The Electric State: Kid Cosmo - Journey Through Dystopian Futures

To truly appreciate The Electric State and the subsequent narratives, one must first understand the mind behind its foundational aesthetic: Simon Stålenhag. Born in 1984 in Sweden, Stålenhag is a polymath – an artist, musician, and designer whose work transcends traditional boundaries. He rose to international prominence through his distinctive digital paintings, which effortlessly blend mundane, often melancholic, Scandinavian or American landscapes with colossal, anachronistic machinery. Imagine a rusty, derelict robot hunched in a snowy field, or massive, glowing structures looming over a quiet suburban street; these are the indelible images that define Stålenhag's signature "retro-futuristic" style. Stålenhag's artistic process is as unique as his output. He often begins with pre-existing photographs, transforming them into digital paintings that meticulously mimic the tactile quality of oil on canvas, right down to the "handwriting" of brushstrokes. This meticulous approach results in hyper-realistic yet surreal imagery that feels simultaneously familiar and profoundly alien. His palette typically leans towards muted tones, cool blues, and earthy browns, evoking a pervasive sense of melancholy and contemplation. More than just visually stunning, Stålenhag's art is deeply thematic. His narratives frequently explore the collision of advanced technology with the ordinary, the unsettling beauty of decay, and the quiet isolation of societies grappling with their own technological progress or decline. He presents alternate histories, worlds where the wonders of science fiction have long since become part of the everyday, only to then crumble into disrepair, leaving behind enigmatic relics. This creates a powerful sense of nostalgia for a future that never was, a longing for a bygone era tinged with both wonder and existential dread. For many, myself included, encountering a Stålenhag piece is like unearthing a forgotten memory, a fleeting glimpse into a past that feels almost real, a sensation that lingers long after the image fades from view. It’s this profound emotional resonance, coupled with his unparalleled visual storytelling, that has cemented Stålenhag's influence on the sci-fi genre and beyond. His ability to tell complex stories through static images, inviting viewers to fill in the gaps with their own imaginations, is a testament to his unique artistry.

In 2018, Simon Stålenhag released The Electric State, a narrative art book that expanded upon his signature themes and aesthetic. Set in an alternate, dystopian 1997 America, the graphic novel plunges readers into a landscape irrevocably scarred by a devastating civil war fought primarily with massive, remote-controlled drones. This isn't a future where robots have gained sentience and rebelled, as one might find in more conventional sci-fi; instead, it's a conflict where human factions wielded advanced technology against each other, leaving behind colossal, decaying mechanical husks scattered across the country. The core narrative follows Michelle, a runaway teenage girl, and her yellow toy robot, Skip, as they journey westward through this desolate, post-war America. Their destination is the edge of the continent, a place of theoretical safety as the remnants of civilization seem to unravel at an accelerating pace around them. Stålenhag's illustrations are breathtakingly beautiful yet deeply unsettling, portraying vast, empty landscapes littered with the detritus of a high-tech consumerist society addicted to a virtual-reality system known as the "neurocaster." The graphic novel explores a multitude of profound themes that resonate deeply with contemporary anxieties. Digital dependency and addiction are central, with widespread use of the Sentre Stimulus Mode 6 neurocaster leaving many users in a state of intellectual zombification, physically present but mentally lost in a virtual world. This serves as a potent commentary on the isolating effects of unchecked technological advancement, a cautionary tale that feels increasingly relevant in our screen-saturated lives. It critiques the military-industrial complex, showing how technology developed for conflict can be repurposed for mass commercial use, often with devastating societal consequences. Beyond technology, The Electric State delves into themes of familial separation, the yearning for connection in a broken world, and the impact of extremist ideologies. Stålenhag masterfully blends the mundane reality of everyday relationships with the surreal presence of science fiction imagery, creating a story that is as emotionally rich as it is visually striking. The book offers a "somber portrait of America in collapse," drawing comparisons to the desolate, character-driven journeys found in works like The Last of Us. Its power lies in its ability to evoke a profound sense of loss and nostalgia, inviting readers to immerse themselves in a world that feels both hauntingly familiar and starkly alien. It’s a quiet, sad adventure that relies on its evocative imagery and sparse narrative to deliver a truly unique dystopian experience.

Given the unique visual and thematic depth of Stålenhag's work, a film adaptation of The Electric State was almost inevitable. Directed by the acclaimed Russo brothers (known for their work on the Marvel Cinematic Universe), the Netflix film, released on March 14, 2025, aimed to translate Stålenhag's intricate vision to the screen. Starring Millie Bobby Brown as Michelle, Chris Pratt as Keats, and featuring a high-profile cast, the film certainly had the ambition and the budget, reportedly $320 million, to bring this dystopian world to life. The film, however, takes a "loosely based" approach to its source material, diverging significantly in plot and key thematic elements. While the book centers on a drone civil war between human factions, the Netflix adaptation introduces a clear human-versus-robot conflict, with autonomous machines confined to an "exclusion zone" after a war in the 1980s. This shift fundamentally alters the allegories and critiques present in the original novel, turning it into a more conventional "man vs. machine" narrative. The film's plot follows Michelle, an orphaned teenager, who discovers that her presumed-dead brother, Christopher, might still be alive. She embarks on a cross-country journey through a transformed American landscape, accompanied by a robot named Cosmo, to find him. Along the way, she encounters a smuggler, Keats, and his robot sidekick. The narrative introduces a more explicit quest and adventure structure, a departure from the more contemplative and atmospheric journey of the graphic novel. Visually, the film strives to capture Stålenhag's distinctive retro-futuristic aesthetic. Utilizing advanced motion-capture technology and visual effects, the filmmakers recreated the intricate robotic and technological designs, aiming for a realistic portrayal of the decaying world. Reports indicated that the CGI achieved a surprising level of realism, which was a commendable feat given the source material's unique visual language. Despite its massive budget and efforts in visual fidelity, the film's reception has been largely mixed to negative. Critics and fans of the original book often pointed to the significant deviations from the source material's plot and tone as major weaknesses. Many felt that the film "missed the point" of Stålenhag's somber, melancholic vision, opting instead for a more action-adventure oriented, "quirky sci-fi adventure for kids." This transformation, while potentially expanding the audience, diluted the graphic novel's raw, unsettling exploration of societal decay and digital addiction. The film's shift to a robot-versus-human conflict, rather than the book's human-versus-human drone warfare, was particularly criticized for being a "generic trope" that was not present in the original.

One of the most notable and central new elements introduced in the Netflix film, and indeed highlighted in the keywords "the electric state: kid cosmo," is the concept of "Kid Cosmo." It’s crucial to understand that "Kid Cosmo" is not a character or a concept from Simon Stålenhag’s original graphic novel. Instead, it is a fictional 1990s children's cartoon program within the film’s universe, and the inspiration for Michelle’s primary robot companion, also named Cosmo. In the film's lore, "Kid Cosmo" was a hugely popular cartoon, especially among children, and Michelle and her brother Christopher were avid fans. This fictional program serves as a clever world-building device, helping to ground the film’s alternate 1990s reality in elements that feel tangibly nostalgic and relatable. The robot character, Cosmo, with his bizarrely proportioned body, is designed to resemble the protagonist of this cartoon. This design choice, along with his initially limited speech to "catchphrases" from the show, imbues Cosmo with a unique blend of childlike innocence and mystery. Cosmo's role in the film is pivotal. He is not merely a toy robot; he becomes Michelle's loyal companion on her desperate journey to find Christopher. Crucially, it's revealed that Christopher, whose mind was linked to an external network by Dr. Amethyst, was able to inhabit Cosmo's shell to reach Michelle. This imbues the "Kid Cosmo" robot with deep emotional significance, as he embodies Michelle's lost brother, providing a tangible link to her past and a source of hope for their reunion. The filmmakers intentionally captured the "warm, fuzzy, and cute look" of the cartoon character in Cosmo's real-life robot form, allowing for a greater depth of emotional exploration as his character develops. The unique dynamic between Michelle and Cosmo, fueled by their shared childhood connection to the "Kid Cosmo" cartoon, becomes a central emotional anchor for the film. Adding another dimension to this new element, Netflix Games also released The Electric State: Kid Cosmo, a mobile game that functions as a narrative-driven prequel to the film. This game, released on March 18, 2025, delves into Michelle and Christopher's childhood, depicting them playing a video game based on "Kid Cosmo" on a fictional handheld console called a Sensoft. This transmedia approach further expands the "Kid Cosmo" lore, offering players a unique perspective on the film's backstory and the world before the human-robot war intensified. It explores how a seemingly innocent childhood fascination can be intertwined with the genesis of a dystopian future, offering subtle commentary on how entertainment and technology shape perceptions even before societal collapse. The integration of "Kid Cosmo" into The Electric State cinematic universe, therefore, reflects a conscious choice by the filmmakers to imbue the story with greater emotional accessibility and a different kind of nostalgia. While the original book’s melancholy stemmed from technological decay and societal disconnection, the film leverages "Kid Cosmo" to evoke a longing for lost innocence and the perversion of childhood symbols in a broken world. It's a testament to the power of transmedia storytelling to expand and reinterpret a beloved universe, even if the creative choices spark debate among purists.

Despite their narrative differences, both Simon Stålenhag's original The Electric State and its cinematic adaptation grapple with core themes that explore humanity's precarious relationship with technology and societal collapse. Understanding these shared and divergent thematic threads offers a richer appreciation of the entire Electric State phenomenon. In Stålenhag's graphic novel, the primary technological threat is the "neurocaster" – an addictive virtual reality device that effectively turns users into listless, incapacitated beings, disconnected from physical reality. This serves as a stark warning about digital dependency and the erosion of human interaction. The technology, initially developed for military drone control, exemplifies how innovation can be repurposed for insidious commercial use, leading to widespread societal decay. The book’s haunting images of people perpetually hooked into these devices, their bodies neglected while their minds are lost in simulated worlds, are powerful allegories for our increasingly digital lives. The film, while retaining the concept of virtual reality systems (like the Sentre Stimulus Mode 6), shifts the primary technological conflict to a human-robot war. Here, the robots are not mere tools but sentient beings fighting for civil rights, creating a different kind of commentary on artificial intelligence and societal discrimination. However, the underlying theme of technology's pervasive and often destructive influence remains. Even the "Kid Cosmo" robot, an embodiment of childhood innocence, becomes entangled in this larger conflict, suggesting that no aspect of life is untouched by the advancing, sometimes malevolent, march of progress. Both versions, in their own ways, portray a future where technology, rather than liberating humanity, has become a new form of enslavement or division. Central to both narratives is the profound sense of loss and the persistent human yearning for connection amidst desolation. In the graphic novel, Michelle’s journey is driven by a deep, unspoken melancholy for a world that has collapsed and the family she has lost. Her toy robot, Skip, serves as a silent, unwavering companion, a surrogate for the human connection that is increasingly scarce. The pervasive isolation is palpable, and moments of shared vulnerability are rare and precious. The film intensifies this theme by making Michelle's quest explicitly about finding her missing brother, Christopher. The "Kid Cosmo" robot, now inhabited by Christopher's consciousness, becomes the literal embodiment of this sought-after connection. The emotional stakes are heightened, as Michelle risks everything to reconnect with her sibling. This adaptation amplifies the universal human need for belonging and family, transforming the subtle yearning of the book into a more direct, driving force. The bond between Michelle and Cosmo, and by extension Christopher, becomes a powerful counterpoint to the surrounding chaos and destruction. Stålenhag's art famously imbues landscapes with character, and The Electric State is no exception. The graphic novel depicts a vast, decaying American West, littered with colossal, rusting drones and dilapidated infrastructure. This landscape is not merely a backdrop; it is an active participant in the narrative, a silent witness to humanity's decline. The haunting beauty of the desolate scenery juxtaposed with the remnants of advanced technology creates a unique atmosphere of wistful surrealism. The film faithfully attempts to translate this visual language, showcasing sweeping vistas of a transformed American landscape. While the specific details of the decay might differ (robot-human war debris versus drone civil war wreckage), the essence of a once-vibrant nation now lying in ruins is consistently portrayed. The journey across this scarred continent remains a central visual and thematic element, emphasizing the scale of the societal collapse and the physical manifestation of its consequences. It’s a road trip through a memory, both collective and personal, of what was and what could have been. Both iterations of The Electric State are steeped in a powerful retro-futuristic aesthetic. Stålenhag's original work frequently draws on 1980s and 1990s popular culture, blending futuristic elements with a palpable sense of nostalgia for a bygone era. This creates a fascinating dissonance, where advanced technology feels both anachronistic and intimately familiar. The decay of these once-futuristic elements underscores a sense of lost potential and the inevitable march of time. The film embraces this aesthetic fully, particularly with its setting in an alternate 1990s. The "Kid Cosmo" cartoon itself is a brilliant embodiment of this, evoking the Saturday morning cartoons and popular culture of that decade. The juxtaposition of this familiar 90s setting with giant robots and advanced (yet decaying) technology reinforces the retro-futuristic vibe. It invites viewers to ponder how our present might look from a future where today's innovations have become tomorrow's forgotten relics, lending a cyclical quality to technological progress and decay. It’s a poignant reminder that even the most cutting-edge inventions eventually succumb to rust and obsolescence. In essence, while the narrative vehicles may differ, the core thematic underpinnings of The Electric State – technology's profound impact, the enduring human need for connection, the desolate beauty of a fallen world, and the bittersweet embrace of retro-futurism – remain potent and compelling across both the acclaimed graphic novel and its ambitious cinematic and gaming adaptations.

The journey of The Electric State from a quiet, haunting graphic novel to a high-budget Netflix film and a mobile game prequel is a testament to the enduring power and appeal of Simon Stålenhag’s unique vision. Regardless of critical reception for the film, this transmedia expansion has undeniably propelled Stålenhag's work into the global spotlight, introducing his distinctive artistic universe to a significantly wider audience. Stålenhag's influence on contemporary sci-fi art and storytelling cannot be overstated. His ability to craft compelling narratives through evocative imagery, blending the mundane with the fantastical, has inspired a generation of artists and writers. Before The Electric State, his works like Tales from the Loop also saw adaptation into a critically acclaimed Amazon Prime series, further solidifying his position as a unique voice in speculative fiction. His art provides a template for imagining futures that are not gleaming utopias or overtly menacing dystopias, but rather melancholic, lived-in worlds where the extraordinary has become commonplace, and often, dilapidated. He makes the complex future relatable and tangible, bridging the gap between grand sci-fi concepts and the intimate human experience. The Netflix adaptation, despite its deviations and mixed reviews, serves as a crucial point of cultural expansion for The Electric State. It brings Stålenhag’s visually rich world to a medium that reaches millions, allowing viewers to experience his aesthetic in motion and with established actors. For many, the film may be their first introduction to the world of The Electric State, potentially leading them to explore the original graphic novel and Stålenhag’s broader body of work. This cross-pollination of media is vital for expanding the reach of niche, yet profoundly impactful, artistic creations. The film's ambitious budget, reportedly making it one of the most expensive films ever made, also speaks to the perceived mainstream appeal of Stålenhag's unique blend of high-concept sci-fi and nostalgic Americana. The introduction of "Kid Cosmo" through the film and its accompanying mobile game, The Electric State: Kid Cosmo, further exemplifies this transmedia strategy. While the film took creative liberties, "Kid Cosmo" itself became a new narrative touchstone, giving a more direct, emotional core to Michelle's journey and allowing for prequel storytelling within the game. This expansion into a dedicated game, exploring the characters' childhood and the "Kid Cosmo" cartoon itself, showcases a willingness to build out the universe beyond the confines of the original book's more abstract narrative. It represents a trend in modern entertainment where universes are built across multiple platforms, offering different entry points and enriched experiences for fans. The positive reception to the announcement of The Electric State: Kid Cosmo as a tie-in game suggests a public appetite for such "transmedia" projects, indicating a desire for more immersive and interconnected storytelling experiences. In a year like 2025, where discussions around AI, automation, and the impact of digital lives are more prominent than ever, the themes explored in The Electric State – technological decay, digital addiction, and societal disconnection – resonate profoundly. Both the graphic novel and its adaptations serve as cautionary tales and reflective mirrors, prompting audiences to consider the path of technological progress and its potential consequences. They offer a unique lens through which to examine our own anxieties about the future, our relationship with the machines we create, and the enduring human need for connection in an increasingly complex world. The Electric State, in all its forms, stands as a significant contribution to the dystopian canon, continually prompting us to ponder what happens when the dreams of tomorrow become the ruins of yesterday.

The universe of The Electric State: Kid Cosmo is a compelling narrative tapestry woven from the threads of Simon Stålenhag's original artistic genius and the expansive vision of its cinematic and gaming adaptations. Stålenhag’s The Electric State graphic novel remains a masterful work of retro-futuristic art, a poignant exploration of loss, technology, and societal decay set against a hauntingly beautiful American landscape. Its subtle yet profound commentary on digital dependency and the human cost of unchecked progress solidified its place as a unique piece of speculative fiction. The 2025 Netflix film, while diverging significantly in its narrative and introducing the "Kid Cosmo" element, has broadened the reach of Stålenhag’s universe, bringing his distinctive aesthetic to a global audience. The "Kid Cosmo" cartoon and the robot companion of the same name serve as a clever narrative device, providing a deeply personal and nostalgic anchor for the film’s more action-oriented plot, connecting Michelle’s quest to her lost brother and her childhood innocence. Furthermore, the The Electric State: Kid Cosmo mobile game adds another layer to this expanding universe, allowing fans to delve into the prequel story and truly immerse themselves in the origins of the world. In an era defined by rapid technological advancement and increasing digital immersion, The Electric State continues to hold a mirror to our collective anxieties and aspirations. Whether experienced through the melancholic stillness of Stålenhag's pages or the dynamic storytelling of its screen adaptations, this saga – now inextricably linked with "Kid Cosmo" – offers a powerful reminder of the delicate balance between innovation and humanity, and the enduring search for meaning in a world always on the brink of transformation. It’s a journey that resonates, not just as sci-fi, but as a reflection of the human condition itself.