THE WRITER’S LIFE
Sometimes I look in the mirror and I hate myself. Not always the individual looking back (although my sober life is forever burdened by guilt for all I did when I was drunk), but what I represent: My country, my planet and my species. When there are parts of each which you despise, and all bear their own human scars, it’s easy to hate yourself (even more) as a part of them.
My country (the UK) is a fractured nation, a shell of its former self, damaged perhaps beyond repair by the greatest wilful act of self-harm I’ve ever witnessed by a government. Brexit has divided us within, while the nation has been set adrift by its ignorant, arrogant, self-serving leaders. With the state of the world at large, now is when we need partners, allies and friends. But the UK is alone on this small planet.
Ours is a world of limited, dwindling natural resources, and it’s of finite size. I often wonder what the agendas or ultimate aims of capitalists and governments are, and where catalysts and saturation points might be reached, when there’s only so much to go around, and only so many people (there are conspiracy theories, of course). And then of course, there are those we live with: The animals.
I consider myself a member of one race, the human race, but then I look at what our species does to others and its own kind, and I’m ashamed. And yet, in all the searching, the only thing which makes the loneliness bearable, is each other (to borrow from Carl Sagan). And we’re all connected, by quantum entanglement. Still though, I often feel disconnected, like my country from its European family.
As a science fiction writer, I wonder who else might be out there, and what we ourselves might be capable of. This in itself can make for the stuff of dreams or nightmares. We can fear the unknown, or we can speculate.
The current pace and progress of human science and technology mean we could very well be near a pivotal point, where we solve problems or destroy ourselves. We’re employing AI minds to answer our biggest questions, and one of these man-made brains could easily conclude that humans are the problem. The end of humanity, or a new beginning, could be a near-future scenario.
I imagine near-future humans (if there’s to be such a thing) as the beginning of a next stage of accelerated evolution, as we integrate with machines and technology, eventually becoming organic-technological hybrids. I believe there are other species in the universe like this, perhaps so advanced that they’ve harnessed the natural energy of parent stars using Dyson spheres. Maybe they’ve transcended conflict, evolving to realise that it’s inefficient. I can live in hope, and I can write.
What more can I do? What can we all do? We need to stop fighting and ignoring. We need to talk. So I’m giving Cyrus Song away for free on World Book Day (Thursday).
Despite potentially devaluing myself and the nine months I put into it, Cyrus Song is a book for everyone. I do need the money, but more than that, I want people to see my message, find the answers and tell others, in a review, or by talking. There’s a donation button on this blog (Buy me a coffee) should anyone be sufficiently moved by the free book, normally the price of a decent coffee.
Writing is the only way I have of talking to other people. Cyrus Song is everything I want to say to my own kind. For now, I look in the mirror, and a lonely planet stares back.