I will start off with a simple observation: things are not great.
I don’t think it’s really necessary to state specific examples; by and large, we see them on a daily basis. The world may be better than it has been in the past, but it still has heapings of misery and evil abounds.
And when faced with such things, us humans have a simple tendency; we imagine how things might be better. We create fiction, with all its myriad utopias and wonders. We invent civilizations where things are good, fill them with people kindhearted, and tell great quests where the good of the world triumphs over it’s evils. And in doing so, we both create hope for a better future, and find ways to make it so.
But in my eyes, there is one critical detail that is all-too-often skipped over. The bad in the world did not come from nothing; the vast majority of humanity’s woes can be blamed on humanity itself. World hunger is a solvable logistical problem, climate change would never have happened if people were willing to believe in it, and I hardly need to mention crime or war. The flaws of the world come from the flaws of the people in it, like a tiny crack growing to split an entire boulder.
This is where fiction often falls flat; they imagine a better world, but not better people. Oh sure, everyone we see might be kindhearted and generous, but evil is not the sum of humanity’s flaws. Far more corrosive are the mental flaws, the biases and cognitive defects and just plain stupidity. Death itself could be delayed, frozen, and pushed back in near entirety if not for the fact that most people can only conceive of it as an inevitability, an immutable wall that cannot be broken, only accepted.
Fiction gives us Utopias, but rarely does it give Utopians.
But ‘rarely’ is not ‘never’.
Perhaps the best example I have ever encountered is a little-known universe known as the Eldraeverse. Authored solely by Alistair Young, the Eldraeverse contains a modest three books and a blog. Written primarily as microfiction, the Eldraeverse depicts the vast and detailed Empire of the Star, a society spanning hundreds of lightyears. As work of hard science fiction, we see a culture that has grown and overcome the obstacles put in place by people and physics both, creating a unique society where dozens of different species live together in what could well be called a utopia by some, or at least a weirdtopia.
And what of the utopians? That would be the titular eldrae, founders of the Empire. Where humans have all-too-often failed, they are driven to succeed. They experienced the pains and sorrow of a turbulent pre-history, and strived to overcome it. As a matter of longing for the worlds that fiction depicts, as a matter of disgust for the flaws of the world, and simply as a matter of pride, they tirelessly worked to create a better world. At first for themselves, and then for any others who would join them.
But what are the eldrae? Why have they succeeded where humanity fails? To put it simply, the eldrae are space elves. They are an offshoot of humanity, taken from a distant Earth by a species of precursor. Modified to suit the precursor’s needs, they were relocated and then abandoned, as precursors are wont to do. This left the eldrae with a myriad of physical changes; blue blood and a pale complexion, biological immortality and slightly more resilience, and yes, pointy ears.
However, the physical changes are a footnote to the mental changes. Compared to humans, they are energetic and dynamic novelty-seekers. Lacking in what we would term ‘childhood’, they instead replace it with life-long wonder and enthusiasm. But at the same time, they’re far from naive; their immortality has led to excellent long-term planning, they’re nearly bereft of choice fatigue, and they have a will of iron.
Far from a perfect combination, in their early history the combination of intense emotion and determination led to no small amount of conflict. But from this conflict grew a unique ethos; an incredible respect for free will and self-determination, with an intense focus on obligation and individual responsibility. The eldrae are honest to an extreme, take their promises and agreements seriously enough to impress a Fae, and temper and direct their emotions with willpower and rationality that would fit in on Vulcan. They have an unending desire for perfection and awesomeness, both in themselves and what they create. And they take pride in it all; for what is pride but honesty about one’s own excellence?
From this has grown a society that could perhaps be best described as libertarian; the right to self-determination expands into the right of owning that which you’ve earned, the respect for free will expands into the right to take on obligations, and much more. The end result is something like if you took a classical Fae, removed the excessive malice, and nudged them into creating a prosperous society.
And it works. The eldrae, in many senses, are not human. They don’t think quite like humans, and they don’t act like humans. They are, in the most literal sense, alien, with all the wildly different modes of thought that implies. And the eldraeverse takes this unique foundation, and expands it into what they would unhesitatingly call a utopia, and what we might as well.
In the modern era, the Empire of the Star is a vast civilization. Within it, countless alien cultures come together under a shared ethos. They live in cities of gleaming crystal and clean stone, travel in proud ships crossing the skies on plumes of fire. And everywhere they go, there are beautiful worlds to be found. And all these worlds are free. Free of pain, free of hunger and want. Entire worlds, free of death.
The Eldraeverse gives us a beautiful look into this carefully crafted universe. Far more than a mere glimpse, or a glossed-over society of hats. We see the dozens of species, ranging from vaguely humanoid to floating crystals and sophont solar turbulence. We see theramins played by octopuses and liquid-ammonia mixed drinks. We see clothes that are poured, houses that grow, and networks that sing. And, as a work of hard science fiction, nothing is left out; cornucopia machines are as common as coffee makers, micromachines are hard at work making sure your cape billows dramatically without a breeze, and the resident superintelligence rents their moon brains and plays matchmaker.
If you’re a fan of science fiction, and you’re tired of Grimdark, might I suggest some Hopebright?