Kevin Kelly’s latest essay introduced me to a concept I hadn’t quite considered before: the “exoself.” Not a humanoid robot, but an AI that becomes an extension of our own minds through memory, context, and continuity. The more I thought about it, the more I realized we may already be taking the first steps toward that future—one useful conversation at a time.
Canada Day always reminds me how many of my favourite science fiction writers turn out to be Canadian. From celebrated authors to passionate fandom and the Aurora Awards, Canada has quietly made an outsized contribution to speculative fiction—and it’s a legacy I’m proud to be part of.
Ridley Scott is one of those directors whose films automatically move to the top of my watch list. But after the disappointment of Gladiator II, I’m approaching his return to science fiction with a little more caution than usual. Based on the trailer for The Dog Stars, though, there are plenty of reasons for optimism—from its apparent focus on human relationships to Scott’s long history of creating unforgettable science fiction worlds.
National Eat Vegetables Day may seem like an unlikely inspiration for a science fiction discussion, but current debates about meat consumption raise fascinating questions about the future. As health concerns, environmental pressures, and changing social attitudes converge, SF readers are uniquely positioned to ask where these trends might lead. Will meat remain a permanent feature of human civilization, or will future generations view it as an outdated and unsustainable practice?
Modern smartphones have become surprisingly capable astronomy cameras, making it easier than ever to capture stars, planets, and even the Milky Way. But the real appeal isn’t the technology—it’s the experience of looking up at the night sky and connecting with the vast universe beyond our everyday concerns. For science fiction readers, photographing the cosmos can be a powerful reminder of why we look to the stars in the first place.
For years, science fiction seemed determined to convince us the future would be smaller, darker, and more cynical than the present. But readers never actually abandoned space opera. They still wanted starships, exploration, galactic civilizations, and futures worth fighting for. Now, as film, television, and publishing slowly rediscover large-scale science fiction, it feels like space opera is finally stepping back into the spotlight — jet packs and all.
The new Dune 3 trailer should have filled me with anticipation. Instead, it left me uneasy. Not because Denis Villeneuve lacks skill as a filmmaker—far from it—but because the films seem determined to undercut Paul Atreides’ triumph before it ever truly lands. Which raises a larger question: Have modern storytellers become afraid of heroic endings? From Dune to grimdark fantasy to prestige science fiction, modern stories increasingly distrust hope, sincerity, and unapologetic victory. But is that really what audiences want—or simply what the industry keeps giving them?
Why has “agentic AI” suddenly become the term everyone’s using? What looks like an overnight trend is really the visible edge of a rapid shift—from passive tools to systems that can act, decide, and iterate. For science fiction readers, it’s a familiar moment: the future we’ve long imagined beginning to take shape, with all the promise—and unease—that implies.
Star Wars has been part of my life for as long as I can remember—and, in a very real way, it helped shape my career as a writer. But decades on, the question isn’t why it began. It’s why it never seems to end. As new generations discover it and older ones drift away, Star Wars continues to renew itself in ways that are both familiar and puzzling.
On Earth Day, science fiction reminds us that environmental collapse is not the only possible future. From Frank Herbert’s Dune to modern Solarpunk stories like Winds of Change, SF has always offered both a warning and a hope: that science, ingenuity, and the human spirit can help us protect our one blue world—and perhaps one day carry that wisdom to the stars.
