I said in the Capitalism thread that Jim Sterling prompted me to talk about a couple of topics that I've been meaning to talk about for some time, and even helped me to streamline my arguments.

This is something I've been meaning to get at, and it's something that the OP also hinted at as well. What is futuristic realism and slice of tomorrow fiction? It's supposed to be science fiction that feels like real life; as if someone in the future wrote a contemporary story and then sent it back in time to the present day. The equivalent being as if I, a technophilic Millennial futurist, kept a journal and maybe even tried attaching narrative to some of these journal entries until I've effectively created creative non-fiction— and then I sent that journal back in time to 1966.

Jim Sterling certainly helped me to get at what it is I've been trying to say, though he talks about video games.

TL;DR I noticed that science fiction seems to have an absolutely terrible time at telling stories that don't involve someone picking up a weapon or where the stakes don't involve someone dying. In the cases where guns aren't involved, it's probably going to be a romance. Futuristic realism isn't tied to any of these.

Now for the long unreadable part:

I understand why. It's really the same deal with fantasy, after all— we experience these stories for the escapism they offer, and the easiest way to achieve escapism is with a (relatively) simple story— there's good and there's evil, and they fight. Or, for the more cynical, there's those who believe they're good and those who also believe they're good and those who don't know what they believe, and they fight.

All good stories involve a conflict and the resolution of that conflict because all stories involve the same thing, artsy hipster avant-garde stories where nothing happens or nonsensical stuff occurs notwithstanding. Even when you talk about real life, there's almost always a narrative that you can find. Mark Twain said real life doesn't have to make sense because real life is so damn complex, where there are trillions of stories playing out all at once. Simply having a story where absolutely nothing happens (i.e. there's no conflict or resolution) is boring, and might make for an antijoke, but ultimately doesn't amount to anything beyond making hyper-pretentious art school students think they're being deep.

With that said, it doesn't take much to craft a good story. And back on the subject of escapism, we like these stories because there's more of a front-and-center pleasure to be had. Where I'm coming from is that it always seems like we take the easy way out. The easiest way to end a conflict: kill the opposing side.

Tell me, why do we like Avatar? For all the gorgeous scenery and the action sequences. But try to think about the pop culture relevance beyond that— Avatar's one of the highest grossing films of all time, and there's virtually nothing to show for it. It made absolutely no dent on pop culture beyond a brief moment where people obsessed over 3D. No one cares about the characters; most people can't even recall who the characters were or what they were doing besides the fact some of them were blue. It was pure spectacle that left no cultural imprint. You could completely remove Avatar from history, and nothing about pop culture would have changed. But it still is one of the highest grossing films of all time, there's no denying that (if anything, it's famous because it's famous).

We like tech wank; that's why military science fiction is so prevalent, and why most Google image results for "science fiction" or "cyberpunk" bring back epic cityscapes or military hardware. That's what Avatar excelled at giving us. Whenever we think of science fiction stories, we always think of certain tropes, but beyond some of the basic ones, try to think back to the last major sci-fi film, video game, book, or short that didn't have one of the following—

Someone brandishing a weapon

A chase sequence

Fight sequence

Military tech wank

Paramilitary tech wank

Wide shots over either a city, alien planet, or space vehicle

Over-exposed mechanics or cybernetics

Romance between lead character and designated lover, usually as a result of the two working together to overcome the Big Bad and realizing they have feelings for each other

High-octane stakes, where the life of the protagonist or someone the protagonist cares about is at risk

Death of the antagonist, someone close to the protagonist, or the protagonist him/herself

Actions causing death in the first place

Bands of mooks for someone to mow down

Stakes where one side (e.g. space navy; evil megacorporation, warlord, etc.) has to suffer a total, epic defeat in order for the plot to be resolved, usually in the form of a climatic and tense battle

I'm not trying to be a creativity fascist; I'm merely attempting to define what futuristic realism and slice of tomorrow fiction aren't. Hell, I've even said that you can have a whole bunch of these things and still come off as futuristic realism. It's all about execution and perspective.

I suppose, what I'm trying to get at is that if you want to write futuristic realism and slice of tomorrow fiction, you have to ask yourself a very basic question: "Can the central plot be resolved with a gun battle without any major consequences?" Replace 'gun' with any weapon of your choice— space katana, quark bomb, giant mecha— the point remains the same. If the answer is no, you may have futuristic realism.

You can resolve just about any plot with a good shot from a Lawgiver; the key phrase is "without any major consequences". Filling a flatmate's skull with a magnetically-pressurized ionic plasma bolt because he's not happy over how many sloppy sounds you make with your "sexbot sexpot" is going to have worlds' different consequences as gunning down Locust filth in an interstellar war— unless, of course, you go deep into the psychological profile of someone who's spent their lives killing aliens and has never before contemplated why he's doing this and suddenly gains a keen interest in understanding the other side, particularly those not directly participating in the war.

It's easy to say your story's about the human condition more than it is about the science and technology, and I suppose that would make it more highbrow than a lot of other sci-fi. But futuristic realism/slice of tomorrow doesn't have to be highbrow either.

So let me use a story instead of just similes, analogies, and overbloated rules of thumb.

You have three characters: Phil, Daria, and Edward. Phil and Daria live in New York City in 2189. A war for independence has just broken out between Earth forces and Martian colonists. A Martian separatist— that would be Edward— has masterminded a terrorist attack in New York (what else is new?). What neither Daria or Phil know is their Martian penpal, Edward, is also the terrorist who masterminded the attack. This sounds like a traditional sci-fi plotline in the making. How do you make it into a traditional military sci-fi story? Simple— Phil and Daria sign up for military service, get their own mech suits, and start rolling across Cydonia where they fight communist Martian droids at the now terraformed, statue-like Face on Mars. The climax involves them facing down Edward and realizing their friendship has been put to the ultimate test as a result of a war. That's a story that's definitely character driven and engaging— but it's not necessarily "slice of tomorrow" fiction. How do you turn it into a slice of tomorrow story? You don't have to change a damn thing, except focus on where the story's set. For example, Phil and Daria, in the short period of time after the attack and before they join the military, may be utterly shellshocked by the terrorist attack. They've seen dead and injured people, and a major landmark has been destroyed. They just want a moment to be thankful for the fact they're alive. They may want to contact Edward to get his opinion on events considering he's a Martian and Martians are implicated in the attack. They're just keeping up with the news to find out more about what just happened, and they grow ever more angry as time goes on. The climax could be them actually joining the military, or maybe something else entirely. Something not involved in the military. The terrorist attack was just a background event to their daily lives— a pretty big and impactful event, but a background event nonetheless. The real drama lies elsewhere. It's drama you can't just shoot at to make it go away, either. Thus, the story's ultimately resolved well before the first mech suit ever gets to fire a shot at separatists.

Even writing that mini-blurb proved my point, because I was going to write something after "the real drama lies elsewhere". Something more specific than "it's a drama you can't just shoot at to make it go away, either." But as I typed it out, I could actually hear the groans of boredom in my head— "if this were an actual sci-fi story," I thought, "having that plotline would just evoke nothing but frustration." And what was that plotline?

Phil or Daria calling their parents. That's it! The actual conversation would follow recent events, yes, but that's the climax. When I wrote that out, I thought "That's the dumbest/gayest thing I've ever heard" because it sounded a bit like a waste. I have this nice, big universe filled with juicy potential sci-fi action— I even have a fantastic trigger that present-day readers can relate to in the form of a traumatic terrorist attack— and I spent it by having one of the lead characters calling Mommy to wish her a tearful Merry Christmas?

That doesn't sound sci-fi at all.

And that's the point! Because even though it doesn't sound like sci-fi, it still is sci-fi.