancement machine.”
This may be exactly how future archaeologists describe the internet.
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Well, Robbie was pretty clearly an AI, built from preliminary studies of the Krell tech.
But “The Invisible Boy”, the other Robbie movie, gives a pretty good story about an AI that tries to take over the world, Colossus-style.
It’s a fun movie. Clearly aimed at kids, but yeah, does beg comparisons to Colossus.