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The year 2025 might sound more futuristic. Perhaps it's the sound of the consonant "f" in "five". But 2026 signifies one step beyond, a moment where we find ourselves, with every science-fiction-style advancement – chiefly the broad integration of artificial intelligence – seeming dystopian, or perhaps more grim. (Doesn't it feel like in a true dystopia, the mind-dulling corporate-sponsored dehumanizing technology might operate more effectively?) Did no one sound the alarm regarding this?

The answer, at least regarding science fiction films from years ago (or sometimes months ago) positioned in 2026, is a mixed bag. Some of these prophecies are universally relevant (global catastrophe) but in detail far-fetched (if humanity is inevitably decimated, we will most likely take the primate species alongside us). Some of them are visionary; the rest just resemble poor visual effects. But it's valuable to explore where various film-makers, ranging from masters to journeymen, thought we'd be situated by this time in the world's development. Therefore, we shall examine at some of the movies that have been depicted in 2026 over the years and determine if they contain any lessons to teach us.

Doom

Now, this doesn't bode well. According to the video game adaptation *Doom*, whose two-decade milestone was noted by virtually no one, 2026 is the year that humanity finds a portal to an long-lost metropolis on Mars, where the inhabitants of Earth are able to set up a research facility. Currently, the negative events – regarding narrative and in terms of over-the-top cinematic imitations of a first-person-shooter video game – does not actually transpire for another 20 years later, so even if we do discover a portal to Mars now, we could gain some time to avoid true disaster. Were we to discover a passageway to an old Martian city, it's truly hard to tell whether a certain tech billionaire would remain super-psyched to send everyone to Mars or would immediately turn dejected that the portal was not a thing he personally paid for, allowing him to assert savior-like ownership for mankind's expansion into the stars. That's before we consider the harvesting of Martian chromosomes and subsequent transformations into horrific creatures. (Again, this is nearer 2046, not to be confused with the acclaimed director's film.) In general, *Doom* is (at the very least) a good test case for the reasons we let Mars serve as a long-term hope for humanity. Be it in John Carpenter's cheap-looking space-western *Ghosts of Mars*, the realistic sci-fi of *Red Planet*, or the woo-woo mysticism of *Mission to Mars*, our far-off planet doesn't tend to act as a symbol of optimism. Should someone wishes to make that questionable Martian real estate sale, maybe they should start with first making the fictional depiction appear appealing.

The Marvel Dregs

A of the strangest features of the current Marvel Cinematic Universe is the way it handles the various world-threatening disasters, encompassing a half-decade leap whose occurrences are largely not shown in the movies themselves; the films have become like a alarm clock perpetually running a few minutes fast – only instead of minutes, it's annual increments. So there's a whole bunch of MCU content that fan sites helpfully explain to be set in 2026. The good ones, like *Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3* and the underrated adventure *The Marvels*, occur far away from Earth, and so feel pretty unmoored from any concrete sense of time. But the poorer material is among the weakest Marvel has ever produced: the convoluted and aimless TV show *Secret Invasion* and the remote-meeting debacle of *Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania*. Judging by these examples, we're in for a great deal of frustrating wheel-spinning in 2026, including the accompanying narrative that actually, this confusing mess happening before our eyes is crucial to whatever happens next. Even worse, in the actual world that claim will probably prove accurate.

The Apes Saga Continues

The majority of the original five-film *Planet of the Apes* series is set in the further-flung future of Earth, but the modern series that started with 2011’s *Rise of the Planet of the Apes* starts nearer the present, initiating its timeline approximately 2016. Thus, when a pathogen that devastates the majority of Earth’s people has done its damage, and simultaneously enhanced the cognitive abilities of primates, it’s merely 2026, with additional setbacks for mankind (and victories for apes) ahead. The post-credits scene of *Rise*, depicting how rapidly this contagion spreads globally and taking place around 2019, looks downright eerie in the wake of the actual global health crisis that would begin in 2020. By comparison, the movie *Dawn* looks more abstract; astonishingly, we’re already half a decade from the onset of Covid-19, and humanity, though clearly impacted by the still-spreading virus, hasn't been wiped out, and our technology definitely hasn't been disabled. Yet this bleakest of the quartet of modern *Apes* movies (to date!) nonetheless contains a substantial bummer to offer, implying that human and/or ape nature, whatever qualifies as each, will inevitably lead to violent conflict, no matter the work of the most well-meaning individuals. We’re at the mercy of those who exploit others’ baser impulses, even if those drives don't represent the most. Currently, it seems hard to argue with that, despite the fact that we probably should.

Metropolis

By far the best-known depiction of 2026 in film is from a movie close to marking its centennial. Fritz Lang’s iconic silent film *Metropolis* is set in a futuristic city where wealthy industrialists lord over the skyscrapers as laborers work tirelessly below the surface on the machines that power the city. Rich city-dweller Freder, scion of the city’s ruler, has his perspective changed to these enormous social gaps when he becomes obsessed with Maria, an subterranean activist who preaches a reconciliation of the separate strata of Metropolis. A scientist with darker plans builds a automaton in her likeness, aiming to tear the whole of Metropolis to ruin. In this narrative, a robot designed to mimic a human does not serve as an instrument of the ruling corporate class, but someone who desires to witness their downfall; it's one element flipped by reality in a future that otherwise appears to be progressing. *Metropolis* also envisions a world where technology relies on old-fashioned human toil, which seems like a most logical fusion of rightwing contempt for “unskilled workers” and business zeal for an AI bubble. It has not yet come to pass, but it's easy to imagine a somewhat less stylish-looking iteration of Lang’s city growing with the promise of a resurgence to industrial production. The more complex, harder-to-imagine accomplishment is the conclusion of the film, where the chasm between the wealthy and the poor is bridged with compassion; rather than with specific policies. Similar to *Dawn of the Planet of the Apes*, the movie advocates peaceful cohabitation; in contrast to *Dawn*, it appears hopeful about the possibility