Philip Reeve’s Mortal Engines takes place in a far-future world where humanity destroyed civilization as it currently existed in a conflict known as the Sixty Minute War, then developed new technology from scratch in the centuries after the war. Although the future London is an engineering marvel—a Traction City that can travel at speeds of 100 miles per hour—the technology in the story also has a dark side. Crome, the Lord Mayor of London, wants to get his hands on MEDUSA, a powerful weapon from the past that can level cities like an atom bomb. As leader of the city’s Engineering Guild, Crome rarely considers the moral implications of technology, using London’s superior size to gobble up smaller towns and having his Engineers research how to make zombified super-soldiers called Stalkers that will eventually terrorize London’s own residents.
Not all technology in the book is evil. Miss Fang, for instance, escapes slavery by using her ingenuity to improvise an airship from materials she scavenges. The defensive Shield-Wall also helps protect people in the Anti-Traction League from the aggression of Traction Cities like London. But in general, more advanced technology leads to deadlier warfare. The book ends with Crome attempting to use MEDUSA against the Shield-Wall but accidentally destroying all of London in the process, showing how the more powerful technology gets, the costlier a glitch can be. While Mortal Engines doesn’t demonize all technology, it does portray how technological “advancement” can make people’s lives worse, increasing levels of violence and raising the dangers associated with inevitable malfunctions.
Related Themes from Other Texts
Dangers of Technology ThemeTracker
Dangers of Technology Quotes in Mortal Engines
It was a dark, blustery afternoon in spring, and the city of London was chasing a small mining town across the dried-out bed of the old North Sea.
“Mr Shrike!” says Crome, sounding almost cheery. “How are we today? I hope you were not asleep?”
“I DO NOT SLEEP,” replies a voice from the darkness. It is a horrible voice, sharp as the squeal of rusty cogs.
“I WORK FOR THE LORD MAYOR OF LONDON NOW,” said Shrike. “HE HAS SENT ME TO KILL YOU.”
Tom whimpered again. Hester gave a brittle little laugh. “But ... you won’t do it, will you, Shrike? You wouldn’t kill me?”
“YES,” said Shrike flatly, still staring down at her.
“We don’t stand a chance against Shrike in the air,” she explained. “Hopefully on the ground I can outwit him.”
“Nor will we have to go chasing after scraps like Salthook,” Crome continued. “In another week London will be within range of Batmunkh Gompa, the Shield-Wall. For a thousand years the Anti-Traction League has cowered behind it, holding out against the tide of history. MEDUSA will destroy it at a single stroke.”
“No!” Katherine heard herself say. “Oh, no, no, no!” She started to run across the garden, staring towards the lightning-flecked cloud which wreathed the wreckage of the conurbation. From Circle Park and all the observation platforms came the sound of wordless voices, and she thought at first that they were crying out in horror, the way she wanted to—but no; they were cheering, cheering, cheering.
He said, “You must understand, Kate, I did it for you...”
“So, Apprentice Melliphant, I gather you have something to tell us?”
Hester was stumbling backwards, lifting her bound hands to ward off Father’s blow, and Katherine flung herself between them so that suddenly it was she who was in his path, and his sword slid easily through her and she felt the hilt jar hard against her ribs.
He gently moves a stray strand which has blown into her mouth, and holds her close, and waits—and the storm-light breaks over them and they are a knot of fire, a rush of blazing gas, and gone: the shadows of their bones scattering into the brilliant sky.
“But we’re alive, and together, and we’re going to be all right.”
