Prophet or futurist? 10 technologies Verne predicted in the 19th century

Image: Albert Robida, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Before science fiction was even a thing, Jules Verne was already inventing the future in his novels. He filled his adventures with strange contraptions, daring machines, and ideas that seemed unlikely in the 19th century. The twist? So many of those daydreams turned into everyday reality. From submarines gliding beneath the seas to rockets racing skyward, Verne’s stories can be read less as fantasy and more as a premonition of what was to come. What follows are ten of his most remarkable visions, proof of how closely imagination can become reality.

Image: Victor Serban

In the 19th century, people regarded Verne’s stories as mere fantasy adventures. But flip through them today, and they feel like you are reading an early NASA mission report. In From the Earth to the Moon (1865) and its sequel Around the Moon (1869), the French writer imagines three daring men being shot into space from Florida, traveling inside a metal capsule. After a five-day trip to lunar orbit, the projectile lands safely in the ocean.

Although it was probably a crazy and far-fetched idea at the time, a century later, Apollo astronauts followed nearly the same playbook, proving that Verne’s "make-believe" wasn’t so impossible after all.

Image: Lena Koval

Jules Verne was probably one of the first to dream of machines fueled by water instead of coal or oil. In his vision, the humble liquid would be split into hydrogen and oxygen, releasing its hidden energy to drive engines of the future. For readers in the 19th century, this idea felt both magical and oddly precise, as if Verne had peeked into tomorrow’s laboratories. Today, hydrogen power is still experimental, yet it remains one of science’s most promising—and elusive—goals, holding the potential for clean energy on a grand scale.

Image: David Rodrigo

Rising from the earth like shimmering glass mountains, Jules Verne imagined ever-shining cities. He pictured towers of steel and glass that didn’t go dark at sunset but glowed brilliantly through the night, powered by the then-new magic of electricity. Inside, elevators would whisk people effortlessly upward, transforming the way cities could be built. Back then, most buildings barely climbed ten stories, and the idea of infinite skylines was almost otherworldly. Today, it’s exactly what we see through the window in any modern city.

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Imagine reading about a ship that could submerge into the waves and roam the oceans like a sea creature long before such a thing was possible. That’s exactly what Jules Verne wrote about in Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea (1870). His Nautilus was a 230-foot machine, armed with a library of 12,000 books and capable of sinking any ship.

Although Verne didn’t actually invent submarines, at the time of the book’s publication, they were no more than unreliable and primitive prototypes. If anything, Verne’s fictional vessel anticipated the technology of the submarines that now explore the oceans of the real world. His invention might have been a fantasy, but it was also a glimpse into the future.

Image: Maxim Hopman

Can you imagine having to hear the news secondhand in the town square? Jules Verne probably knew that, in the future, people would need to be informed at all times. So, he invented a daily news report delivered by voice—spoken bulletins that could be piped straight into homes and even announced at public kiosks. We can only imagine what this meant for his readers in the 19th century, but we can now easily relate to the news being available whenever we want. Long before antennas or TV screens, he foresaw a world where the latest headlines could arrive instantly, without a scrap of paper.

Image: Rebecca Johnsen

Many years ago, a machine flying through the sky as high as a cathedral with the ease of a bird would have seemed improbable. But Jules Verne’s imagination could go as far as he wanted. In Robur the Conqueror (1886), he introduces the "Albatross," a fantastic flying ship that can lift straight off the ground, hover in place, and maneuver with uncanny grace. Does this description sound familiar? That’s because Verne outlined the blueprint for the helicopter decades before engineers made it real in the 20th century.

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What seemed like a futuristic gadget in 1889 now feels like part of our everyday lives. In his novel In the Year 2889, Jules Verne describes the "phonotelephote," a device that allows people not only to communicate with others who are miles away but also to see each other’s faces in real time. For 19th-century readers, the idea was dazzling, almost too magical to believe. Yet today, we hardly think twice before tapping into a video call on our phones or computers. Verne essentially predicted FaceTime and Zoom calls a full century before the first computer was even connected to the internet.

Image: Or Hakim

Many decades before the first electric cars ever rolled off an assembly line, Jules Verne was already letting his imagination race ahead. In The Mysterious Island (1874), he described wagons that needed no horses, powered instead by rechargeable batteries. To 19th-century readers, the idea of a vehicle moving smoothly on its own was unthinkable, closer to magic than mechanics. Yet Verne’s vision sounds strikingly familiar to anyone who has seen a quiet electric car glide down the highway today. What was once a dream in the pages of a novel has become a daily sight in traffic.

Image: Geoff Maredi

Poetic yet technical—that was Jules Verne’s gift. Take his vision of music made not with violins or flutes, but with machines. In his once-shelved novel Paris in the Twentieth Century (written in 1863 but not published until the 1990s), the writer imagined concerts filled with sounds produced by electrical instruments. For 19th-century readers, it probably sounded absurd. Yet a hundred years later, synthesizers and electric keyboards defined popular music, proving Verne had once again tuned in early to the future.

Image: Tim Dennert

A ship that needs no fuel, gliding through space on nothing but light—it sounds like poetry. Yet Verne imagined exactly that. He described enormous sails stretched wide, catching not the wind but the faint pressure of sunlight itself and using it to push vessels across the vast silence of space. In his day, it was a dream almost too delicate to believe, like navigating the ocean with moonbeams. But the image stuck, and now scientists and space agencies are testing real solar sails, proving that his most poetic vision wasn’t just fantasy but a glimpse of tomorrow waiting to unfold in orbit.

Decoding

Being a "treasured guest" is not a compliment. This is the hidden meaning

Have you ever heard "Code Adam" while shopping for groceries at Walmart? Or maybe you’ve heard how "Dr. Firestone" was being paged during a routine hospital visit. They sound like harmless announcements. But behind these ordinary words are secret codes staff use to signal emergencies without causing panic. From hospitals and supermarkets to airports and Disney Parks, these phrases quietly warn employees that something is happening. You hope you never hear them, but if you do, it helps to know exactly what they mean.

We all love getting special attention at airports or hotel desks, but if you hear the clerk call you a "treasured guest," don’t feel so flattered. You may not be as VIP as one could think.

In the hospitality industry, "treasured guest" has become a humorous bit of industry folklore to describe someone causing trouble. Maybe a customer yelling at staff over expired coupons, demanding impossible accommodations, or throwing a full-blown tantrum at the front desk. Whatever it is, the phrase has become the staff’s secret way to warn co-workers without escalating the situation in front of the customers. Most guests don’t realize the meaning, but once you know it, you may start hearing it more often. We just hope it’s not about you.

Imagine you’re pushing a shopping cart through Walmart when suddenly the overhead speaker announces, "Code Adam." You can easily assume it’s some kind of employee meeting or cleanup request. But when you see them start locking the exits and moving around, you know something’s wrong.

This code was created in 1994 by Walmart in collaboration with the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children (NCMEC), in memory of the tragic case of 6-year-old Adam Walsh. Adam was abducted from a Sears department store in 1981 while shopping with his mother. His father, John Walsh, later became famous for hosting the TV program America’s Most Wanted and advocating for missing children. Even if Adam’s story ended in tragedy, Walmart created the emergency system in Adam’s memory, and other retailers soon adopted it nationwide, intending to have a quick response to missing or abducted children.

You’re sitting in a hospital waiting room during a routine check-up when you suddenly hear "Code Blue, Room 214." Most people immediately know it sounds serious, even if they are not entirely sure why.

The phrase "Code Blue" is used at hospitals to draw the necessary staff and equipment to perform a resuscitation. It was created in the early 1960s at Beathany Medical Center by Dr. Hughes Day. Before then, hospital resuscitations were often chaotic and poorly coordinated. In 1961, Dr. Day received a grant to build one of America’s first cardiac care centers, and he developed both the Code Blue alert system and the modern crash cart to improve survival rates during cardiac emergencies. Today, the system is used in hospitals across the country, sometimes with specialized versions like "Code Blue Pediatric" or "Code Blue Neonate."

Imagine visiting a loved one in the hospital when the intercom calmly announces, "Paging Dr. Firectone to the third floor." Your head surely goes, "Dr. Firestone’s probably having a busy day up there." He is, but it’s not what you think.

The phrase is actually a discreet fire alert used to warn staff about smoke, flames, or overheating equipment without frightening patients and visitors. Hospitals adopted these coded announcements after realizing that openly yelling "fire" over loudspeakers could create panic, especially among patients who aren’t able to move quickly. "Code Red" is an alternative used by many health centers today, but it also hints at the situation while keeping hallways calm.

You’re standing at a checkout counter when the cashier picks up the phone and quietly says, "I need a Code 10 authorization." If you think that’s just another way to get a supervisor’s approval or technical issue, think again. In reality, the cashier may suspect the credit card is stolen or fraudulent.

Code 10 was developed through a cooperative effort between major credit card companies like Visa and Mastercard, along with international standard organizations. As credit cards became more common in the 1960s and 1970s, stores needed a discreet way to alert banks about suspicious activity without directly accusing customers and potentially putting employees at danger. When a cashier requests a Code 10, the bank’s operator begins asking yes-or-no questions to assess the situation and guide the employee on what to do next.

You’ve probably experienced those long airport security lines. The wait is usually uneventful. But sometimes, you can hear "Code Bravo" over the speakers. Maybe it’s a delay, or maybe it’s an issue with luggage. Within seconds, people stop moving, the security line freezes, and exits may even close. It’s something bigger.

Code Bravo is the emergency phrase used by airport security and the Transportation Security Administration to signal a serious security threat, such as an unattended bag, a breach at a checkpoint, or someone slipping into a restricted area. The term comes from the international phonetic alphabet used in aviation and military communications, where "Bravo" represents the letter B. When this is called, security staff immediately lock down affected areas, stop screening lines, and search for the source of the threat. To passengers, it’s sudden and confusing, but to security, it’s a carefully rehearsed response.

You are heading back to your cabin on a cruise ship when the speakers announce, "Code Alpha, Deck 7." You may think Alpha is related to the captain, but that’s not the case. It means someone on board is suffering a medical emergency.

The phrase comes from the NATO phonetic alphabet, where "Alpha" represents the letter A. In maritime emergency jargon, it became shorthand for a Priority A medical situation requiring immediate response. Cruise lines such as Royal Caribbean and Disney Cruise Line commonly use the term, though some ships use variations like repeating "Alpha" three times. Once the code is announced, onboard medical teams rush toward the specified deck or cabin. If necessary, stretcher crews are mobilized, and in severe cases, the ship may even divert course toward the nearest port for emergency evacuation. Passengers are enjoying the views, but the staff is running to save a life.

Anyone who remembers the CB radio craze of the 1970s probably smiles when they hear "10-4." Movies, truckers, and radio fans turned those number codes into a part of American culture. So if you overhear "10-33" on a police scanner, you might assume it’s just another routine message. But it’s not as simple as it sounds.

The 10-code system was first created in 1937 by Illinois State Police communications director Charles Hopper and later standardized by the Association of Public Safety Communications Officials, better known as APCO. Officers needed short phrases they could understand clearly over crackling radio signals. The 10-33 code commonly means an officer needs emergency assistance. In some departments, it also signals radio silence so dispatchers can focus on the crisis unfolding in real time.

Disney World is amazing, the parks offer something for everyone, and there are things to see wherever you look. But that’s exactly the kind of place where a child can easily disappear into a sea of strollers, balloons, characters, and crowds. For that reason, Disney has developed the "Signal 70," which alerts cast members and security that a child has become separated from their family.

The number comes from older police and emergency radio systems, where "70" was commonly associated with missing persons. Disney adopted the phrase because it allows employees to communicate discreetly without frightening or alarming nearby guests. If a member finds the child, they gently -and magically- escort them to Baby Care Center, where they coordinate the reunion.

Cruises are great to relax, enjoying a good book under the sun with a nice drink by the side. Until you hear "Echo, echo, echo" on the speakers. If you do, something is happening somewhere else on the ship.

The code is used among cruise employees to signal that dangerous winds or a navigational hazard are affecting the ship. It comes from the international maritime phonetic alphabet, where "Echo" stands for the letter E. In maritime signalling, the letter traditionally means "I am altering my course to starboard." And, in time, the phrase became associated with urgent ship maneuvers and weather-related warnings. However urgent, the repetition of the word by three doesn’t represent life-threatening situations. It alerts the crew of a certain hazard to prepare while avoiding panic among passengers.