IT'S the year 2040 and Ray Hammond is getting advice from his software assistant Maria. Located in an implant just behind his left ear, Maria has a direct connection with Mr Hammond's brain. Linked with Google and other search engines, Maria is able to filter, search and speak softly to Mr Hammond, as quietly and as transparently as if she were his own thoughts. Financial service providers, banks and retailers have made it their business to connect with Maria. As a result, she is able to provide Mr Hammond with the best deals around.

In the movie Her, which was nominated for the Oscar for Best Picture this year, a middle-aged writer named Theodore Twombly installs and rapidly falls in love with an artificially intelligent operating system who christens herself Samantha. Samantha lies far beyond the faux "artificial intelligence" of Google Now or Siri: she is as fully and unambiguously conscious as any human. The film's director and writer, Spike Jonze, employs this premise for limited and prosaic ends, so the film limps along in an uncanny valley, neither believable as near-future reality nor philosophically daring enough to merit suspension of disbelief. Nonetheless, Her raises questions about how humans might relate to computers. Twombly is suffering a painful separation from his wife; can Samantha make him feel better?

In a small, dark, room off a long hallway within a sprawling complex of buildings in Silicon Valley, an array of massive flat-panel displays and video cameras track Grit Denker's every move. Denker, a senior computer scientist at the nonprofit R&D institute SRI, is showing off Bright, an intelligent assistant that could someday know what information you need before you even ask. Initially, Bright is meant to cut down on the cognitive overload faced by workers in high-stress, data-intensive jobs like emergency response and network security. Bright may, for instance, aid network administrators in trying to stop the spread of a fast-moving virus by quickly providing crucial infection information, or help 911 operators send the right kind of assistance to the scene of an accident. But like many other technologies developed at SRI, such as the digital personal assistant Siri (now owned by Apple), Bright could eventually trickle down to laptops and smartphones.

To shush the music, he simply holds a finger up to his lips. And when he gets up from the couch and leaves the room, his TV screen pauses automatically. Banjara is a cofounder of PredictGaze, a startup that combines gaze detection, gesture recognition, and facial-feature recognition to create more natural ways to control everything from your TV to your car. While many people are just getting their hands on their first touch-screen gadget, PredictGaze is one of a slew of companies betting that touch-free controls will be the next big thing. With front-facing cameras being embedded in all sorts of gadgets, it's not hard to imagine.

If Algirdas Budrys–who signed his work "Algis Budrys" and answered to "Ajay" among the regular Americans with whom he lived–maintained an apprehensive watchfulness toward much of the human race, it wasn't without justification. To start with, as the small son of Lithuania's consul general in Königsberg, East Prussia, he had seen Adolf Hitler pass in full Nazi pomp, while the citizens of the city where Immanuel Kant lay buried whipped themselves into such frenzies of admiration that they soiled themselves and defecated in public. More than seven decades later, dying in a Chicago suburb, Budrys still remembered what he had seen from the second-story window of his parents' apartment on that spring day in 1936. He told me, "After the Hitlerjugend walked through, Hitler came by in an open black Mercedes with his arm propped up. I'm sure he had an iron bar up his sleeve, because he couldn't have kept his arm that particular way for so long otherwise."

This article appears in the March/April 2007 issue of Technology Review. Last year, Eric Miller, an MIT-affiliated computer scientist, stood on a beach in southern France, watching the sun set, studying a document he'd printed earlier that afternoon. A March rain had begun to fall, and the ink was beginning to smear. Five years before, he'd agreed to lead a diverse group of researchers working on a project called the Semantic Web, which seeks to give computers the ability–the seeming intelligence–to understand content on the World Wide Web. At the time, he'd made a list of goals, a copy of which he now held in his hand. If he'd achieved those goals, his part of the job was done. Taking stock on the beach, he crossed off items one by one. The Semantic Web initiative's basic standards were in place; big companies were involved; startups were merging or being purchased; analysts and national and international newspapers, not just technical publications, were writing about the project. Only a single item remained: taking the technology mainstream.

Hollywood has always been interested in science--and has employed consultants to get it right throughout most of its history. It's a relationship, though, that has been controversial at times, and in this article we look at how technical advisors resolve the tension between accurate science and dramatic storytelling. As an investigator and science planning engineer at NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, Calif., Kevin Grazier, Ph.D., spends a lot of time with his head in the stars. Most days, he's concerned with the Cassini/Huygens mission to Saturn and Titan. But every now and then he wrestles with the challenges of a more far-out world: "Battlestar Galactica"--a contemporary remake of the classic 1979 television show.

IT USED to be that you would go into a dark tent where an old woman would gaze into a ball and tell you about the dark handsome stranger in your future. In the 21st century, it seems, the tent is a rather eccentrically decorated office in the suburbs of Boston; the old woman, a professorial chap in a suit; and the handsome stranger, a network of hyper-intelligent computers that will take over the world. It is hard not to think Arnold Schwarzenegger while talking to futurist Ray Kurzweil. This is not because he looks like Arnie (he is pretty much the physical opposite), but because he keeps saying things that sound like the plot of the movie Terminator. Nanobots, self-aware computers and human cyborgs litter his conversations.

He scrutinized maps and a detailed timetable. He even deployed a secret weapon: artificial-intelligence research to chart a course through death-defying drops, torrents of water and fiery heat. And when this adventurer clambered out of a floating log last year, he had reached his holy grail: visiting -- in a single day -- each of the 41 operating rides, attractions and shows at the Everest of theme parks, Walt Disney World's Magic Kingdom. "It was a challenge, and I loved the idea," said Vosburgh, 45, an information technology manager for Dell Computer Co. in Austin, Texas. "There are a lot of things at Disney World that I had not done. Why would I go on teacups when there are mountains to ride? This way I was forced to try everything."

Within a decade cars could start driving themselves on highways and in less than 25 years automakers may be producing vehicles "smart" enough to chauffeur passengers through city streets, Stanford computer scientist Sebastian Thrun predicted Saturday in San Francisco. Thrun, who led the winning team in a robotic car race sponsored by the Pentagon in 2005, was one of four experts who spoke about the current and future state of robotics at the annual meeting of the American Association for the Advancement of Science. The association today wraps up a five-day event that attracted researchers from 60 countries to explore many fields including robotics. The term "robot" was coined in the 1920s when Czech playwright Karel Capek used the word "robota" -- relentless work or drudgery in his own tongue -- to describe a factory of mechanical creatures that eventually revolt. Deceased science fiction author Isaac Asimov popularized robots in the 1950s. The 1977 "Star Wars" movie made heroes of C-3PO and R2-D2.