Decline of Our Future

The decline of science fiction, or fiction in general, or even that of music, films, our culture in general, is eminent and depressing. The reason is apparent to me. We don't believe in future anymore. Without future, we only have to maintain (sustain?), making do with what we already have. We don't need any imagination. The future has already come and we've started to consume it. As Bill Gibson once suggested, without the imagination and innovation in the street, all technology brings no real joy, just commodities to consume. They're just convenient tools. We have cell phones, e-book readers, tablets, and all those networks to bring the whole world to ourselves, which we just consume, its information, entertainments, wisdoms, and demagogues. We can choose whatever there is and we're still not satisfied, yet we think that's all there is to avail. We're now losing our imagination. The reason again is apparent. We don't have "us" any more.
Our generation tends to talk a lot about the sixties, when there were futures. Science fiction was a pop and cool literature, and technology was slick and weird at the same time. The world was full of visionaries, even drugs were a means to take us to far out trips, not media of mere entertainments. Where have all those future gone? we tend to wonder. But gone were not the futures. They've come now. We've just lost "us." We're now divided, entrenched in our little cozy beliefs and causes, and only communicate with those who dwell in the same virtual reality. Red and Blue don't share the same reality, South and North, East and West, either. When adults read YA, it's because they need some different kind of entertainment. It isn't for the purpose to understand their youths, or to share their visions. By enjoying YA, adults steal the joy of such fiction from them, averting its trend and course to their liking. See how the characters of Twilight turn into sex maniacs in Fifty Shades of Grey. They don't share its romance with their kids. They just devour. And see how poorly they imagine their own adult sex lives. It's not imagination or visions they share. They just hold onto what they already have. We don't communicate, because we don't believe in any possibility that we can share something together except what we already do. Because we don't believe in "us."
In the sixties we could believe in us. Even in the communist countries, there were their own youth revolts. Even kids in the undeveloped countries enthused at the Beatles. We could relate to each other, we imagined, and we tried to share our visions and imaginations. We could venture into farthest alien worlds, because we knew we could always ask "Beam us home, Scotty" to return home, return to "us." We believed in our Spaceship Earth. We don't have that anymore, although there still remains only one earth for us. We don't want to share our future with aliens now, outsiders to our tiny separate groups of interests, because we don't share their values. We do occasionally care for them, I agree. But it's not sharing. It's not love. It brings no joy.
If you need a future, where you can liberate your imagination and vision and venture into a wonderful quest, you need some fellowship. People you can share your future with. When it comes to the future of our planet, or human race, we need to identify with it. In the sixties, the answer was love. But what do or can we have now? I still need the future, I still need love. Do you?