In the story, there is no military tension, no setting up of China or Russia as aggressors, and no misguided American soldiers sabotaging the spaceship that landed in America. Story of Your Life is entirely focused on Louise’s rewired perception of her own life, and her pivotal choice to have a daughter despite the pain she knows it will cause. The reveal — that Louise has seen her daughter’s future — is not a surprise sci-fi twist, but a slow and steady realization. Even Chiang’s title has an obvious double meaning almost from the get-go, the pronoun “your” belonging both to Louise’s daughter and the idea that we as humans are made of our memories and defined by our choices.
This message exists in Arrival, but it’s hidden under broader plot movements, big drama, and more visible Hollywood layers. Chiang limits the scope of Story of Your Life to a reflection on personal choice. He says foreseeing a choice and then making it is not the cruelty of fate in action, but a powerful exercise in free will.
Viewers are already theorizing about the film’s plot, and whether it means that humans who learn the heptapod language can alter their own futures. Whether Louise can change anything is besides the point. In Arrival’s deterministic universe, free will exists in the form of following through on a choice you already know you’ll make. In effect, by choosing not to alter the future, you’re creating it, and actively affirming it.
“The heptapods are neither free nor bound as we understand those concepts; they don’t act according to their will, nor are they helpless automatons,” Louise says in Chiang’s story. “What distinguishes the heptapods’ mode of awareness is not just that their actions coincide with history’s events; it is also that their motives coincide with history’s purposes. They act to create the future, to enact chronology.”
Underneath the technical complexity of the explanation is a profound truth Chiang is communicating — and one Arrival similarly hammers home. “What if the experience of knowing the future changed a person?” Louise ponders. “What if it evoked a sense of urgency, a sense of obligation to act precisely as she knew she would?” And it is precisely because Louise understands what it will be like to lose her daughter that she chooses to bring her into the world nonetheless.
Readers aren’t necessarily supposed to agree with Louise’s choice. (Some of our own writers don’t.) But Arrival isn’t about time travel. It’s also not a commentary on gene-modification, abortion, or any other hot-button topic about using our foresight into the future to force our present path to diverge. It’s about acceptance, understanding our life’s choices, and living as if any one moment were as valuable or meaningful as the next.
The film suggests that knowing what will happen in the future doesn’t diminish the meaning behind a choice you’ll make today. On the contrary, it says every choice you do make can be made knowing it will actively shape what’s to come. As Emerson once wrote, life's a journey, not a destination. In the circular, non-linear minds of Arrival’s aliens and Louise Banks, the destination doesn’t even exist.
Instead of treating that message like a superpower to acquire, the film delivers it as a subtle worldview. Hidden under Arrival’s more palatable themes about overcoming cultural differences and uniting as one species is Chiang’s more direct message about learning how to appreciate life’s moments, to live outside the bounds of time.
If we could see our lives laid out before us, would we change anything? Story of Your Life — and by extension Arrival — is telling us to live as if the answer is, and always will be, a resolute no.