What is the first sci-fi story (if any) to describe how cannibalism would look in a futuristic society?

  • 6
    The Time Machine has to be up there.
    – Adamant
    Oct 3, 2016 at 22:52
  • Can we give answers where the cannibalism would be a spoiler for the story?
    – GEdgar
    Oct 4, 2016 at 1:07
  • 1
    @GEdgar That's fine with me.
    – Geremia
    Oct 4, 2016 at 2:26
  • 1
    The Time Machine gets my vote. The Food of the Gods by Arthur C. Clarke deserves a nod. Mar 3, 2023 at 1:42
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    @releseabe - In the original Time Machine, there's no suggestion that there is not reproductive isolation between eloi, humans, and morlocks, so they could be viewed as different species. However, the time period is only about 800,000 years into the future and both groups share a common ancestor. There's also evidence that archaic human "species" (more properly, subspecies) that existed more than 800,000 years ago were interfertile with anatomically modern humans. With that in mind, I am willing to consider them close enough—if not actually the same species—to call it cannibalism.
    – Adamant
    Mar 3, 2023 at 4:08

2 Answers 2


Cannibalism was perhaps touched upon in a futuristic setting for the first time in The Time Machine published in 1895 written by H.G Wells

In Chapter 7 -

The Time Traveller barely sleeps that night, and in the morning he and Weena traverse the wood. While they walk he reflects on what has led the Morlocks to eat the Eloi, who are their evolutionary relatives. He surmises that at a certain point the Morlocks ran out of their food source and they were forced to turn to the Eloi. Meanwhile they must have lost, over the years, the cultural taboo against cannibalism. The Time Traveller remarks that this taboo is not a deep-rooted instinct in humans of his own era, but a mere cultural prejudice. Still, in order to stave off his horror, the Time Traveller tries to think about the cannibalism as retribution for the Eloi’s selfishness, a natural punishment for the thousands of generations of labor exploitation. Despite this effort, the Time Traveller cannot help but sympathize with the Eloi, as they have better preserved the human form, which, of course, is the Time Traveller’s own

Analysis by LitCharts

The Time Traveller often tries to parse what is deeply rooted in human nature and what is simply cultural conditioning. He wonders about fear, first thinking it has disappeared and then realizing that it is still innate. He wonders similarly about kindness, which has endured in one species but not the other. The taboo against cannibalism is a powerful one in the Time Traveller’s era—one that might even seem to be a defining trait of contemporary humans—but even that proves not to be inherent to the species. Perhaps the lesson here is that the human qualities that endure are simply those that are evolutionarily advantageous, and it is not useful to cling to traits like intelligence and strength as being definitive of human beings, since they could disappear if the circumstances were right. Despite his attempt to view evolutionary changes as neutral facts, the Time Traveller still finds himself sympathetic to the species that is more recognizably human.

As per Wikipedia -

By the year AD 802,701, humanity has evolved into two separate species: the Eloi and the Morlocks. The Eloi live a banal life of ease on the surface of the Earth while the Morlocks live underground, tending machinery and providing food, clothing, and inventory for the Eloi.

Since you asked for a futuristic setting, its perhaps according to evolution that humans in the future wont be the same and will evolve in something else. It is to be noted though H.G Wells initial motive here was to draw commentary on the rich upper class and the poor lower class.


The short story The Food of the Gods (1964) by Arthur C. Clarke:

It’s only fair to warn you, Mr. Chairman, that much of my evidence will be highly nauseating; it involves aspects of human nature that are very seldom discussed in public, and certainly not before a congressional committee. But I am afraid that they have to be faced, there are times when the veil of hypocrisy has to be ripped away, and this is one them.

You and I, gentlemen, have descended from a long line of carnivores. I see from you expressions that most of you don’t recognize the term. Well, that’s not surprising—it comes from a language that has been obsolete for two thousand years. Perhaps I had better avoid euphemisms and be brutally frank, even if I have to use words that are never heard in polite society. I apologize in advance to anyone I may offend.

Until a few centuries ago, the favorite food of almost all men was meat-the flesh of once living animals. I’m not trying to turn your stomachs; this is a simple statement of fact, which you can check in any history book…

Why, certainly, Mr. Chairman, I’m quite prepared to wait until Senator Irving feels better. We professionals sometimes forget how laymen may react to statements like that. At the same time, I must warn the committee that there is very much worse to come. If any of you gentlemen are at all squeamish, I suggest you follow the senator before it’s to late…

Well, if I may continue. Until modern times, all food fell into two categories. Most of it was produced from plants-cereals, fruits, plankton, algae and other forms of vegetation. It’s hard for us to realize that the vast majority of our ancestors were farmers, winning food from the land or sea by primitive and often back-breaking techniques; but that is the truth.

The second type of food, if I may return to this unpleasant subject, was meat, produced from a relatively small number of animals. You may be familiar with some of them-cows, pigs, sheep, whales. Most people—I am sorry to stress this, but the fact is beyond dispute—preferred meat to any other food, though only the wealthiest were able to indulge this appetite. To most of mankind, meat was a rare and occasional delicacy in a diet that was more than ninety-percent vegetable.

If we look at the matter calmly and dispassionately—as I hope Senator Irving is now in a position to do—we can see that meat was bound to be rare and expensive, for its production is an extremely inefficient process. To make a kilo of meat, the animal concerned had to eat at least ten kilo’s of vegetable food—very often food that could have been consumed directly by human beings. Quite apart from any consideration of aesthetics, this state of affairs could not be tolerated after the population explosion of the twentieth century. Every man who ate meat was condemning ten or more of his fellow humans to starvation…

Luckily for all of us, the biochemists solved the problem; as you may know, the answer was one of the countless byproducts of space research. All food—animal or vegetable—is built up from a very few common elements. Carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, traces of sulphur and phosphorus—the half-dozen elements, and a few others, combine in an almost infinite variety of ways to make up every food that man has ever eaten or will ever eat. Faced with the problem of colonizing the moon and planets, the biochemists of the twenty-first century discovered how to synthesize and desired food from the basic raw materials of water, air and rock. It was the greatest, and perhaps the most important, achievement in the history of science. But we should not feel too proud of it. The vegetable kingdom had beaten us by a billion years.

The chemists could now synthesize and conceivable food, whether it had counterparts in nature or not. Needles to say, there were mistakes—even disasters. Industrial empires rose and crashed; the switch from agriculture and animal husbandry to the giant automatic processing plants and omniverters of today was often a painful one. The danger of starvation has been banished forever, and we have a richness and variety of food that no other age has ever known.

In addition, of course, there was a moral gain. We no longer murdered millions of living creatures, and such revolting institutions as the slaughter house and the butcher shop have vanished from the face of the earth. It seems incredible to us that even our ancestors, coarse and brutal though they were, could ever have tolerated such obscenities.

And yet it is impossible to make a clean break with the past. As I have already remarked, we are carnivores; we inherit tastes and appetites that have been acquired over a million years of time. Whether we like it or not, only a few years ago some of our great-grandparents were enjoying the flesh of cattle and sheep and pigs—when they could get it. And we still enjoy it today…

Oh dear, maybe Senator Irving has better stay outside from now on. Perhaps I should not have been quite so blunt. What I meant, of course, was that many of the synthetic foods we now eat have the same formula as the old natural products; some of them, indeed, are such exact replicas the no chemical or other test could reveal any difference. This situation is logical and inevitable; we manufactures simply took the most popular pre-synthetic foods as our models, and reproduced their taste and texture.

Of course, we also created new names that didn’t hint of an anatomical or zoological origin, so that no one would be reminded of the facts of life. When you go into a restaurant, most of the words you’ll find on the menu have been invented since the beginning of the twenty-first century, or else adapted from French originals that few people would recognize. If you ever want to find your threshold of tolerance, you can try an interesting but highly unpleasant experiment. The classified section of the Library of Congress has a large number of menus from famous restaurants—yes, and white house banquets—going back for five hundred years. They have a crude, dissecting-room frankness that makes them almost unreadable. I cannot think of anything that reveals more vividly the gulf between us and our ancestors only a few generations ago…

Yes, Mr. Chairman—I am coming to the point; all this is highly relevant, however disagreeable it may be. I am not trying to spoil your appetites; I am merely laying the groundwork for the charge I wish to bring against my competitor, Triplanetary Food Corporation. Unless you understand this background, you may think that this is a frivolous complaint inspired by the admittedly serious losses my firm has sustained since Ambrosia Plus has come onto the market.

New foods, gentlemen, are invented every week. It is hard to keep track of them. They come and go like women’s fashions, and only one in a thousand become a permanent addition to the menu. It is extremely rare for one to hit the public fancy overnight, and I freely admit that the Ambrosia Plus line of dishes has been the greatest success in the entire history of food manufacture. You all know the position; everything else has been swept of the market.

Naturally, we were forced to accept the challenge. The biochemists of my organization are as good as any in the solar system, and they promptly got to work on Ambrosia Plus. I am not giving away any trade secrets when I tell you that we have tapes of practically every food, natural or synthetic, that has ever been eaten by mankind—right back to exotic items that you’ve never heard of, like fried squid, locusts in honey, peacock’s tongues, Venusian polypod…. Our enormous library of flavors and textures is our basic stock in trade, as it is with all firms in the business. From it we can select and mix items in any conceivable combination; and usually we can duplicate, without to much trouble, any product that our competitors put out.

But Ambrosia Plus had us baffled for quite some time. Its protein-fat breakdown classified it as straightforward meat. Without too many complications-yet we couldn’t match it exactly. It was the first time my chemists had failed; not one them could explain just what gave the stuff its extraordinary appeal—which, as we all know, makes every other food seem insipid by comparison. As well it might…but I am getting ahead of myself.

Very shortly, Mr. Chairman, the president of Triplanetary Foods will be appearing before you-rather reluctantly, I’m sure. He will tell you that Ambrosia Plus is synthesized from air, water, limestone, sulphur, phosphorus, and the rest. That will be perfectly true, but it will be the least important part of the story. For we have now discovered his secret—which, like most secrets, is a very simple once you know it.

I really must congratulate my competitor. He has at last made available unlimited quantities of what is, from the nature of things, the ideal food for mankind. Until now, it has been in extreme short supply and therefore all the more relished by the few connoisseurs who could obtain it. Without exception, they have sworn that nothing else can remotely compare with it.

Yes, Triplanetary’s chemists have done a superb technical job. Now you have to resolve the moral and philosophical issues. When I begin my evidence, I used the archaic word “carnivore.” Now I must introduce you to another: I’ll spell it out for the first time: C-A-N-N-I-B-A-L….

🎩 tip: Dosco Jones


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