Apocalypse Later

Has the end of the world has already come and gone?

The rapid progress of artificial intelligence in the past year has sparked debates about whether humans might soon relinquish dominance over the planet. The most pessimistic projections claim that machines could take control within the next five to ten years, with fears that they will subjugate and ultimately eradicate humanity. However, others view this as a shift toward a new way of life, where humans collaborate with AI for the greater good. This vision promises not only more leisure and less work but also cures for many medical conditions and innovative strategies to address global climate change.

However, AI is not the sole focus of societal anxiety regarding global catastrophes. Climate change and pandemics are also prominent concerns. The media frequently labels these issues as heralds of a potential "apocalypse," a term used so often that it risks being overlooked or dismissed as exaggeration.

Since the earliest whispers of civilization, humans have been drawn to the idea of the world's end. But here's a little-known fact that might surprise you: the word 'apocalypse' wasn't always about doom. In ancient Greek, "apokalyptein" simply meant to uncover or reveal—it had nothing to do with hellfire and brimstone.

Take Plato, for instance, in his dialogue “Protagoras.” He played with the term in a mundane context—describing a doctor asking a patient to disrobe for an examination, and metaphorically, asking someone to lay bare their thoughts. It was more about revelation than ruin, a concept of unveiling truths hidden just beneath the surface, not unlike the suspenseful unearthing of secrets in a small, eerie Maine town under a full autumn moon.

A Pew Research Center survey reports that 39% of Americans think we're living in the end times. And another 10% are convinced Jesus is gonna make a comeback, a shared percentile with those who are waiting the second coming of Elvis.

For some Christians, the idea of an apocalypse isn't all fire and brimstone. It's more like a spiritual cleansing service—out with the sinners, in with the righteous. Heaven's version of an extreme home makeover.

But if you ask anyone not carrying a Bible, "apocalypse" just sounds like a bad day that keeps on giving. To them, it's not a divine clean-up; it's more like the planet saying, "I've had it with you guys. Game over." No redemption arc, no sequel—just credits rolling with a sad trombone sound. If the world's going to end, most of us would rather it not be during our lifetime. Woody Allen once said, “I’m not afraid of dying. I just don’t want to be there.”

During the Cold War, everyone was obsessed with nuclear apocalypse. It was everywhere—newspapers, TV, you name it. Remember 1983’s "The Day After?" A hundred million Americans tuned in to watch the world blow up, which was probably the biggest group therapy session in history.

That movie served as a warning that many took seriously. A few years later, the Soviet Union fell, bringing new opportunities for peace. Over the last quarter century, a slow decline. Now, sadly, more advanced nuclear weapons have received renewed funding.

In the '90s, the concept of apocalypse got a makeover. It wasn't just about nukes anymore; concerns shifted to climate change and diseases. We seemed to crave variety in our global catastrophes: hurricanes, pandemics, and even famines all entered the mix.

By the 2000s, and especially the 2010s, it was all about environmental doom. "Forget nuclear winter, have you seen the actual winter lately?" Mother Nature decided if we weren’t going to listen to her subtle hints, she’d just crank up the thermostat and drop some hurricanes on us until we paid attention. Which gave birth to the climate change deniers, a group seemingly based in the Villages somewhere in Central Florida, within peeing distance of Mar a Lago.

Along comes COVID-19 and boom, we've got apocalypse headlines multiplying like toilet paper hoarders. In the first four years of this decade, we saw three times more stories about pandemics ending the world than in all the 2010s.

Then AI. Remember when AI in the news was just about beating humans at chess? Well, fast forward to 2024, and AI is now headlining the apocalypse charts, outdoing even nuclear scares. Our smartphones might just be plotting the end of the world. Maybe we are living in an episode of the Twilight Zone or even The Matrix.

The big takeaway, our use of "apocalypse" has evolved. It's not just about the end times anymore; it's about the many creative ways we might get there. And ironically, we're using an ancient word to express our modern fears.

The way we report on the apocalypse today doesn’t just hint at how the world might end, but it paints a picture of all the ways it could crash down around us. It's a bit of a paradox, really: we're most creative when thinking about our destruction, resurrecting an ancient word to capture the myriad of ways we might meet our end, like characters in a classic horror novel where the shadows are deepest just before the final page turns.

Is it possible that the world has already ended and we are living in the coda?