Top positive review
the nature of celebrity, authority, and reality
Reviewed in the United States on February 7, 2021
Whenever I picture the best science fiction convention imaginable in the 1970s, I imagine Robert Heinlein, Isaac Asimov, and Arthur C. Clarke, hunched over pocket protectors and bifocal lenses with matching slide rules, babbling futurism about robots, flying cars, and the colonization of foreign planets, and one of them blurts out "It will all be so wonderful!"
In the corner, Philip K. Dick says quietly, "What if your wrong?"
"Yes!" snaps the ghost of George Orwell. "It will all be so terrible."
Philip K. Dick shrugs the shoulders of his untucked polo shirt. "I don't think that's it."
"Tell us, then." Asimov sneers.
"It might just be mundane." Dick says, "It might just be the same terrible and wonderful things we have now."
No one says anything. When they go home Clarke cries in his sleep. Heinlein can't sleep, because he has thought himself a writer, and now he sees through things. Philip Kindred Dick has predicted the future, and no one will thank him for it, because the future does not exist.