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The worst part is how she's wearing a suit instead of an event t-shirt with holes in it.

The catastrophic hack of at least thousands of FBI officials’ personal data, including their addresses, phone numbers, and even their spouses, includes members of the FBI’s secretive hacking team, potentially revealing who exactly is in that unit, 404 Media has found.

The findings further highlight how sensitive the stolen data is, and how valuable it may be to criminals or to foreign intelligence agencies. There is very little public information about the FBI’s hacking unit, including the operations it conducts, the tools it uses, or which agents are part of it.

The FBI said in a statement it “is aware of a cyber-criminal enterprise group claiming a compromise of the FBIJobs.gov portal and alleged impact to FBI employee personally identifiable information (PII). While the point of breach is still undetermined — whether a third-party or the FBI’s enterprise — we are actively and aggressively investigating this matter and working closely with those third-party providers that support FBIJobs.gov to mitigate any and all risk.”

404 Media first broke news of the breach on Tuesday. The group responsible, ShinyHunters, shared a list of 5,000 alleged FBI officials with 404 Media. 404 Media verified parts of the data by cross-referencing it with open source records available in the research tool OSINT Industries, and previously compromised data in Darkside, a tool made by cybersecurity company District 4.

As well as the officials’ personal information, the list of 5,000 officials includes each person’s job title or team. Those include titles such as Special Agent, Threat Intake Examiner, and Major Cyber Crimes Unit. Reuters reported on Wednesday some of the job titles include those related to investigating China or Russia. 

404 Media found three of the entries in the data specifically mention “remote operations units.” The Remote Operations Unit, or ROU, is the FBI’s hacking unit. For much of the previous decade, the ROU was focused on making and deploying tools to investigate the dark web, according to a 2020 report from the Office of the Inspector General. The ROU was “instrumental” in developing the network investigative technique (NIT) — the FBI’s parlance for a hacking tool — the agency deployed on a dark web child abuse site the FBI ran for two weeks in order to identify site visitors.

After budget decreases, its focus has shifted to tools for national security investigations, the report says. Much of the rest of that report discussing the ROU is redacted.

The parts of the hacked data related to the ROU expose each person’s address, a list of phone numbers for them, and in some cases the name of their spouses and their phone numbers. 404 Media searched one of the ROU official’s phone numbers in Darkside, and found previously breached data indicating they used to work for the Secret Service.

One person in the data also appears to be a student, with the data describing them as a “student workforce trainee.”

The ROU has previously used classified hacking tools in ordinary criminal investigations, raising questions over whether defendants were able to scrutinize how evidence against them was collected.

You may have noticed that Apple has made our summers quite busy in recent years, keeping us on our toes by introducing first visionOS, then Apple Intelligence, then Liquid Glass. Relatively speaking, this summer’s operating system updates were a breath of fresh air! We do love new technology and we’ve enjoyed working with each new thing—but this summer we were relieved to update our apps to reflect Apple’s refinements from the last few years, rather than adapting our products for yet another new major technology launch. (Naturally, that reprieve didn’t last long! We now only have a handful of weeks to get ready for the launch of the iPhone Duo announced last week.)

First things first: we’re pleased to report all of our apps are ready for all of Apple’s platform updates, compatible universally across the board. This is no small juggling act, with OmniGraffle supporting three platforms, OmniOutliner and OmniPlan supporting four platforms, and OmniFocus supporting five platforms—especially while we’re simultaneously pushing forward on new major features of our own for each product.

We know that many of you want to be productive on the new operating systems right away, so it’s a priority for you that our apps be ready as soon as possible—and thus it’s a priority for us. We have a good track record of being available “day and date,” but that’s not automatic and there are no guarantees: our track record comes from prioritizing that work. So this year, as always, it’s a relief to be able to say today, on day one, that “we’re ready.”

Of course, each summer we also try to go beyond that foundation of basic compatibility to take advantage of whatever new developments Apple is introducing. This summer, that meant adapting our apps for this year’s refinements to Liquid Glass, while exploring how our apps can best leverage new capabilities coming with Apple’s refinements to Apple Intelligence and Siri AI.

So, what’s ready, and what’s changed?

OmniFocus 4.9 adds support for Siri AI, optional new date parsing assistance via Apple Intelligence, and a range of new and updated App Intents exposed as Shortcuts actions. Alongside full compatibility with macOS 27 Golden Gate, iOS 27, iPadOS 27, watchOS 27, and visionOS 27, this release fine-tunes design elements throughout OmniFocus and introduces a new option for customizing the behavior of the Perspectives Bar on iPhone.

OmniOutliner 6.3 includes new Liquid Glass refinements across all Apple’s platforms, making the app feel more at home on the new operating systems.

Our other apps which are now compatible with ‘OS 27 include: OmniPlan 4.11 (for all platforms), OmniGraffle 7.26 for Mac and OmniGraffle 3.23 for iPad and iPhone, and OmniPresence 1.10. (Even the latest test builds of OmniDiskSweeper and OmniWeb have been updated.)

On the automation front, we’ve added new API to OmniFocus and OmniOutliner that humans and tools can use to search the Omni Automation API. (How meta!) This means that as we work towards implementing the Model Context Protocol (MCP), that interface can be much more efficient by giving tools the ability to write scripts while only pulling in the documentation needed for the task at hand.

While building these updates, we explored how our apps can leverage new capabilities with Apple’s refinements to Apple Intelligence and Siri AI, as well as finding out what Siri and Apple Intelligence can and cannot do at this time.

Built for the Future of Siri AI and Apple Intelligence

Apple has built a really great foundation for the future of Siri. Siri started out answering questions about things it could find on the Internet (stock prices, sports scores, and so on). It grew to control your device in simple ways (start a timer, etc.) that expanded over the years. Now, leveraging Apple Intelligence, Siri AI understands a lot more of what we say, and has access to the personal context we already have on our devices—putting that information to use, while still keeping it private and under your control.

Giving Siri access to personal context is a big advance. I’ve always been able to search my computer for a locally stored document, but with Siri I can now ask questions about the content stored in those documents. I trust my computer with that content—it already lives on my device, after all—so it’s incredibly powerful to be able to ask the computer to reference and do something with it.

Let’s say we just had a meeting, and a team member sent out the minutes. I can ask Siri to create reminders in OmniFocus for the follow up items from that meeting. All of this can be done while keeping my data private and secure, on devices that are under my control. The system doesn’t need to copy my data elsewhere; it just has new ways of working with this data it already has.

It’s a tremendous leap forward for those of us who like to control our own data. And it’s still early days for this technology: we see potential for more progress in the future.

That said, there are some important limits worth noting.

In our testing we’ve found that the new Siri AI hasn’t yet learned how to work with app capabilities that it hasn’t specifically been trained on, even for App Intents that are available in Shortcuts and Spotlight. For example, its understanding of how to work with OmniFocus is based on how it’s been trained to work with the Reminders app. Our work in OmniFocus 4.9 means that Siri now knows about “reminders” in OmniFocus (i.e. actions and Inbox items), “lists” (i.e. projects) which contain reminders, and any “groups” (i.e. folders) that lists have been organized into. Siri can assign and edit reminder due dates, flags, repeat schedules, and notes and image attachments in OmniFocus. This is another great leap forward! But as soon as you try to go beyond what Reminders can do, you find its limits: for example, it doesn’t understand the distinction between due dates, planned dates, and defer dates.

Siri also doesn’t really understand much about how our document-based apps work, because Apple hasn’t trained it on our specific apps or anything equivalent. So, Siri doesn’t know how to make an outline, or a diagram, or a Gantt chart. We expect this to improve over time—after all, we’ve worked with other language models that do understand how to make those things—but it’s important to understand Siri’s current limits.

Siri now knows what’s on the screen, which gives it a lot more context than it used to have. And Siri has some ability to manipulate things on the screen—sometimes. However, Siri doesn’t actually know how to fully control the screen. It doesn’t yet understand how to activate controls, or invoke commands from menus such as our plug-in actions. Fortunately, on macOS Voice Control can fill that particular gap, and a few years ago we did a lot of work to implement Voice Control: with one install, you can control every menu command in OmniFocus using your voice. Voice Control and Siri are designed to work together cooperatively. You can ask Siri to do something; then use Voice Control to open a window, switch perspectives, or run a plug-in; then go back to talking with Siri. (To learn more, check out OmniFocus Voice Control page put together by our automation expert, Sal Soghoian.)

Taking a step back, a fundamental limit to understand is that language models are not perfect oracles. Models generate statistically probable responses to prompts, not actual answers to questions. Models don’t know fact from fiction. You can ask Siri questions about what it can and can’t do and try to explore its limitations, and it will make up plausible responses to those prompts. But those answers are often just made up, or regurgitated from its training set without true understanding. The answers may sound authoritative, but that doesn’t mean they actually reflect reality.

Overall, though, it’s exciting to see how much more capable Siri has become. And I haven’t even covered everything! Beyond Siri’s traditional capabilities, beyond personal context and improved language processing, Siri now also has Visual Intelligence to gather information from the world around you—combining Optical Character Recognition (OCR), handwriting recognition, shape recognition, and other visual AI technologies. For example, you can pick up a note with hand-written action items and ask Siri to add those items to OmniFocus. Or you can take a picture of a whiteboard and ask Siri to do things with that input.

Spotlight has been an important Mac technology for decades, and our apps have had strong support for Spotlight since it was first introduced in 2005. With Siri AI, Spotlight becomes even more important as a source for personal context. You can ask Siri about content in your OmniFocus database, so Siri can summarize the actions you’ve completed this week, or tell you what items you might consider working on soon.

There’s a lot here to celebrate! Apple’s advances are great. And, as noted above, we never take for granted that we’ll make our goal of having all our apps compatible on the day and date that the operating systems are released; so it’s a huge relief to have all of that work done. We celebrate that those updates are shipping!

Also, last week we celebrated the 34th anniversary of the Omni Group (the date we registered omnigroup.com)! Speaking of things we never take for granted, 34 years is quite a long time. Looking back at 1992, the Soviet Union had just dissolved at the end of the previous year. Meanwhile, from our neck of the woods in Seattle, Nirvana had taken over the music charts, and the novel Snow Crash had just popularized terms like “metaverse” and “avatar.” And, especially relevant to our tech world, NeXT was just shipping NeXTSTEP 3.0.

When we say this is our anniversary, “our” includes you: we couldn’t have made it this far without you. Thank you for supporting us through all these years! Of course, we’re looking forward to celebrating our 35th year next year as we continue this journey with you.

This is the original logo used by the Omni Group from 1992 until the Aqua redesign in 2001. (I created this on a NeXT using Pixar’s RenderMan with a hand-written text RIB source file, back when 3D renderings of marble carvings were still novel.)

(At the Omni Group, we make powerful productivity apps which help you accomplish more every day. Feedback? I’d love to hear from you! You can find me on Mastodon at @kcase@mastodon.social, or send me email at kc@omnigroup.com.)

Scientists have discovered that the removal of Earth's magnetic field influences the lifespans of fruit flies in complex ways, a finding that sheds light on the aging process as well as the risks of future human space travel, according to a study published in the journal Aging on Wednesday. 

All life on Earth has evolved under the planet’s geomagnetic field, a vast bubble lined with electrical currents that is generated in the core and extends out into space. This protective magnetic shield is a major factor in Earth’s habitability, as it wards off harmful radiation from space, allowing life to flourish on the surface. 

Many migratory animals—including fish, birds, and insects—can clearly sense Earth’s magnetism and use it for navigation. But much less is known about how the field interacts with living cells and their components, such as mitochondria, the famous “powerhouses” that generate most of the energy that fuels life.

To better understand this mystery, scientists observed two populations of fruit flies in a “hypomagnetic” shield system, a cylindrical benchtop apparatus that essentially blocks the influence of Earth’s magnetic field. One group contained “wild-type” healthy flies, while the other was made up of “mutant” flies carrying a gene defect called Pink1, which is associated with early-onset Parkinson’s disease in humans and specifically involves mitochondrial dysfunction.

The removal of the magnetic field’s effect extended the lifespan of the Pink1 group by 20 percent but reduced their mobility, whereas the healthy flies experienced just the opposite—reduced lifespan, but improved mobility. 

“We had an idea that there would be a difference just based on the fact that we know that every organism has developed under a magnetic field,” said Jacob Reed, a PhD student in bioscience at the University of Nottingham who co-led the study, in a call with 404 Media. “But we didn't really plan that there would be this difference in the experiment.”

“I think we're the first to show that there's an effect in an organism that has a disease phenotype,” added co-lead Lisa Chakrabarti, a professor of biochemistry at the University of Nottingham, in the same call. “We're really drilling into what the differences are between having that applied pressure or relieving it.”  

While there is a lot of research into the effects of hypermagnetic fields on life—meaning magnetic fields that are stronger than Earth’s—the “biological consequences of hypomagnetic fields remain poorly understood,” according to the new study.

To fill in this research gap, Reed developed an initial pilot study of diseased and healthy flies using the magnetic shielding apparatus, and was surprised to find that the Pink1 population of flies seemed to live longer.

“I was really confused at first,” Reed recalled. “I was thinking: ‘Why are these Parkinson's flies living longer than some of the wild-type flies?’ I had to double-check all of my data. From that, we realized that was what's happening and developed the experiment.”

The team observed dozens of diseased and healthy flies living in these hypomagnetic spaces over the course of their lives, which normally last about two months. In particular, they monitored shifts in the energy metabolisms and chemical outputs of mitochondria using quantum diamond sensors. 

The experiment showed that the absence of Earth’s magnetic field changes how cells age and produce energy, producing clear and measurable effects on longevity. The researchers also saw shifts in locomotion by tracking how far flies climbed upward against gravity in their containers. However, it will take more research to unravel the complex mechanisms that underlie these observable changes.

“This is the early stage, where we can say there is a very real effect,” Chakrabarti said. “As soon as you take off the geomagnetic field, there are physiological effects that we can measure in the mitochondria, in the cellular physiology, and in big things like lifespan and climbing as well. It's a definite interaction between Earth's magnetic field and physiology.” 

The researchers plan to build on their work by studying different organisms in hypomagnetic fields to see if they experience similar mitochondrial and behavioral changes. This work could eventually inspire therapeutic treatments for humans with various conditions, and could also help prepare astronauts for deep space missions beyond Earth’s magnetic field. It is already well-known that astronauts are exposed to harmful radiation outside of the magnetic field, but little is known about the specific impact of the absence of the field itself on human physiology.

“The link with interplanetary space travel is absolutely key,” said Chakrabarti. “There could be subtle differences that we don't really notice while we're on Earth. Unless we know what those parameters are to measure, we're going to be sending astronauts up there that are potentially going to really suffer over the short, or even or the longer, term.”

“All of this is out there at the moment, but what we're saying is that we definitely see a really reproducible and startling effect of removing the geomagnetic field,” she concluded.

A whole decade ago I blogged about a taxonomy of cliches in space opera, with a considerable checklists of things to watch out for in the space opera I was just then starting to work on.

This was almost entirely a background task for most of that time. During the period I was poking at the new space opera project I wrote: the Empire Games trilogy, the New Management trilogy, A Conventional Boy, The Labyrinth Index and The Regicide Report. So, nine other novels. Meanwhile the space opera went through two and a half rewrites, spawned a spin-off novel, and the spin-off novel is now getting its second rewrite, because Reasons (it has to be perfect: also, I'm going to go back to the original space opera next and finish that, too, probably next year, not to mention already having the first 50,000 words of a sequel.).

But anyway: the space opera project has resulted in maybe a third of a million words of fiction so far, and absolutely humongous quantities of world-building work. Which is why I'm now revisiting my earlier thoughts on space opera, to try to better understand what I'm doing here.

First, some clarification. What even is space opera, when it's at home?

While there's no short, concise definition of space opera, there's an extensive monograph on Space Opera in the SF Encyclopedia, tracing its roots back to the US pulp magazine sector around 1900 and following it to 1941, when Wilson Tucker defined it as the appropriate term for the "hacky, grinding, stinking, outworn, spaceship yarn": alternatively, space-adventure stories which have a calculatedly romantic element.

Let's stick a magnifying glass on top of that last phrase. Romaniticism in this context does not have anything to do with the romance genre of fiction (which focusses on love and relationships). Rather it's a shout-out to the romantic movement of the 18th to 19th centuries and its modern descendants, which prioritize passion, intuition, and individualism over social convention—the pursuit of beauty entails an interest in the exotic and mysterious, a celebration of the heroic and the divine, respect for the supernatural, and arguably the will to power and worship of force that took a darker turn in the fascist and totalitarian movements of the 20th century. Stick starships and light sabres and vast vistas of time and space on top of this and you can get an impression of where it's going.

As a romantic genre, space opera requires its protagonists to have enough agency (personal autonomy) to break out of their quotidian setting and have adventures—travel is a big part of this, for it cuts them free of the ties that bind, leaves family behind, and promises escape. To which end, the spaceship is central in space opera just as the sailing ship was key to the age of (ahem) sail. Trying to imagine Moby Dick or Master and Commander without sailing ships is like trying to imagine Star Trek or Star Wars without starships.

You can write romantic adventure-focussed SF without starships (use stargates/wormholes or just set it on a planet where adventure-shaped activities dominate the plot) but what you get then isn't space opera, it's a planetary romance.

(Planetary romance (the sub-genre Jack Vance was famous for) inherently places more constraints on what you can do with your fiction. You can't easily have a planetary setting which combines long travel times, high energy technologies and high population density, for example: long travel times imply no fast vehicles (no high speed rail or air travel, never mind spaceships), which are a side-effect of high energy technologies (internal combustion, gas turbines, big-ass electrical generators and HV grid of any kind) and you can't easily get to any of those things without a sufficiently high population density to support the industries that make them feasible (not just engineering and factories but universities and schools with mass literacy and mining) which in turn implies advanced agriculture—you've got to feed those cities somehow. (Memo to self: hunt down James Burke's Connections on video (they're somewhere on YouTube) and re-watch the series.) It also makes it difficult to justify sub-settings with wildly divergent levels of technology because that stuff leaks—to keep it out you need a North Korean level hermit kingdom, or totally impenetrable jungles that haven't been penetrated by colonialists, or something of that level. (NB: I have found a workaround for this, but I'm not going to spoiler the coming novels!)

Ultimately economics are your enemy if you want to write convincing romanticist fiction without turning into a fantasy-without-the-magic secondary world setting: all it takes is one country inventing capitalism and/or imperialism to muck it up for everybody else). And economics fucks with space opera too: ask yourself what markets plausibly exist for goods and services transported across interstellar distances, and after digesting Paul Krugman's Theory of Interstellar Trade (PDF) you may be left scratching your head.

My go-to answer for economics in space opera is that interstellar expansion/colonization is most plausibly driven by (a) religion ("manifest destiny" is a religious belief, built atop Genesis 9:7), or (b) escapist colonialism (but only if travel is cheap and compatible biospheres are abundant). In third place we probably get pyramid schemes (eg. Neptune's Brood by some guy called Stross: prior art for that one existed in the shape of colonial pyramid schemes, eg. the Darien Scheme which bankrupted Scotland, or the South Sea Bubble, which nearly bankrupted the British government a generation later). Then a long way down the list we get to trade in Veblen Goods, and maybe—if interstellar transport is very cheap—recreation. What the latter two items have in common is that they're status signifiers—the wealthy have been having yachting adventures while the peasants labor on their estates to pay for them for a very long time, and as for Veblen Goods, Faberge eggs are pretty obvious. So we have status as a driver for space opera: a side-effect of hierarchical social structures where the elite seek to maintain their status by signaling their affluence in various ways.

Did I mention hierarchical social structures and capitalism? The thing about capitalism is that it's a totalizing ideology, like the divine right of kings, or religious fundamentalism. It seeks converts, it refuses to be gainsaid, and it confers a competitive advantage on cultures that adopt it (as opposed to those that reject it). Yet, as Ursula le Guin said, "We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings..."

Space opera embraces the romanticist outlook. This is inherently problematic, for it is capable of spawning totalitarian nightmares. To understand this point, I dare you to read Marinetti's Futurist Manifesto from 1909 and not recognize it both as a masterpiece of romantic rhetoric and as one of the founding texts of Fascism—very specifically the Italian Fascist movement (Nazism and Spanish clerico-fascism were later tumors on the rancid politics of violence and misogyny that Marinetti unleashed).

It's not possible to examine space opera, or planetary romance, and not acknowledge the pernicious fascistic imagery in both subgenres. Michael Moorcock wrote a magisterial essay about this nexus in the wake of Star Wars (the first movie): I strongly recommend reading his Starship Stormtroopers before pressing on if you're not already familiar with it.

Pace Le Guin, it is possible to write space opera that doesn't pander to fascism directly, as the late Iain M. Banks demonstrated. But even in his magisterial Culture series the pustules of fascism can easily be seen on the faces of the Culture's adversaries: from the Idiran imperialists to the Empire of Azad, perhaps most clearly in the character of the Affront, it takes a bad dose of fascism to introduce the romanticist element necessary for space opera to be perpetrated. Otherwise you're left with something like Inversions, which is a Culture novel with merely homeopathic traces of space opera remaining. Incidentally I make no apologies for assuming a familiar with the Culture novels on the part of the reader: if you haven't read it already, you're missing out, because it's the nearest thing I've seen to a refutation of the core conceit of might-makes-right inherent in the fascist strain of space opera. Iain wrote A Few Notes on the Culture in 1993 to explain what he was about: in particular, I was struck by this summary: The Culture, in its history and its on-going form, is an expression of the idea that the nature of space itself determines the type of civilisations which will thrive there. ... Essentially, the contention is that our currently dominant power systems cannot long survive in space; beyond a certain technological level a degree of anarchy is arguably inevitable and anyway preferable.

Totalizing ideologies like capitalism or Christian Nationalism aren't immutable, and opposition is possible. They rely on a perception of inescapability on the part of their subjects, and space opera should be the ideal fictional vehicle for escapism from such certainties: if our protagonists can board a starship and flee, there is in principle no reason why they can't shed the chains of a pernicious ideological system.

Now I want to cut to a different question. What about the human-scale story?

Space opera isn't usually a genre of high conceptual merit that tries to tell us something about the world we live in. It can be, in the hands of a determined author who knows what they're doing (I'm thinking specifically of Iain Banks, of Bruce Sterling's Schismatrix, of some of Alastair Reynolds' work—notably House of Suns) but it's more often deployed as a giant shiny backdrop for human-scale drama. Fiction is generally the art of confabulating plausible lies that illuminate the human condition, but stars and galaxies exist on a very superhuman scale: if we took them seriously as a setting they'd dwarf the merely human concerns of the protagonists—the emotional cursors that traverses the story universe—into insignificance, as in the more philosophical works of Olaf Stapledon. (For a fine example, see Anvil of Stars by Greg Bear.) Most of us don't have the imaginative flexibility to conceive of time scales significantly longer than a human lifespan and vistas larger than a single planet (and even that is a recent development: I think before mass intercontinental air travel our imaginative horizons were far more constrained). So a common problem in space opera is for the scale of distances to collapse: modern authors tend to fall back on the durations of international air travel, rather than thinking in terms of age-of-sail voyages, let alone more realistic interstellar durations at slower than light speeds. (Honorable exception to that one: Alastair Reynolds, and to a lesser extent, Ursula Le Guin's Hainish Worlds stories and Ken Macleod's Engines of Light tetralogy.)

A side-effect of the romantic outlook is a demand for individual human agency—that is, that despite the vast scale of the backdrop, the protagonists have the ability to effect change, or at least to change their own circumstances. Here in the real world most of us are trapped by situational constraints: our employment system is parodied as wage slavery for a reason. Opportunities for adventure are scarce, and your chances of self-betterment are minimal. (You can found a business and spend 30 years trying to become a millionaire, most likely to end in ignominious failure, or you play the lottery, be it by explicit gambling or by speculation on the cryptocurrency markets, but the game is rigged against you from the start.) Money in large quantities, as capital, exerts a gravitational attraction and we are individually just dust particles. So space opera tends to focus on protagonists who acquire individual agency, have adventures that take them away from the quotidian grind, and let them change themselves or the worlds around them.

A classic plot skeleton for this sort of fiction is the Hero's Journey template, as popularized by Joseph Campbell and demonstrated by George Lucas in Star Wars, and it's less-familiar-to-many sibling, the Heroine's Journey: interestingly the Heroine's Journey can be seen as an explicit rejection of the frenetic diktat of Futurism even though it's compatible with space opera, as demonstrated magisterially by Lois McMaster Bujold, whose Vorkosigan series is bookended by a Heroine's Journey narrative (starting in Shards of Honor, continuing in Barrayar, finally winding up in Gentleman Jole and the Red Queen)—and which holds the singular record for most Hugo awards for a single SF series (so this isn't just my opinion). Character development lives at the heart of both these templates, and I suspect you can't have a working space opera without the scope for such changes.

To briefly hark back to the Futurist/fascist imagery inherent in space opera: the Vorkosigan series is arguably Ruritanian romantic space opera set against a recognizable 19th century central European flavoured empire. (It's no accident that space opera emerged at the end of the age of empires, the turn of the 20th century.) Our main viewpoint character, Cordelia Vorkosigan, is a woman with modern sensibilities who effects change in that society to great effect, working largely behind the scenes as a noblewoman in that setting—indeed, that's the nature of her modified Heroine's Journey arc. (Assuming, of course, that you buy either the Hero's Journey or Heroine's Journey templates, both which are heavily influenced by Jungian psychology and early-to-mid 20th century conceptions of masculine and feminine gender identity, all of which are highly problematic in my opinion.)

Ultimately, though, the romanticist aesthetic is inimical to social convention and formalism—and also to sustainability. The romantic impulse renders space opera antithetical to solarpunk. A fictional setting composed entirely of wild individualists isn't going to end up as some sort of libertarian utopia, it's going to be a cat ranch: meanwhile someone needs to stay behind and tend the home fires, someone has to mind the grain silos on that "small farming planet", someone else needs to manage the shipyard that repairs the interstellar freighter. There's a lot of implied background in space opera, a civilization with enough surplus wealth production to build and operate starships, and this implies some degree of continuity—continuity of biosphere stability (or there'll be nothing to eat), continuity of infrastructure (including education/apprenticeships, to train/socialize the starship crews), continuity of the society our adventurer-protagonists emerged from. Social structures, governance, and politics are a given in every human society, and the romantic movement emerged from a very specific context that coincided with the age of enlightenment and the industrial revolution. Our protagonists are either privileged enough to transcend the daily grind or sufficiently motivated to take a hideous gamble with their own safety. And this tells us something about the constraints within which space operatic storytelling takes place—and my work-in-progress in particular.

Any questions?