Jim Baen's Universe

Notes From the Buffer Zone

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Acceptable Nerds

Written by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

I am writing this in June of 2009. It’s been a science fiction month. Quite seriously. I paused the evening news one night and said to my husband, “Every single story in this newscast would have been science fiction in 1970.”

The stories were about the mission to repair the Hubble Space Telescope, one of the last missions to the International Space Station, and the use of DNA mapping to isolate particular cancers. Then our African American President gave a speech in Cairo, aimed at the Muslim world, talking about worldwide unity.

And finally, the month’s biggest story so far: The chaos after the Iranian elections and the importance of social media, not just to the demonstrators themselves, but to the release of news, pictures, and video. In the late 1960s, college age demonstrators in the United States used to chant, “The whole world is watching.”

Now, it really is, and in unexpected ways. Tonight’s news focused on a random citizen in Oklahoma who decided to use his computer as a proxy server so that the Iranian demonstrators could access the internet.

And that entire sentence would only have made sense to science fiction fans in 1970—and then, not even all of those fans would have understood every single word. (But at least they would have tried.)

It really is a science fiction universe. Mid-month, comedian John Hodgman, who plays a PC on the Mac commercials and does commentary for The Daily Show was the master of ceremonies at the Television and Radio Correspondent’s dinner. He gave our new president a test to see if the man was a nerd or a jock. You’ll have to watch to see how that all worked out. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yW7OPByRGDY

But in the course of his fifteen minute speech, Hodgman referenced comic books, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, and Dune. I laughed so hard as I watched this I thought I was going to hurt myself—seriously. I spent the rest of the day chuckling and doing what every media savvy person does in the Brave New World of 2009: I forwarded the link to all (and I mean all) of my friends.

I got a Tweet back later that day from Kevin J. Anderson who, with Brian Herbert, has written Dune novels, using Frank Herbert’s notes (Brian is Frank’s son, for those of you who don’t know). Kev loved the Dune reference, then added (in another Tweet, since the damn things can only be 140 characters long) that David Lynch’s entire Dune movie was “incomprehensible” to the mass audience in 1984, but now Hodgman can make Dune references and most people in mainstream culture at least have an inkling as to what he’s talking about.

Dunno about you, but I think science fiction has become the dominant nomenclature of our time.

Take The Big Bang Theory. The show, which debuted in 2007, is about a beautiful woman who moves across the hall from two nerdy physicists. The guys, and their two geeky friends, have no real social skills as defined by every single high school in America.

Their apartment is filled with sf gadgets, books, art, and movies. One of the pieces of art—as my collector husband pointed out to me (note I did not call him geeky [although I could have])—is a reproduction of the cover of the issue of Analog in which Frank Herbert’s first Dune short story appeared.

I’m sure if I actually freeze-framed my DVR (there’s another sf phrase), I could certainly identify most if not all the pieces of art in that apartment. I certainly recognize all the movies they discuss. I know a lot about the games they play, and I understand all of the sf literature references. I occasionally get lost on the comic book references, but that’s only because I’m not a big comic book fan (although I’m married to one).

The conversations these characters have—would Lois Lane die if Superman caught her as she fell out of a plane to the ground; who would win in a fight—Hulk or Wolverine; the value of wearing a costume if there’s no costume competition—are conversations that my friends (and probably yours) have as well.

In fact, after Dean and I watched the first six episodes on DVD (and that would have been impossible in 1970—if you missed a TV show, you missed it), we went to our weekly lunch with our sf writer friends. Midway through, the conversation devolved into whether Primeval is simply Torchwood with better special effects. I turned to Dean and said, “This is a Big Bang Theory conversation.” And he agreed.

What fascinates me the most about the show isn’t the characters (much as I can relate to them) or the plots (which are often geeked-up sitcom plots) or the writing (which is fantastic).

It’s the assumption that the majority of American network television viewers will understand and like these four geeky guys. Not only like them, but empathize with them and—most importantly—understand what they’re talking about.

As Kevin said about Dune, had anyone even suggested a sitcom like The Big Bang Theory in 1984 (such a science fiction year!), they would have been laughed out of the pitch meeting.

Several things had to change to create the climate for such a show now. Sitcoms like Roseanne broke ground, showing characters who were not picture perfect. Shows like Friends made being single and witty acceptable (and not pathetic, like it often was on the [then] ground-breaking 1970s TV show, The Mary Tyler Moore Show). And shows like Seinfeld proved that quirky, intellectual, and weird characters could gain a following on network television.

But even with all the sitcom antecedents, The Big Bang Theory (and its dramatic corollary, NUMB3RS) would have failed to attract an audience. The producers of The Big Bang Theory make some assumptions that were once heresy in television. They assume:

1) Their audience is intelligent—not a bunch of dopes looking to spend the night parked on the couch.

2) The audience reads—and not just books, but comics, and short stories as well. One episode actually quoted the Three Laws of Robotics, and cited Asimov accurately.

3) The audience accepts the importance of geeks. I think that’s a biggie, because the show doesn’t try to play it cute. Geeks aren’t people who need reforming. They are who they are. They aren’t always lovable (the character Sheldon couldn’t be lovable if he tried [and jeez do I see myself in him way too much]), and they aren’t the butt of every single frat boy joke. They are the show’s main characters—and while we occasionally laugh at them, we more often than not, laugh with them.

I never would have expected that change. I would have thought those of us in the sf community—the smart, socially challenged folks who spend “too much time” (in the words of my mother) with their “nose in a book”—would have always been outsiders.

Now one of us (Hodgman who was a book agent before his comedy career took off) feels comfortable asking the President of the United States if he knew the traditional Vulcan greeting without mentioning that Vulcans were aliens on Star Trek. And just so that you’re not in suspense, on June 19th, the President of the United States flashed the Vulcan salute and uttered the words, “Live Long and Prosper.”

Somehow, I can’t imagine Richard Nixon ever doing that.

I’d love to expand this essay and talk about the implications of social media on world affairs, but as I write this, the situation on the ground in Iran changes hourly. By the time you read this, things will be so different that some of what I’m discussing is old news.

That too is a science fiction trope. Ten years ago, I sold a story to Analog in which reporters updated a website minute by minute, chasing stories. The concept was science fiction then. It’s real life now.

Real life—with an international space station, acceptable nerds, and an assumption of intelligence on the part of the masses.

Who’d’ve thunk?

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