So, the second novel in the Laundry Files, The Jennifer Morgue, was first published on November 1st, 2006. And while it was superficially a pastiche of the Bond movie canon (as it existed at that time--I was writing before the Daniel Craig era, ushered in with Casino Royale--it was also interrogating the dramatic conventions of the genre and also the implications of rule by Bond Villains.

At about the time I was writing it, a friend of mine (initially a tech journalist, later an industry pundit) described his experience of interviewing Elon Musk, who was allegedly leaning hard into the archetype. "I must be a Bond villain!" He joked, "I have an electric car and a tropical island where boiler-suited minions launch rockets!" And then he laughed it off. (In those days, we thought it was a simile: these days it's more clearly understood as a metaphor, if not the absolute raw truth.)

Anyway, I wrote a little afterword for The Jennifer Morgue discussing the significance of the Bond Villain as an archetype for our times and it does still appear to have something relevant to say, 20 years later; and I figure the current publisher has forgotten about it, so I'm going to shamelessly pirate my own work and reprint the entire epilogue from The Jennifer Morgue right here on my blog (the horror!).

Note that the Great Financial Crisis that kicked off the current era really started in late 2007, and our current era of oligarchic misrule, only got underway in the mid-20-teens, with the evitable rise to power of a deeply unpleasant TV reality star whose main claim to fame was playing a stupid man's idea of a successful business mogul.

(At least I didn't predict that.)

Anyway, the text is below the fold--it's quite long--and I ask this: what would you add, today?

The Golden Age of Spying

1. The Mary-Sue of MI6

"My name is Bond. James Bond."

These six words, heard by hundreds of millions of people, are almost invariably spoken during the first five minutes of each movie in one of the biggest media success stories of the 20th century. Unless you've lived under a rock for the past forty years, you hear them and you know at once that you're about to be plunged into a two hour long adrenaline saturated extravaganza of snobbish fashionable excess, violence, sex, car chases, more violence, and Blowing Shit Up -- followed by a post-coital cigarette and a light-hearted quip as the credits roll.

It wasn't always so. When "Casino Royale" was first published in 1953, it got a print run of 4750 hardcover copies and no advertising budget to speak of; while the initial reviews were favorable, comparing Ian Fleming to Le Queux and Oppenheim (the kings of the pre-war British spy thriller genre), it took a long time for his most famous creation to set the world on fire. Despite his rapidly rising print runs ("Casino Royale" eventually sold over a million paperbacks in the UK alone), and despite his increasing prominence among the post-war thriller writers, a decade elapsed before any of Fleming's novels were filmed; indeed, their author barely lived to see the commercial release of "Dr No" and the runaway success of the icon he created. (Nor were the films seen as a runaway success before they were made -- "Dr No" was notoriously made on a tight budget, even though it went on to gross nearly $60M around the world.)

Literary immortality -- or indeed, mere post-mortem survival -- is dauntingly hard for a novelist to achieve. The limbo of post-mortem obscurity awaits 95% of all novelists -- almost all novels go out of print for good within five years of the death of their author. But in addition to being a million-selling best-seller, Fleming was a ferociously well-connected newspaper executive with a strong sense of the value of his ideas, and he pursued television and film adaptation remorselessly. Cinematic success arrived just in time for his creation, and the synergy between best-selling books and massive movie hype has sufficed to keep them in print ever since.

James Bond is a creature of fantasy, perhaps best described using a literary term looted from that most curious and least respected of fields, fan fiction: the Mary-Sue. A Mary-Sue character is a placeholder in a script, a hollow cardboard cut-out into whose outline the author can squeeze their own dreams and fantasies. In the case of Bond, it's cruelly easy to make a case that the famous spy was his author's Mary-Sue: for Fleming had a curious and ambiguous relationship with spying.

A dilettante and dabbler for his first three decades, unsuccessful as a stockbroker, foreign correspondent, and banker, Fleming fortuitously landed his dream job on the eve of the Second World War: Secretary to the Director of Naval Intelligence in the Admiralty. The war was good for Ian Fleming, broadening and deepening him and giving him a job that captured his imagination and drew out his not inconsiderable talents. But Fleming was the man who knew too much: privy to too many secrets, he was wrapped in tissue paper and prevented from pursuing his desire to go into the field. He ended the war with a distinguished record -- and absolutely no combat experience (if one excludes being bombed by the Luftwaffe or watching the Dieppe raid from a destroyer, safely far off the Normandy coastline). Fleming grew up in the shade of a father who died heroically on the western front in 1917, and in adult life he wrote in the shadow of an elder brother whose reputation as a novelist surpassed his own. It's easy to imagine these unkind familial comparisons provoking the imaginative but flighty playboy who almost found himself during the war, goading him to imagine himself in the shoes of a hero who was not merely larger than life, but larger in every way than his own life.

And, as it turns out, James Bond was larger than Ian Fleming. Not only do few novels survive their author's demise, even fewer acquire sequels written by other hands; yet several other authors (including Kingsley Amis and John Gardner) have toiled in Fleming's vinyard. Few fictional characters acquire biographies written by third parties -- but Bond has not only acquired an autobiography (courtesy of biographer John Pearson) but spawned a small cultural industry, including a study of his semiotics by Umberto Eco. Now, that has got to be a sign of something ...

As with every true pearl, there was a sand-grain of truth at the heart of Bond. Fleming wrote thrillers informed by his actual experience. Years spent working out of the hothouse environment of Room 39 of the Admiralty building -- headquarters of the Naval Intelligence Division of the Royal Navy -- gave him a ringside seat on the operations of a major espionage organization. On various trips to Washington DC he worked with diplomats and officers of the OSS (predecessor organization to the CIA). As a foreign news manager at The Sunday Times after the war, there is some evidence that Fleming made his agency's facilities available to officers of MI6. His first Bond novels were submitted to that agency for security clearance before they were published. Bond himself may have been larger than life, but the strictures imposed by the organization he worked for were drawn from reality, albeit the reality of an intelligence agency of the early 1940s.

The world of secret intelligence gathering during the second world war was, however, very different from life in the intelligence community today. It was already changing by the late 1950s, as the bleeping football-shaped Sputniks zipped by overhead and intelligence directors began dreaming of spy satellites. By 2004, when MI5 (the counter-intelligence agency) openly placed recruiting advertisements in the press, we can be sure that Bond would be best advised to seek employment elsewhere. Spies are supposed to be short -- under 180 centimeters for men -- and nondescript. As a branch of the civil service, MI5's headquarters are presumably non-smoking, and drinking on the job is frowned upon. As intelligence agencies, MI5 and MI6 staff aren't in the business of ruthlessly wiping out enemies of the state: any decision to use lethal force lies with the Foreign Secretary, the COBRA committee, and other elements of the British government's security oversight bureaucracy. An MI6 agent driving a 1933 Bentley racer with a supercharged engine, frequenting the high-stakes table at a casino as James Bond so memorably did in his first print appearance, is an almost perfect inversion of the real picture.

Nevertheless, the archetype has legs. James Bond continued to grow and evolve, even after his creator put away his cigarette holder for the last time. To some extent, this was the product of storytelling expediency. The film adaptations started in the middle of a continuing story arc -- for Fleming wrote his novels with a modicum of continuity -- and while "Dr No" was the first to make it to celluloid, the novel was in fact a sequel to "From Russia With Love" (which was filmed second). Thus, various liberties were taken with the plot of the canonical novels, right from the start. You can re-read the novels at length without finding anything of the banter between Bond and M's secretary Moneypenny that is a recurrent theme of the films, for example, and that's before we get into the bizarre deviations of the mid-period Roger Moore movies (notably "The Spy Who Loved Me" and "Moonraker").

The literary James Bond is a creature of pre-war London clubland: upper-crust, snobbish, manipulative and cruel in his relationships with women, with a thinly-veiled sadomasochistic streak and a coldly ruthless attitude to his opponents which verges on the psychopathic. Over the years, his cinematic alter ego has acquired the stamina of Superman, learned to defy the laws of physics, ventured into space -- both outer and inner -- and deflowered more maids than Don Juan. He's also mutated to fit the prejudices and neuroses of the day, dabbling with (gasp!) monogamy, and hanging out with those heroic Afghan mujahideen in the late-eighties AIDS-and-Soviets-era "The Living Daylights". He's worked under a post-feminist ball-breaking 'M' in "Goldeneye", and even confronted a female arch-villain in "The World is Not Enough" (an innovation that would surely have Fleming, who formed his views on appropriate behavior for the fairer sex in the 1920s, rolling in his grave). But other aspects of the Bond archetype remain timeless. Fleming was fascinated by fast cars, exotic locations, and intricate gadgetry, and all of these traits of the original novels have been amplified and extrapolated in the age of modern special effects.

Just how does James Bond -- a "sexist, misogynist dinosaur, a relic of the Cold War", to use the words the script-writers on "GoldenEye" so tellingly put into M's mouth -- survive in the popular imagination more than fifty years after his literary birth? What does it mean when Mary-Sue stalks the landscape of the imagination, blasting holes in the plot with a Walther PPK (or the P99 he upgraded to in "Tomorrow Never Dies")? If we're going to understand this, perhaps we ought to start by looking at Bond's dark shadow, the Villain.

2. In search of Mabuse

Bond is, if you judge him by his work, a nasty fellow and not one you'd choose to lend your car to: to make this rough diamond glitter it is necessary to display him against a velvet backdrop of darkest villainy. If you strip the Bond archetype of the bacchanalia, glamorous locations, and fashion snobbery, you end up with an unappetizingly shallow, cold-blooded executioner -- the likes of Adam Hall's Quiller or James Mitchell's Callan, only without the breezy cynicism, or indeed any redeeming features at all. The role of adversary is thus a critical one in sustaining the appeal of the protagonist. Fleming set out to depict a hard-edged contemporary world where the usual black-and-white picture of the pre-war thriller had blurred and taken on some of the murky grey-on-grey ambiguity of the cold war era; Bond was the knight in shining armor, fighting for virtue and the free world against the dragon -- be they Mr. Big, Dr. No, Auric Goldfinger, or the looming shadow of Bond's greatest enemy of all, Ernst Stavro Blofeld, Number One of SPECTRE, the Special Executive for Counter-intelligence, Terrorism, Revenge and Extortion.

It is interesting to note that Blofeld assumed his primacy as Bond's #1 enemy only in the movie canon; Fleming originally invented him while working on the screenplay and novel of "Thunderball", and used him subsequently in "On Her Majesty's Secret Service" and "You Only Live Twice". (Prior to these later books, Bond typically tussled with less corporate enemies -- Soviet stooges, unregenerate Nazis, and psychotic gangsters.) Blofeld was born out of mere corporate expediency. Rather than demonize the Soviets and reduce their potential audience, the producers of the film of "From Russia With Love" appropriated SPECTRE as the adversarial organization. With the success of "Thunderball", the third of the films, Blofeld moved front and center and acquired a life of his own that far exceeded his prominence in the novels. Arguably, Fleming's death in 1964 freed up the movie series to diverge from their original author's plans; and so Blofeld may be seen as a demon of necessity, conjured up from the vasty depths in order to provide Bond with a worthy adversary.

'Twas not always so. Back at the turn of the 20th century, around the time that the British spy thriller was gradually cohering out of the mists of the penny dreadful and the literature of suspense (via the works of John Buchan and Erskine Childers -- not to mention the tangential contributions of Arthur Conan Doyle, by way of Sherlock Holmes) there was no great dualistic vision of the great champion confronting the villainous heart of evil. There was no great champion: we were on our own against the masters of night and mist, the great and terrible super-criminals. Professor Moriarty, Holmes' nemesis -- the Napoleon of Crime -- was but one of these: Fantômas, the 1911 creation of Pierre Souvestre and Marcel Allain, is another. The emperor of crime, Fantômas was a master of disguise and an agent of chaos (not to mention standing astride Paris in black mask, top hat and tails, in the posters for the 1913 movie of the same name: an icon of decadent wealth and criminal chaos). Nor was he alone. Guy Boothby's 1890's super-villain Dr Nikola fits the bill too, right down to the fluffy lap-cat and the fiendish plans. But perhaps the root of Bond's nemesis can be found in his full-fledged form somewhat later, and somewhat further to the east -- in the guise of Dr. Mabuse.

Dr. Mabuse is an archetype and a runaway media success in his own right, famous from five novels and twelve movies. The Doctor was created in 1922 by author Norbert Jacques, and was developed into one of the most chilling creations of the silent era by no less a director than Fritz Lang. Mabuse is a name, but one that nobody in their right mind speaks aloud. He's a master of disguise, naturally: and a rich, well-connected socialite and gambler. (Some social context: gambling at the high stakes table is no so much an innocuous recreation as an obscenity, in a decade of hyper-inflation and starvation, with crippled war veterans dying of cold on the street corners, as was the case in Weimar Germany). Mabuse has his fingers in every pie, by way of a syndicate so shadowy and criminal that nobody knows its extent; he's a spider, but the web he weaves is so broad that it looks like the whole of reality to the flies trapped in it. He is (in some of the stories) a psychiatrist, skilled in manipulation, and those who hunt him are doomed to become his victims. If Mabuse has a weakness it is that his schemes are over-elaborate and tend to implode messily, usually when his most senior minions rebel, hopelessly late; nevertheless, he is a master of the escape plan, and with his ability to brainwash minions into playing his role he's a remarkably hard phantom to slay.

It is all too easy to make fun of the likes of Fantômas and Dr. Nikola, and even their modern-day cognates such as Dr. Mabuse and Ernst Stavro Blofeld; for do they not represent such an obsessively concentrated pinnacle of entrepreneurial criminality that, if they really existed, they would instantly be hunted down and arrested by INTERPOL?

Careful consideration will lead one to reconsider this hasty judgment. Criminology, the study of crime and its causes, has a fundamental weak spot: it studies that proportion of the criminal population who are stupid or unlucky enough to get caught. The perfect criminal, should he or she exist, would be the one who is never apprehended -- indeed, the one whose crimes may be huge but unnoticed, or indeed miscategorized as not crimes at all because they are so powerful they sway the law in their favor, or so clever they discover an immoral opportunity for criminal enterprise before the legislators notice it. Such forms of criminality may be indistinguishable, at a distance, from lawful business; the criminal a paragon of upper-class virtue, a face-man for Forbes.

When the real Napoleons of Crime walk among us today, they do so in the outwardly respectable guise of executives in business suits and thousand-dollar haircuts. The executives of Worldcom and Enron were denizens of a corporate culture so rapacious that any activity, however dubious, could be justified in the name of enhancing the bottom line. They have rightfully been charged, tried, and in some cases jailed for fraud, on a scale that would have been the envy of Mabuse, Blofeld, or their modern successor, Dr. Evil. When you need extra digits on your pocket calculator to compute the sums you are stealing, you're in the big league. Again, when you're able to evade prosecution by the simple expedient of appointing the state prosecutor and the judges -- because you're the President of a country (and not just any country, but a member of the rich and powerful G8) -- you're certainly not amenable to diagnosis and detection in the same sense as your run-of-the-mill shoplifter or petty delinquent. I'm naming no names (they have intelligence services! Cruise missiles!) but this isn't a hypothetical scenario.

3. Interview with the Entrepreneur

In an attempt to clarify the mythology surrounding James Bond, I tracked his old rival down to his headquarters in the Ministry of Inward Investment in the breakaway Republic of Transdniestria. Somewhat suspicious at first, Mr. Blofeld relaxed as soon as he realized I was not pursuing him on behalf of the FSB, CIA, or IMF, and kindly agreed to be interviewed for this book. Now aged 72, Blofeld is a cheerful veteran of numerous high-tech start-ups, and not a few multinationals where, as a specialist in international risk management and arbitrage, he applied his unique skills to business expansion. Today he is semi-retired but has agreed to work in an voluntary capacity as director of the State investment agency.

"It took me a long time to understand the agenda that the British government was pursuing through the covert activities of MI6," he told me over a glass of sweet tea. "Call me naive, but I really believed -- at least at first -- that they were honest capitalists, the scoundrels."

Over the course of an hour, Ernst explained to me how he first became aware that the UK was attempting to sabotage his business interests. "It was back in 1960 or thereabouts that they first tried to destroy one of my subsidiaries. Until then I hadn't really had anything to do with them, but I believe one of my rivals in the phosphate mining business put it about that my man on site was some sort of spy, and they sent this Bond fellow -- not just to arrest him or charge him with some trumped-up nonsense, but to kill him." His lips paled with indignation at he contemplated the iniquity of the situation: that agents of the British government might go after an honest businessman for no better reason than an unsubstantiated allegation that he was spying on American missile tests. "I warned Julius to be careful and advised him to put a good lawyer on retainer, but what good are lawyers when the people you're up against send hired killers? Julius brought in security contractors, but this Bond fellow still murdered him in the end. And the British government denies everything, to this day!"

Ernst obviously believes in his own moral rectitude, but I had to ask the obvious questions, just for the record.

"Yes, I was chief executive of SPECTRE for twelve years. But you know, SPECTRE was entirely honest about its activities! We had nothing to hide because what we were doing was actually legal. We've been mercilessly slandered by those rogues from MI6 and their friends in the newspapers, but the fact is, we're no more guilty of criminal activity than any other multinational today: we simply had the misfortune to be foreign and entrepreneurial at a point in time when Whitehall was in the grasp of the communist conspirators Wilson and Callaghan and their running-dog so-called 'conservative' fellow Heath. And we were pilloried because what we were doing was in direct competition with the inefficient state-run enterprises that my good friend Lady Thatcher recognized as mosquitoes battening on the life-blood of capitalism. That cad Fleming put it about that SPECTRE stands for 'Special Executive for Counterintelligence, Terrorism, Revenge and Extortion' -- absolute tosh and nonsense! Would a group of criminals really call themselves something that blatant? I'll remind you that SPECTRE is actually a French acronym, as befits a non-profit charity incorporated in Paris. The name stands for 'Société Professionelle et Ethique du Capital Technologique Réinvestissement par les Experts.' Venture capitalists specializing in disruptive new technologies, in other words -- commercial space travel, nuclear power, antibiotics. Not some kind of half-baked terrorist organization! But you can imagine the threat we posed to the inefficient state monopolies like the British Aircraft Corporation, the coal mining industry, and Imperial Chemical Industries."

Blofeld paused to sip his tea thoughtfully.

"We were ahead of our time in many ways. We pioneered business methods that later became mainstream -- Sir James Goldsmith, Ronald Perelman, James Icahn, they all watched us and learned -- but by then, the commies were out of power in the west thanks to our friends in the establishment, so they had an easier time of it. No need to hire lots of expensive security and build concrete bunkers on desert islands! And yes, that made us look bad, don't think I'm unaware of it -- but you know, you want bunkers and isolated jungle rocket launch bases? All you have to do is look at Arianespace! It's fine when the government bureaucracies do it, but if an honest businessman tries to build a space launch site and hires security to keep the press and saboteurs from foreign governments out, it's suddenly a threat to world security!"

He paused for a while. "They put the worst complexion on everything we did. The plastic surgery? Well, we had the clinic, why not let our staff use it, so the surgeons could stay in practice between paying customers? It was a perk, nothing more. We did -- I admit it -- acquire a few companies trading in exotic weapons, non-lethal technologies mostly. And that business with Emilio and the yacht, I admit that looked bad. But did you know, it originally belonged to Adnan Khashoggi or Fahd ibn Saud or someone? Emilio was acting entirely on his own initiative -- a loose cannon -- and as soon as I heard about the affair I terminated his employment."

I asked Ernst to tell me about Bond.

"Listen, this Bond chap, I want you to understand this: however he's painted in the mass media, the reality is that he's a communist stooge, an assassin. Look at the evidence. He works for the state -- a socialist state at that. He went to university and worked with those traitors Philby and Burgess, that MacLean fellow -- communist spies to a man. He didn't resign his commission when the British government went socialist, like a decent fellow: instead he took assignments to go after entrepreneurs who were a threat to the interests of this socialist government, and he rubbed them out like a Mafia button man. There was no due process of law there, no respect for property rights, no courts, no lawyers -- just a 'License to Kill' enemies of the state, loosely defined, who mostly happened to be businessmen working on start-up projects that coincidentally threatened state monopolies. He's a damned commissar. Do you know why Moscow hated him? It's because he'd got them beat at their own racket."

Blofeld was clearly depressed by this recollection, so I tried to change the subject by asking him about his personal management philosophy."

"Well, you know, I tend to use whatever works in day to day situations. I'm a pragmatist, really. But I've got a soft spot for modern philosophers, Leo Strauss and Ayn Rand: the rights of the individual. And I've always wanted to remake the world as a better place, which is probably why the establishment dislike me: I'm a threat to vested interests. Well, they're all descended from men who were threats to vested interests too, back in the day: only I threaten them with new technologies, while their ancestors mostly did their threatening with a bloody sword and the gallows. I don't believe in initiating force." He laughs self-deprecatingly. "I suppose you could call me naive."

4. Trade Goods

When I played back my tape of our discussion, it took me some time to notice that Ernst had carefully steered the conversation away from certain key points I had intended to quiz him about.

One of the most disturbing aspects of the Bond milieu is the prevalence of technologies that are strangely out of place. Belt-buckle grappling hooks with wire spools that can support a man's weight? Laser rifles? These aren't simple extrapolations of existing technology -- they go far beyond anything that's achievable with today's engineering tools or materials science. But forget Bond's toys, the products of Q division. From Blofeld's solar-powered orbital laser in "Diamonds are Forever" to Carver's stealthed cruiser in "Tomorrow Never Dies", we are surrounded by signs that the adversary has got tricks up his sleeve that far outweigh anything Bond's backers can provide. These menacing intrusions of alien super-science -- where can they possibly have got them from?

The answer can be discerned with little difficulty if one cares to scrutinize the writings of the sage of Providence, Howard Phillips Lovecraft. This scholar -- whose path, regrettably, never crossed that of the young Ian Fleming -- asserted that our tenancy of this planet is but a recent aberration. Earth has in the past been home for a number of alien species of vast antiquity and incomprehensibly advanced knowledge, and indeed some of them may still linger on alongside us -- on the high Antarctic plateau, in the frigid oceanic depths, even in strange half-breed colonies off the New England coastline.

If this strikes you as nonsensical, first contemplate your nearest city: how recognizable would it be in a hundred years' time if our entire species silently vanished away tomorrow? How recognizable would it be in a thousand years? Would any relics still bear witness to the once-proud towers of New York or Tokyo, a million years hence? Our future -- and the future of any once-proud races that bestrode our planet -- is that of an oily stain in the shale deposits of deep history. Earth's biosphere and the active tectonic system it dances on cleans house remorselessly, erasing any structure that is not alive or maintained by the living.

Consider also the extent to which we really occupy the planet we live on. We think of ourselves as the dominant species on Earth -- but 75% of the Earth's entire biomass consists of bacteria and algae that we can't even see with the naked eye. (Bacteria from whose ranks fearsome pathogens periodically emerge, burning like wildfire through our ranks.) Nor do we, in any real sense of the word, occupy the oceans. Certainly our trawlers hunt the bounty of the upper waters. But submarines (of which there are only a few hundred on the entire planet) fumble like blind men through the uppermost half kilometer of a world-ocean that averages three kilometers in depth, unable to dive beneath their pressure limits to explore the abyssal plains that cover nearly two thirds of the planetary surface. Finally, the surface (both the sub-oceanic abyss and the thin skin of dry land we cling tenuously to) is but a thousandth of the depth of the planet itself; we can't even drill through the crust, much less contemplate with any certainty the nature of events unfolding within the hot, dense mantle beneath.

We could be sharing the planet with numerous powerful alien civilizations, denizens of the high energy condensed-matter realm beneath our feet, and we'd never know it -- unless they chose to send emissaries into our biosphere, sprinkling death rays and other trade goods like glass beads before the aboriginal inhabitants, extracting a ghastly price in return for their largesse ...

5. A Colder War?

James Bond was a creature of the Cold War: a strange period of shadow-boxing that stretched from late 1945 to the winter of 1991, forty-six years of paranoia, fear, and the creepy sensation that our lives were in thrall to forces beyond our comprehension. It's almost impossible to explain the Cold War to anyone who was born after 1980; the sense of looming doom, the long shadows cast by the two eyeball-to-eyeball superpowers, each possessing vast powers of destruction, ready and able to bring about destruction on a planetary scale in pursuit of their recondite ideologies. It was, to use the appropriate adjective, a truly Lovecraftian age, dominated by the cold reality that our lives could be interrupted by torment and death at virtually any time; normal existence was conducted in a soap-bubble universe sustained only by our determination to shut out awareness of the true horrors lurking in the darkness outside it, an abyss presided over by chilly alien warriors devoted to death-cult ideologies and dreams of Mutually Assured Destruction. Decades of distance has bought us some relief, thickening the wall of the bubble -- memories misting over with the comforting illusion that the Cold War wasn't really as bad as it seemed at the time -- but who do we think we're kidding? The Cold War wasn't about us. It was about the Spies, and the Secret Masters, and the Hidden Knowledge.

It's no coincidence that the Cold War was the golden age of spying -- the peak of the second-oldest profession, the diggers in the dark, the seekers after unclean knowledge and secret wisdom. Prior to 1939, spying of the international kind rather than the sordid domestic variety (let us pass swiftly over the sordid Stasi archives of sealed glass jars full of worn underwear, kept as scent cues for the police dogs) was a small scale, largely amateurish concern. With the outbreak of the second world war it mushroomed. Faced with employment vacancies, the first response of a growing organization is to recruit close to home. Just like any 1990s dot-com startup, growing as the founders haul in all their friends and anyone they know who has the right skill set, the 1940s espionage agencies were a boom town into which a well-connected clubbable London playboy would inevitably be sucked -- and, moreover, one where he might try his hand and succeed, to everyone's surprise. (In the 1990s he'd end up in marketing, with stock options up to here. Sic transit gloria techie.)

When the Second World War gave way to the doomwatch days and Strangelove nights of the Cold War, it entered a period in which the same clubbable fellow might find himself working in a mature organization, vastly larger and more professional than the half-assed amateurism of the early days. The CIA was born in the shadow of the wartime OSS, and grew into the emblematic Company (traders in secrets, overthrowers of governments), locked in titanic struggle with that other superpowered rival, the KGB (and their less well known fellows in the GRU).

The age of the traditional sneak-spies with their Minox cameras gave way to the era of the bugging device. With the 1960s came a new emphasis on supplementing human intelligence (HUMINT) with intelligence from electronic sources (ELINT). New agencies -- the NSA in the United States, GCHQ in the UK -- expanded as the field of "spyless spying" went mainstream, aided by the explosion in computing power made possible by integrated circuits and, later, the microprocessor. As telephony, television, telex, and other technologies began to come online a torrent of data poured through the wires, a deluge that threatened to drown the agencies in useless noise. Or was it the whispering on the deep-ocean cables? Maybe the chatter served to conceal and disguise the quiet whispering of the hidden oracles, dribbling out strange new concepts that warped the vulnerable primate minds to serve their inscrutable goals. The source of the incredible new technologies that drove the advances of the middle of the twentieth century was, perhaps, the whispering of an alien farmer in the ears of his herd ...

Times change, and the golden age of spying is over. We've delivered the harvest of fear that the secret masters desired; or maybe they've simply lost interest in us for the time being. Time will tell. For now, be content that it's all over: the Cold War was a time of strangely rapid technological progress, but also of claustrophobic fear of destruction at three minutes' notice, of the thermonuclear stars coming right and bringing madness and death in their wake. Retreat into your soap-bubble universe, little primate, and give thanks.

From the perspective of the 21st century, Bond was a poor archetype for a hero; certainly he couldn't save us from the gibbering horrors of the Cold War, but only cast a shadow beneath their unblinking ground-zero glare. But we found salvation in the end, in the most unlikely place of all: if you turn on the TV you're likely to see one of old Ernst's protégés being held up for praise as an object of emulation. President of Italy, captain of industry, or chief executive of Enron -- SPECTRE won and it's their world that we live in, the world of the lesser evil.

Palmer Lucky is an evil fucking worm and dipshit beneficiary of government contracts. He’s the Oculus jackass with a shitty soul patch who runs a military defense company called Anduril. I could continue to talk about the general ways I dislike him on a personal level, but I’ll instead focus on a specific one: He shares many of my hobbies, including an enthusiasm for retro gaming and FPGA hardware. If you see the company ModRetro, know that’s his company. ModRetro recently released an FPGA-based machine in the shape of the N64 called the M64. You do not, under any circumstances, need to buy a war crime N64. 

First let’s just talk about the practical: There’s no shortage of ways to play the N64. You can get original hardware and a CRT or an upscaler like the Retrotink, a piece of hardware that’s made by people who really care. You can also mod an HDMI port into an old N64 if you aren’t a coward. If you want something FPGA-based that plays cartridges, the Analogue 3D works. The Superstation One runs FPGA cores just fine. Or to hell with it, just get a MiSTer or even just download a god-fearing emulator. Nobody needs Palmer Luckey’s evil little device, particularly when the market has never been more saturated. 

This is not the first product ModRetro has put out. They also put an evil Game Boy out, and specifically put one out in “attack drone metal.” I hate these winking little shits. Not only are they using retro gaming to be fascists, they’re doing it in the corniest way humanly possible. 

Former Nintendo of America President Reggie Fils-Aimé took to X, The Everything App twice in one day to signal boost that evil dipshit’s pet project. In the spirit of Hater Week, I’d like to officially state that Reggie can go fuck himself as well. 

Argonaut Games also announced they’d be rereleasing Buck Bumble in collaboration with ModRetro, and immediately got dragged for it in the replies. Buck Bumble can also fuck off.

We cannot let these people feel comfortable in our hobby. Even if it’s just on a personal level, I’m sick of seeing them. The Video Game History Foundation’s Frank Cifaldi said it best last December: “I say this with zero irony: if you are even tangentially a part of a retro video game community, it is your civic duty to push back against this company and shun anyone who doesn't. This is fascism tapping gently at the door and as soon as you let it in, it's going to invite its friends.” 

If we do not draw a line somewhere, they will continue to bring their hatred to us. There’s no better time than the present.

Books Science Fiction

Solving Population Decline Through Science Fiction

Real-world solutions might be expensive or politically unpopular, so why not take a page from SF?

By James Davis Nicoll

|

Published on July 27, 2026

Inherit the Earth cover art by Donato Giancola

25

Share

Inherit the Earth cover art by Donato Giancola

In 2025, Canada’s population shrank for the first time since Confederation. The reason for this is very subtle: if babies born + immigrants is a smaller number than deaths + emigrants, then the population will shrink. Canada has a low birth rate and we recently turned down the dial on immigration. As a consequence, there are fewer people in Canada in 2026 than there were in 2024. Only mathematicians of the very highest order can easily wrap their minds around equations so arcane, thus we cannot blame the government if they are surprised by the logical outcome of their actions. After all, it isn’t like there’s any precedent for low birth-rate, low immigration nations featuring declining populations.

Generally speaking, governments want their populations to grow because the economy and tax base tend to scale with population. Whether or not population growth is always a good idea is a matter for another essay. Let’s just assume for the moment Canada wants more Canadians¹.

Currently there are three obvious options:

Increase the birth rate

There are a number of ways this could be done (subsidizing children, for example, or punishing those who try to avoid having children). Decree 770 provides an example of how well the second one works in practice. Subsidizing babies doesn’t seem to be much more successful, aside from having fewer immediate negative externalities like dead mothers or legions of abandoned babies.

Increase immigration

This is easy to implement and works well enough, although you will want to expand housing accordingly. However, it does encounter the minor issue² that every nation appears to have a healthy supply of xenophobic racists—often people whose ancestors were themselves targets of xenophobic racism—which means immigration can be a political hot potato.

Decrease emigration

Either convince people not to leave or make it difficult for them to leave. I’m all in favour of the first option, but it might involve wild-eyed socialism such as ensuring sufficient housing, economic opportunities, not having a deranged and heavily armed nation right next door, and so on and so forth—all courses to which federal and provincial governments seem cool. The second requires an impenetrable border. Borders are notoriously penetrable and Canada has so very much border. Plus, the voters are unlikely to react well to being told they cannot leave.

What is a government to do when solutions are difficult to implement and/or come with a lofty political price tag? Turn to speculative fiction for solutions!

Territorial expansion

Canada is no stranger to expansion. The province of Newfoundland and Labrador, for example, is a relatively recent addition. One cannot help but notice that immediately south of the border there are millions of proto-Canadians who would no doubt welcome us as liberators. Nibbling a Detroit here and a New York City there would shore up our population for a very long time.

There is a Canada-specific SF work that comes to mind; Dean Ing’s Systemic Shock, in which Canada annexes the upper third of the US, thus allowing a post-World War IV streamlined America to better focus on its core strengths. I don’t know how many new Canadians we got out of that, given that the territory in question was nuked, irradiated, and sown with bioweapons, but probably not zero…and the irradiated, sickly former Americans seem likely to appreciate single-payer health care more than the Canadians for whom it is not a novelty.

Life extension

Remember babies born + immigrants and deaths + emigrants? Reducing the number of deaths can also result in population growth. Additionally, whereas encouraging (or requiring) more babies and immigrants or fewer emigrants could prove very unpopular, almost nobody objects to the idea of living longer. The extreme case is if everyone is immortal. With no deaths and no emigration, global population can only grow.

This logic played a prominent role in the backstory to Brian Stableford’s Inherit the Earth. Hellier and his allies reasoned that:

Thus the engineered wave of apocalyptic pandemics to greatly reduce the human population, especially the poor people³, plus an extra pandemic that sterilized everyone to ensure that the elite who survived were dependent on artificial, easily regulated, reproduction.

This seems an appropriate juncture to acknowledge that many people, especially science fiction authors (as discussed in an earlier article), are somewhat cool on high populations. Still, if not for Hellier and his pals, this setting might have been an unqualified example.

Mass production

Currently, the supply of new locally-produced Canadians is entirely composed of artisanal, handcrafted⁴ babies, each one of whom requires nine months of hard work by a single labourer⁵ and then almost two decades of communal effort to turn into an adult. What is this, the Paleolithic? We’ve mechanized, industrialized, and automated so much of modern life. Why not people-making?

SF offers a wide range of options here. For example, Bujold’s uterine replicators (seen in her Vorkosigan books), lend themselves to factory production of babies, although as the author notes, they don’t solve the problem of raising or educating the little tykes.

A more effective approach would produce functional adults, created able to fill their role in the economy, or failing that, would duplicate already existing adults. The Pohl and Williamson-scribed Farthest Star’s misleadingly named tachyon transporter (it was actually a duplicator) would almost qualify, if not for the fact the purposes to which duplicates are put greatly limits their lifespan. A better example would be the fax from Wil McCarthy’s Queendom of Sol series, which could produce as many duplicates as there was matter available from which to construct them.

No doubt there are other possibilities I’ve overlooked. Feel free to mention them in comments below—and for further reading on SFF’s treatment of the issue of population decline, you may want to check out this previous essay.[end-mark]

1. How many would be ideal? Well, there has to be at least one Canadian for Canadians to exist and even very optimistic estimates of how many humans the Earth can support tend to cap out at about one trillion. The answer is unlikely to be at either extreme. The median is five hundred billion Canadians, which is a nice round number. ︎
2. Well, two minor issues. Birthrates are falling almost everywhere. How willing will governments be to allow people to leave when everyone is running short of citizens? ︎
3. Judging by the surnames of the characters in the book, the sufficiently elite seem to have been white Anglophones like their author. What an extraordinary coincidence. ︎
4. “Handcrafted” isn’t quite accurate, but it is a term Reactor will likely allow to appear in print. ︎
5. With design input from another person early in the process. ︎

The post Solving Population Decline Through Science Fiction appeared first on Reactor.

Here are some nuggets from the Wikipedia page about Victor Marx, the GOP candidate for governor in Colorado:

Marx was born to a man named Karl Marx and a young mother . . .Marx says he is a survivor of child abuse.^[7] Marx claimed that at age three, his stepfather forced him to behead a cat and wear its carcass on his head.

Marx alleged that at age seven, his abusive stepfather took him to a rural area of Mendenhall, Mississippi, and made him shoot and kill a man. Mississippi sheriffs and police in the area have said there is no record of any unsolved homicides from that time. Marx claimed he contacted the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the local sheriff’s office, neither of which could solve the case as Marx was unable to provide many details. There is no evidence that Marx ever contacted authorities.^[6] Marx mentioned in an interview with Colorado news station 9news that he is unsure how many people he has killed, and that he thinks the exact details do not need to be clarified

Marx founded All Things Possible Ministries in 2003.^[11] Marx claimed on his campaign website that All Things Possible rescued 45,000 women and children from abuse, which was later removed from his campaign website after being disproved.^[12][8] Marx has since declined to give an exact number of survivors saved in order to not “put people in danger”.^[8][9]

As a minister, Marx has said that he routinely exorcised demons from people, individuals he said were possessed due to the influence of porn or unmarried couples living together.^[13] In a 2023 podcast, he claimed that he “hunts demons” and recalled a time when his dog identified a demonic presence in a couple resting at a pool where he then exorcised the woman from “five demons that had been assigned to her”.^[13]

Marx was reportedly friends with conservative political commentator Charlie Kirk. He has spoken at many Turning Point USA events.

Now if you haven’t accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior all this sounds completely insane — of course it may well sound that way even if you have — but I have a quarter-baked idea here that’s what’s going on is what I’m going to call “Jesus truth,” which is different than regular truth.

Jesus truth is true in an emotional and symbolic, rather than an empirical/factual way. It sounds like Victor Marx had a really rough childhood, and that one way he’s dealt with that is by making up a bunch of crazy-ass stories that he’s told himself and others, and which he’s successfully monetized in the process, because yay America.

Now in the Before Time this kind of thing would usually be preclusive in terms of getting to be a major party’s candidate for governor, even in the ungovernable tribal regions, let alone in an increasingly $38 a pound cheese at Whole Foods state like Colorado. But that was then, this is now, Donald Trump is president, the Republican party has gone completely insane pretty much from top to bottom, and Victor Marx, certifiably crazy person, is going to get 44% of the vote in November. Which is pretty interesting in a somewhat terrifying way.

The post Regular truth v. Jesus truth appeared first on Lawyers, Guns & Money.

The Trump administration is quietly considering a rule change that could make it easier for polluters to build facilities—including certain gas plants and diesel generators that power data centers—with little to no notice to the public.

On Wednesday, the Environmental Protection Agency held a public hearing on a proposed rule change that would hand the power to states to decide how the public participates in the permitting process for certain new sources of air pollution. The proposed rollback comes as data centers face greater pushbackacross the US, with many communities using the permitting process to try to slow down development. Any changes could have major consequences for how ordinary people are given notice about new or expanded polluting facilities coming into their neighborhoods.

“As someone actively working in communities with data centers, I know this to be fundamentally true: People want to have a say,” Vanessa Lynch, a Pennsylvania organizer with Moms Clean Air Force, said at the EPA hearing.

Companies building any kind of facilities that release air pollution are required to get permits under the Clean Air Act. Polluting sources can either be put through a “major” permitting process, meaning that they meet or exceed thresholds for certain pollutants, or a “minor” one for those that don’t.

Major sources of pollution are reviewed by both federal and state regulators and have extensive requirements before and after construction. However, there’s less oversight of minor sources. The scope of what gets permitted as a minor source is extremely broad and can include everything from dry cleaners and auto body shops to to diesel and gas engines. The latter two are increasingly being used to power data centers, with operators such as xAI and Meta using minor source permitting processes to build behind-the-meter gas plants.

The Clean Air Act does require the public to be involved in permitting processes; Congress has specified that major sources need to have several public steps, including a public hearing. EPA rules require some public participation for minor source permits. But thanks to a patchwork of state enforcement laws, that engagement process—and whether state agencies are actually complying with EPA requirements—varies across the US.

If the proposed rule is finalized, “it would put state and local agencies most familiar with local issues in the driver’s seat to determine whether, when, and for how long to provide opportunities for public participation for proposed new minor sources and modifications,” an EPA spokesperson tells WIRED, noting the rule wouldn't alter emissions standards.

These state-by-state differences can make a big difference in how the public gets involved. Keri Powell, an Atlanta-based attorney at the environmental legal advocacy group Southern Environmental Law Center, says that groups like hers often end up taking on cases in states like Georgia, which, she says, has a more robust public notification and participation process for minor sources. Earlier this month, the group alerted the state utility about construction issues at a data center, based on information they’d gotten from the companies’ public air permit applications. But if the EPA removes the federal requirement, community and legal groups in the state could get little to no heads up about upcoming projects and be shut out of participation and review.

“Georgia is an example of a place where I can say I’m concerned,” Powell says.

Sara Lips, the director of communications at Georgia’s Environmental Protection Division, says that the agency is “determining whether proposed federal rule changes would affect the public participation requirements per the state regulations.”

Kentucky also has stronger public participation laws for minor source permits. Byron Gary, a senior attorney at the Kentucky Resources Council, says state agencies have made an “informal commitment” behind the scenes to keep their public participation rules the same, even if the EPA changes its rules. But, he says, that could shift: “Who knows [if] the next administration, whether they would actually change it.”

Texas is an example of what lower levels of engagement look like. The data center boom there has driven a massive buildout of private gas plants, many of which rely on minor pollution permits. The state’s lower levels of enforcement have left some communities living in the shadows of data centers surprised at the scope of fossil fuel infrastructure being installed near their homes.

Since coming into power, the Trump administration has gone all in on artificial intelligence, removing multiple roadblocks for data center development at the federal level. That includes efforts at the EPA, which is working to make the US “the AI capital of the world,” the agency spokesperson says.

Companies are also spending vast sums of money on the data center buildout: Spending on data center construction outpaced spending on public transportation infrastructure for the first time in June. Given that public opposition is creating a new bottleneck for data center development, the timing of the rule revision, Powell says, is probably not an accident.

“I think it's part of a package of rules that the Trump administration is pushing through to make it easier for AI data centers to be constructed,” she says.

This story originally appeared on wired.com.

Read full article

Comments

Google briefly allowed anyone to create AI-modified versions of satellite imagery available in Google Earth—before quickly reversing its decision as people shared examples of AI-generated pictures that illustrated the potential for misinformation and disinformation.

There is no shortage of generative AI tools that already allow people to create AI-modified images of real buildings and cities based on user prompts. But Google’s aborted attempt to incorporate its Nano Banana 2 AI image generator as a Google Earth feature made it even easier for anyone to create modified versions of authentic imagery depicting real locations—something that Google boasted about when initially promoting the new feature.

“For the first time, you can generate custom images using Google Earth’s satellite, aerial, and 3D imagery alongside Nano Banana, which creates concepts grounded in the real world,” wrote Bryan Horowitz, product manager for Google Earth, in a company blog post on July 30.

That possibility deeply alarmed researchers, who often use Google Earth to help verify images and videos of locations at a time when AI-generated misinformation and disinformation have become rampant online. They showed how the new feature could simplify the process of creating false scenarios overlaid on Google Earth’s photorealistic imagery.

“Google Earth, a tool often used as a source of satellite imagery to verify photos and videos, has added a feature that allows you to alter satellite imagery with AI, for reasons,” wrote Eliot Higgins, founder of the independent investigative organization Bellingcat, in a Bluesky post responding to the AI feature’s debut.

“No way this could be abused,” Higgins added sarcastically in a follow-up post that featured an AI-modified image made in Google Earth showing a giant golden statue of President Donald Trump looming over the White House.

Within a day, Google announced on the social media platform X that it was rolling back the feature. Shortly afterward, Ars checked and found that the feature was inaccessible to Google Earth users.

Before removing the AI feature, Google had touted its potential to allow Google Earth users to depict completed real estate projects or enable teachers and students to transform the modern-day ruins of Pompeii into a “hyper-realistic view” of what the town looked like in 78 CE under the Roman Empire. But independent researchers immediately gravitated toward the potential for misuse.

“Tonight I typed just one sentence into Google Earth and put refugees near the Mexican border,” wrote Henk van Ess, an independent investigator, in an extensive blog post detailing his concerns on July 30. “Then I planted a nuclear plant in Iran. Then I put a fatal crash on a street in Amsterdam. Google’s own satellite imagery underneath all three. What on earth is Google doing?”

Checking for misinformation

Ess pointed to a previous example of AI-generated misinformation gone viral that used a Google Earth satellite photo of the US Navy’s Fifth Fleet headquarters in Manama, Bahrain. A forger had prompted Google’s Gemini AI assistant to transform a screenshot of that Google Earth image into a false image depicting the aftermath of an Iranian drone strike on the US military base.

The same process that might have taken about six steps could be done “in seconds” with the AI tool built into Google Earth, Ess said.

Before eventually removing the Google Earth feature, Google initially responded to Ess by highlighting its SynthID system that automatically embeds digital watermarks in images generated by Google’s AI tools.

“We take misinformation seriously—every image created with Nano Banana in Google Earth includes the SynthID digital watermark, so if someone is unsure about an image, they can ask the Gemini app or use Lens in Search to see if the image was AI-generated,” according to Google’s post on X on July 30. “In addition, we prevent image creation on harmful topics and are continually updating our protections.”

Previous Ars testing of Google’s SynthID system has shown that Google’s digital watermark can persist despite substantial image edits and data loss. However, Ars also encountered the issue of SynthID limiting image checks to about 10 per day.

When Ars prompted Google’s Gemini app to run a SynthID check on several AI-modified images generated within Google Earth—before Google removed the Google Earth feature—Gemini responded that it had “detected digital watermarking indicating that part or all of this image was generated or edited using Google AI tools.”

But Ess questioned why Google’s policy on preventing the creation of AI-generated images on harmful topics had not stopped him from depicting scenes such as a hospital with a bomb crater in Gaza. He also expressed skepticism about primarily relying on Google’s SynthID watermarking system and Google’s AI tools for verifying whether an image is AI-generated.

“Fakes do not travel as clean files with their credentials intact,” Ess wrote. “They travel as screen recordings, re-encodes, screenshots of screenshots, filmed off somebody’s phone in a hurry.”

Indeed, Google’s SynthID was unable to provide any image verification when Ars used a smartphone camera to take a photo of an AI-altered image made using the Google Earth feature.

Undermining trust

By introducing an AI image generator as a Google Earth feature, Google risked undermining public trust in Google Earth as a reliable reference for providing authentic imagery of the real world, Ess said. It could have also handed an additional excuse to government officials or anyone who wants to deny genuine satellite photos by claiming they were modified or generated entirely by AI tools.

Giving anyone access to an easy tool to create AI-modified satellite imagery could have also made it even harder for journalists and researchers checking misinformation and disinformation. Ess recommended using multiple sources to verify satellite imagery and relying on constantly updated satellite imagery sources such as Europe’s Copernicus Sentinel-2.

Google may have alleviated immediate concerns by deciding to quickly remove the AI tool within Google Earth—but its statement suggested that the company could eventually bring the feature back in the future.

“We’ve seen geospatial professionals using this feature for a range of useful purposes, however we’ve also seen people sharing screenshots of generated imagery that appear to violate our policies,” according to the Google statement. “So we’re rolling back this feature in Google Earth while we work on implementing stronger guardrails.”

Read full article

Comments