#clifi

Solarpunk as a genre exists in a state of a permanent summer. Both as a genre, and an aesthetic. Solarpunk pictures usually show us worlds that have everything in so many shades of green. Green bushes. Green trees. Green everything. Fields in Solarpunk are always filled with ripe corn and wheat. And trees in Solarpunk are full of ripe fruit.

But if we look into Solarpunk worldbuilding there is also the fact that of course at some point at many places of the world it will become autumn, and winter.

I mean, I am feeling it right now, sitting here in my bed with three blankets and shivering, as the summer has very suddenly ended.

Sure, Solarpunk originated from Brazil. And while I do not know a whole lot about Brazillian climate, I do understand that it is close enough to the equator to be fairly warm yearround.

But I honestly would love to see more stories and artworks set in Solarpunk worlds during the autumn and winter. Especially because it is a very interesting topic when it comes to both the renewable energies and the food systems of Solarpunk worlds.

Now, admittedly, the renewable energy is less interesting to me, but we still should talk about it. In winter and autumn a lot of the renewable energy sources are a bit less viable. The sun has less energy and the further north (or south) you go, the less sun you get during the winter. Wind turbines also often struggle because there is in fact too much wind - and some older turbines do not do too well during harsh winter conditions. Water usually has less of a problem, unless the water energy is created in shallow conditions where the water freezes. But of course, there is nuclear energy to take care of most issues, even if everything else fails - even though some people still do not want to hear about it.

The food aspect is a lot more interesting though, especially from a modern point of view.

Because we people today are very used to eating the same stuff year around. Like potatoes, carrots, bellpeppers, tomatoes, cabbage, oranges, apples, pears, and bananas are usually available in the supermarket no matter when you go there. But of course we also know that those only are there because of the rather destructive ways we use to cultivate food and bring it to us. These things usually are grown somewhere closer to the equator and then are brought to Europe/North America via plane, emitting a lot more CO2.

Of course, this is a fairly new development. For the most of human history, nobody - or only the very richest people - had access to imported food like that. So instead they would only eat was either was available in their own country and their own fields right now, or that they could conserve in some way or form.

And frankly... I think that is something I would like to see some more off in Solarpunk media. In people not needing everything to be available all the time. And people also working to conserve food in one way or another to make it last longer.

Also I do want to bring it up again: There were a lot of well known "winter vegetables" in Europe during most of our history there. Stuff that would get ripe in late autumn and would keep rather well. And a lot of those vegetables have been forgotten.

So... Yeah, I really would see that issue discussed a bit more.

Artists are so so important. I've had people tell me they feel bad because, as an artist, they don't think they can contribute anything worthwhile to climate change. They're wrong.

For decades we dreamed dystopia, and in March of 2020, when COVID crashed upon U.S. shores, it seemed like we had dreamed it so well we wished it into being. While wealthy reactionaries are building actual bunkers and prepping for environmental collapse, fantasizing about which shade of hopelessness our apocalypse will take is a luxury we can no longer afford. By accepting as inevitable humanity’s demise by its own hand, post-apocalyptic fiction places no responsibility on the living to course correct.

These days, climate change isn’t over the horizon, it’s here. The virus that shuts down the globe? We had that, too. Dystopian fiction? That’s so 2012. It’s time we collectively dream of something else. A better world is possible, but if artists and writers are to contribute to that better world, we’re going to need to balance our splendid hellscapes with gardens of earthly delight. We need to envision futures that are livable and happy, and we need to imagine how we get there from here. What’s more, we need to make those worlds as thrilling and engaging as any post-apocalyptic zombie-strewn nightmare.

Fortunately, we don’t need to invent a new literary genre to show us the way to a better tomorrow. Just as there is a left-wing climate movement demanding humanity break from fossil fuels to create a bright future for life on Earth, so is there a parallel climate fiction that allows us to imagine that better world. In steps solarpunk, left-wing literature’s answer to the dystopian novel. Solarpunk looks towards a post-capitalist future of renewable energy. It rejects climate “doomerism” and shows what our collective future could look like if we heal our relationship with the natural world.

Far from Star Trek’s “full luxury space communism,” where humans race across galaxies via endless sources of energy, the technology in solarpunk is imminently achievable. In the anthology Future Primitive: The New Ecotopias, science fiction writer and democratic socialist Kim Stanley Robinson describes this genre as rejecting “the inevitability of the machine future.” Instead it asks, “What is the healthiest way to live? What is the most beautiful?” Rather than Elon Musk’s tent cities on Mars, these fictional worlds “cobble together aspects of the postmodern and the paleolithic, asserting that we might for very good reasons choose to live in ways that resemble in part the ways of our ancestors.” 

Foxhunt!!

Debbie Urbanski's debut novel After World is an unflinching and relentlessly bleak tale of humanity's mass extinction, shot through with pathos and veined with seams of tragic tenderness and care:

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/After-World/Debbie-Urbanski/9781668023457

I first encountered Urbanski in "An Incomplete Timeline of What We Tried," an experimental short story on Motherboard's brilliant Terraform science fiction portal:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/xwvgeq/an-incomplete-timeline-of-what-we-tried

"Incomplete Timeline" is a list of climate remediation steps "working back from human extinction," like "increased military fortification of national, provincial, and state borders," "the founding of several utopias," and "redefine the word wilderness."

These items begin with a climax, or perhaps an anticlimax: "The coordinated release of various strains of a human sterilization virus."

This is the jumping off point for After World, which expands this final item to the action of a wrenching tale whose backstory is the list's remainder. Sen Anon – the story's semi-protagonist – is 18 years old when the world learns that every person alive has been sterilized and so the human race is living out its last years.

The news triggers a manic insistence that this is a good thing – long overdue, in fact – and the perfect opportunity to scan every person alive for eventual reincarnation as virtual humans in an Edenic cloud metaverse called Gaia. That way, people can continue to live their lives without the haunting knowledge that everything they do makes the planet worse for every other living thing, and each other. Here, finally, is the resolution to the paradox of humanity: our desire to do good, and our inevitable failure on that scor8e.

And so the Earth is converted to a place of mass suicides, as people gurn and mug while boarding airplanes filled with explosives so they can go out in a literal blaze of glory. The food will run out soon, and the government makes sure everyone has a suicide pill for the day when the hunger grows too intense. Not everyone is lucky enough to get on one of the suicide flights, and, being eager to see themselves off before they harm the planet further, just hang themselves in the garage or jump off a roof. They are counted as heroes, but also nuisances, because disposing of the bodies is a lot of work.