Forster’s forecast

For those of us who have not seen the Academy-awarded Netflix film, My Octopus Teacher, Philip Lymbery’s article (Scotsman, 11 October) was a revelation.

It remains difficult, however, for anyone uninfluenced by the film's fascinating account to see the octopus as anything other than a sinister monster of the deep – unless, of course, we are regarding it merely as a tapas item.

But alongside Philip Lymbery's eulogy yp the octopus we should consider your report of September 7: "Scientists develop stretchy robot worms to get into those tight spots". These operate autonomously and are capable of a form of proprioception, by which animals sense their position.

I would direct readers' attention to EM Forster's short story, The Machine Stops, written in 1909. Perhaps because we are now so familiar with isolation from other humans and prefer in many instances to communicate by video link or perhaps because its author achieved more fame with his fulllength novel set in the days of the British Raj, we are not impressed by Forster's extraordinary prescience. Even Vashti's thousands of "friends" whom she has never met fail to surprise.

What does linger in the mind is a vision of the Machine's mending apparatus, with its terrifying autonomous white worms whose target is to seek and capture any object not created by the Machine.

Forster reveals the basis upon which he has built his prognosis: the many-cultured polymaths of the 19th century were to be replaced by "experts", each a master in his own field, who have extended their competence exponenpublic until no-one but the Machine itself understands its functions, giving it sole exercise of power.

It has become God.

KATIE ROLLS Jedburgh, Scottish Borders