I would not know this from personal experience, but the nineteen sixties must have been an interesting time in which to live. On the one hand, the Vietnam War raged on; political assassinations of progressive leaders were another major bummer. But the great strides in civil rights and the sexual revolution must have offered some hope for the future.

That hope was reflected in the popular science fiction of the time. “Star Trek” offered a glorious image of all humanity united against funny-looking species that all wore the same outfit. The only problem is that the future is not living up to this rosy and naïve prediction. All that remains of the nineteen sixties are a number of hideous government buildings made from blue and white and tan bricks.

Science fiction today yields gloomier speculation: it is all battles and infections and grim dialogue. It is true that, thanks to the insanely ignorant policies of our current government, we will never again in our lifetimes know a period without war and terror. But come on. What has happened to our collective hope?

Oh, I stumbled across it by accident. It seems that the science fiction writers of old have taken new jobs as brand managers for multinational pharmaceutical corporations. Instead of focusing their imagination on coming up with exotic names for alien species who all wear the same costume, they are now coming up with names for new drugs.

These are indistinguishable.

Can you not imagine a scenario in which the peaceful denizens of the planet Abreva in Prilosector 23 are confronted by the monstrous race of Paxilians? Only through the power of the Clarinex matrix can the beleaguered Abrevans win the day. And then, heady with triumph, they all take out their Zyrtec transmogrifiers and dial up the latest planetary outfit.