October 31, 2017

A HALLOWEEN IDEA FOR A HALLOWEEN TUESDAY (328)!!!!!

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc.) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc.) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.

H Trope: Halloween horrors

It’s All Hallows Eve – or Hallowe’en – in Minneapolis, inside the city, not far from a park, though EVERY place in Minneapolis is not far from a park.

On the city’s north side, there’s a doctor’s clinic; it bears the stamp of approval of Planned Parenthood, most of the insurance companies operating in the state – and recently had a new addition put on.

Kehlanna McGee is a young graduate of the Minneapolis Community and Technical College with a new degree in nursing – she just turned nineteen. She’s a voracious reader and takes on the night shifts at every clinic and hospital she’s ever worked in because it gives her more time to READ. She recently bought the collected works of Stephen King and has entertained the idea that now that he’s dead, she might like to take over his spot! With a couple of publications in small emagazines, she spends what time she’s not working or reading…writing.

Trayvon Dehvahn is also a nursing school graduate, but he’s got med school in him plans. In particular, he’s really interested in cloning and biotechnology. He’s a reader, too, but has been working his way through the classics like DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE, FRANKENSTEIN, DRACULA, THE TELL-TALE HEART AND OTHER WRITINGS, SOMEETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES and the host of others.

When the new addition opens, they both get a job there and taking the training, both choose the new night shift in the ER. That’s where they meet the doctor who usually works that shift, Dr. Edgar B. Stevenson. He’s quiet, efficient – but when Trayvon and Kehlanna – who’ve started talking and seeing each other after work in the morning – start to notice that virtually all of the women who come to the clinic for abortions have one at 24 weeks, they wonder about it.

One night, a woman who is obviously farther along than 24 weeks comes in. Trayvon later enters the absurdly inaccurate records and talks to Kehlanna. They return to the clinic during the regular day shift and take an elevator down to Dr. Stevenson’s office and surgery. There, they discover a room. From the room, they hear noises. Noises that sound like voices. Voices crying out, not as infants cry, but as children cry out to be set free…


October 29, 2017

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY: What If Super Intelligence Just Means “Super Mistakes”?

Using the Programme Guide of the World Science Fiction Convention in Helsinki Finland in August 2017 (to which I will be unable to go (until I retire from education)), I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Programme Guide. The link is provided below…

What would a superintelligence, artificial or natural, be like? Would it be able to solve the same problems we can but quicker, or would it look on the world in a completely different way? What would the consequences be if we shared the world with one, or more than one? Do we want to build something smarter than we are? But do we have to [in order] to survive?

Tom Crosshill: SF, F, and YA Contemporary author
Benjamin C. Kinney: Escape Pod Assistant Editor as well as neuroscientist and writer
Mikko Rauhala: short story author in Finland, MS in Computer Science/Intelligent Systems, transhumanist, singularitarian, Research Benefactor for the Machine Intelligence Research Institute, information society civil rights activist, member of the Electronic Frontier Foundation, vegan
Lettie Prell: Science fiction and fantasy writer

Why does everyone make the assumption that super smart equals Savior Of All Mankind?

That seems to be the current flow in the speculative fiction world. Gone are the explorations of the dark side of AI (Starting HAL in 2001: A Space Odyssey – a list of movies for your deliberation – https://www.wired.com/2009/01/top-10-evil-com/), hello, “I Sing the Body Singularity!” and features people consistently hoping that they’ll be around for the event.

In case you don’t know what the Singularity is, the brief definition: “the hypothesis that the invention of artificial superintelligence will abruptly trigger runaway technological growth, resulting in unfathomable changes to human civilization.” Jon von Neumann, Vernor Vinge, Ray Kurzweil, Eric Horvitz, and many other SF writers are typically proponents of superintelligence; major detractors include Stephen Hawking and Elon Musk as well as the works of Frank Herbert (the rebellion against AIs was called the Butlerian Jihad) and both incarnations of BATTLESTAR GALACTICA.

Even so, while the detractors assume malicious intent of the superintelligence, I wonder if it might end up less dramatic than that.

In the school I work at, I’ve known incredibly intelligent young adults who are poised to make their mark on society in a powerful way – one in computers, one in biophysics, another in medicine, one even in particle physics. I have also known incredibly intelligent young adults who were poised to make their mark on society and who failed spectacularly.

Why do both the proponents and detractors of AI believe in an intrinsic “good/bad” or good vs evil orientation. What if the Singularity produces both spectacular advances – and spectacular failures? Are we prepared for that?

I highly doubt it. We already have trouble following metaphysical gods. Most speculative fiction writers will instantaneously point out the number of murderers who thought they were hearing “God’s Voice” as he directed them to murder abortion rights advocates or even rock-and-roll singers. I have yet to read a story in which a speculative fiction admits to the entire history of both the old Soviet Union and present-day China (as well as several other countries) are officially atheist and summarily order the slaughter of Tibetan monks, underground Christians, Nazi Germany (while technically Lutheran…which we also never mention) ordered the extermination of Jews, jailing of devout Muslims...

What makes people believe that an artificial intelligence will be any better at “leading Humanity” than a metaphysical God? There will, of course, be “believers”. I had an odd thought while writing this that among the proponents of AI and superintelligence, there may be some who are doing the same thing many Americans do, particularly those in the 1950s like teen fiction SF writer Robert A. Heinlein who possibly went along with the prevailing religious mores of the dominant society in order to get published. What if individuals convinced of the coming superintelligence wrought apocalypse of all “normal Humans”, make certain that their “approval” of the Singularity is well-documented so that our new root overlords or superintelligent masters leave them alone? Perhaps the True Believers will be coopted by the superintelligence(s) to, you know, “run stuff” for them, the SI putting them in charge of the everyday operation of the world.

Nevertheless, the problem is that we constantly second-guess whoever is "over" us -- presidents, popes, generals, and head football coaches -- are criticized by the ones being led (or entertained). Once a superintelligence evolves, what's to keep all the scifi typed from bemoaning the job they're doing? What's to keep a superintelligence from making super mistakes?

Nothing.

Those cheerleading for superintelligence today might get exactly that. They may be pushing for it in fact. Of course, those operating at that level might be treading thin ice. Collaborators fare poorly in Human society and superintelligence won’t have anything BUT us to model itself/themselves after initially taking over the world.

So…superintelligence – something to cultivate or inhibit?

If we choose to inhibit it however, well, we all know what happens as soon as you tell people they “can’t do that”…


October 26, 2017

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 113: Paolo in Burroughs

On a well-settled Mars, the five major city Council regimes struggle to meld into a stable, working government. Embracing an official Unified Faith In Humanity, the Councils are teetering on the verge of pogrom directed against Christians, Molesters, Jews, Rapists, Buddhists, Murderers, Muslims, Thieves, Hindu, Embezzlers and Artificial Humans – anyone who threatens the official Faith and the consolidating power of the Councils. It makes good sense, right – get rid of religion and Human divisiveness on a societal level will disappear? An instrument of such a pogrom might just be a Roman holiday...To see the rest of the chapters, go to SCIENCE FICTION: Martian Holiday on the right and scroll to the bottom for the first story. If you’d like to read it from beginning to end (70,000+ words as of now), drop me a line and I’ll send you the unedited version.

Judas didn’t say anything for some time. “So? I reiterate my question, ‘How does that affect the Church’?”

“If we come forward with evidence that Humans aren’t alone in the universe – and our faith doesn’t go to pieces – the witness will bring more into the arms of Christ. If the Unified Faith in Humanity either attempts to suppress us by increasing the efforts of the pogrom, we aren’t any worse off than we’ve ever been. But if we lead people to a new understanding of our place in the universe and are seen to embrace it, the UniFiH can’t exactly crush us AND celebrate the discovery. Besides, I think God is leading me to gather the evidence.” Paolo Marcillon paused, waited, then said, “I also believe that other Christians have other pieces of evidence pointing to the same thing. I think God is preparing the Church to lead Mars.”

Judas stared at him. His mouth opened once and no sound came out. Finally he managed, “You have got to be kidding.”

Paolo shook his head. “God’s people have been messengers before…”

“Not like this! You’re talking about taking on the whole of Martian society!”

“There are people who are sympathetic without being Christians – people who might pause before they execute people who think differently.”

Judas snorted. “You’re talking about Burroughs Dome, here. A stronghold of the Unified Faith in Humanity.” He scowled. “Besides, what’s us finding out we’re not alone in the universe got to do with anything?”

Paolo pursed his lips and said shortly, “I guess it’s a tenet of the Faith – that if aliens are more advanced than us technologically than us, they’d be more ethically advanced than us as well…”

“That worked real well for Australia’s First Nation peoples, didn’t it?”

“Australia?” Paolo said.

“The seventh continent on Earth. When ‘technologically advanced’ Europeans came into contact with the less technologically dependent First Australians, they were definitely NOT more ethically advanced.”

“Really?”

Judas nodded. “Not by a long shot. In fact the complexity of their justifications for just about anything illegal or horrific are legendary. I don’t know how your average UniFiH,” he said it like “you-neh-fee”, “would willingly swallow that model when the evidence on Earth – and the Moon – clearly point to evidence supporting otherwise.”

Paolo looked at him for long time before he finally said, “The fact is that the artifacts are going to leak out into public knowledge eventually. I just saw the Stele myself, and the way they view the characters on them is the same way I discovered that my artifact was covered with markings.”

“What did you find?”

“A satellite.”

“So some of these extraterrestrials wrote in metal on satellites and some wrote on stones – like the Ten Commandments?”

Paolo nodded slowly.

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“I thought of one way it might.”

Judas frowned, clearly trying to parse what Paolo was certain of. “I don’t see it.”

Paolo hesitated. He was going to have to speak up sometime. Saying it out loud to one man would only risk a bloody nose rather than speaking to a group and risking a lynching. He said, “The satellite came first, probably scanning Mars for landing sites and that kind of thing, some sort of survey.”

“Why would they turn around and write on rocks?”

“Because it was all they had left after they were marooned here, doomed to die.”


October 24, 2017

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 327

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc.) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.

H Trope: Above Good and Evil (objectives are more valuable than meaningless considerations of good and evil)
Current Event: “Swat Sociopaths? I came up with the idea because I thought it would be useful for sociopaths to be able to speak to one another. I thought that I would like to meet other like-minded people, but there is absolutely no way to do that in general life. Thus, an anonymous forum of sorts seemed the best way to go about it.” (http://daily.swarthmore.edu/2013/03/20/qa-with-founder-of-new-anonymous-group-swat-sociopaths/)

Niya Ouellet stared at the email. The minute she’d seen the advertisement on the UofM Confessions wall, she’d been captured, bound, and gagged. Her pulse pounded in her ears as her finger hovered over the SEND icon. A club for sociopath’s sounded weird to her.

It also sounded perfect. All she needed was to get together with others who thought like her and together they could get rid of the people who were so jealous of her – and others like her who were so gifted and talented.

She sent it.


Mehdi Claes stared at his computer screen. The Dean of the Computer Science Department sat across from him, staring at a mirror screen. She said, “How many of these have you gotten so far?”

“Twelve,” said Mehdi.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” Mehdi took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. “It was a joke.”

“How many of these people do YOU think are joking?”

Mehdi pursed his lips. “I’m only a college freshman.”

“But you have a brain. You also had the sense to text me and have me come and look at these.” Professor Lenae touched her computer. If even one of these people is seriously a sociopath...”

“A what?”

“Sociopath.”

“What’s that?”

“They aren’t ‘its’, they’re ‘whos’. They have brains that compel them to certain behaviors.”

“Like what?”

“Sociopaths are charming, charismatic, spontaneous, intense, and are happy to betray people, threaten or harm others without giving it a second thought. They are also  outrageous liars. They hate to lose anything; use their brainpower to deceive others; are entirely self-serving master wordsmiths; they never apologize; are delusional and literally believe that what they say becomes truth.”

“And there’s one of these here?”

Professor Lenae stared at him for some time before she said, “According to what you have here, there are twelve.” She paused, shook her head and added, “And they think you’re going to be their leader.”

Names: ♀Israel (Jewish), French Canadian ; ♂ Tunisia, Belgian
Image: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2-arXKTiwzTybeiZ-IjR8P9j_aP2vqKXJulRCqqk_e42EoyXriDrQffp-dV_b96wQqLf5Y-M9XYpYkS4Lpz0PJvQcjGfHXS3M8QSPWCq9l9UURqlah0AR2TAlNeS4yX_NR2arOLIZVuY/s1600/2212_1025142570.jpg

October 22, 2017

WRITING ADVICE: Can This Story Be SAVED? #17 “The Thirteenth Artifact” (Submitted 10 Times Since 2014, Revised Once)

In September of 2007, I started this blog with a bit of writing advice. A little over a year later, I discovered how little I knew about writing after hearing children’s writer, In April of 2014, I figured I’d gotten enough publications that I could share some of the things I did “right”. I’ll keep that up, but I’m running out of pro-published stories. I don’t write full-time, nor do I make enough money with my writing to live off of it, but someone pays for and publishes ten percent of what I write. Hemingway’s quote above will remain unchanged as I work to increase my writing output and sales, but I’m adding this new series of posts because I want to carefully look at what I’ve done WRONG and see if I can fix it. As always, your comments are welcome!

Preparing for this essay, I realized suddenly that I skipped several markets for it entirely, most notably, ANALOG, as well as IGMS, LIGHTSPEED, COMPELLING, and (I think) GIGANOTOSAURUS…so this may lead to another revision in light of these misses!

ANALOG Tag Line
Are Humans more than precocious monkeys? A union of Sentient aliens wants to know!

Elevator Pitch (What Did I Think I Was Trying To Say?)
After First Contact, a representative of the Unity of Sentients assigned to Humanity – the Shabe – have watched with condescending boredom as Humans race to find Artifacts planted by them as a sort of “Turing Test”. Humans have unearthed twelve technological artifact on Earth. Each one was JUST beyond the capabilities of the most technologically advanced society of the era in which it appears. It is conversely, ALWAYS placed in one of the least advanced societies of that era. There is only one Artifact remaining. It will be just beyond the ability of mid-Twenty First Century Humanity to detect using technology. INTELLIGENCE will be what will find it.

Opening Line:
“What did you say your name was?” the young Haitian National Police officer looked up at her, squinting, then back down at the stack of identification papers.”

Onward:
“Stamatina Isabeau Alcine.”

He scowled, “You don’t look French.”

“I’m not. I’m American.”

He snorted and folded her papers to return them.

Stamatina took a deep breath, held it, then began in Haitian creole, “Paran manman m' yo te asasine pa tonton macoutes pour doktè Divalye,” the young man crossed himself, eyes going wide. She’d said that her mother’s parents had been murdered by Baby Doc Duvalier’s tonton macoutes. She continued, “...in 1983. My mother was adopted by an American family, through their church-sponsored orphanage. She graduated from high school and went to nursing school. While she was there, she worked with a study partner, a man from Ghana who eventually got bored with his education and raped her. I was conceived. As a single mother, family friends took care of me while mother finished college. I graduated from high school some years later with highest honors – which I also did from Harvard with a degree in cultural anthropology. I got a masters with similar honors in Integrative Physiology and Neuroscience from the College of Veterinary Medicine at Washington State University. My PhD is in Xenoarchaeology from Texas A&M. I was asked by the Haitian government to join the team trying to determine if the thirteenth Unity artifact is really here.”

She wanted to say more, but clamped her jaw tightly. She hadn’t meant to lose her temper. Taking a deep breath, she knew she was here to prove that the alien Shabe did not own Earth; and that in xenoarchaeology, her instinct would trump her archrival’s technology every time.

A shout came from inside the electrified cyclone fence the young Haitian man was guarding. “Matina!” the big, fat, white guy inside cried, arms outspread, limping along a crushed stone trail.

Her anger drained away. Glancing sheepishly at the Haitian officer, she tilted sideways, waving to the man behind the cyclone fence, “Hey, Doctor Gospel!”

What Was I Trying To Say?
IF there are aliens out there (while I deeply WANT there to be, but there’s NO EVIDENCE. Yet the most brilliant minds of our time – Stephen Hawking, David Brin, Carl Sagan, Hillary Clinton, Jon Willis, Sara Seager, Jim Al-Khalili, and Lewis Dartnell (who, being an astrobiologist does, by definition – believe in aliens)), I don’t think they’ll just hook their arm (or whatever) and say, “C’mon down!”.

Just like we have criteria for membership in every august body on Earth as such diverse societies as the US Legislature, the Politburo, the League of Women Voters, China, First Nation, and millions of others, so members must meet the criteria of the Unity of Sentients. To be considered SENTIENT and able to join the Unity as participating members, we must pass this Turing Test.

The Rest of the Story:
Stamatina, aka Matina, is a xenoarchaeologist, one of the first of her kind. She also has a history as a half-Haitian, half Kenyan woman. She believes she’s discovered the Thirteenth Artifact. Her competition, Dukernst André Frisch believes the same – that HE has discovered the Thirteenth Artifact.

She’s the one who has, with the help of her mentor and friend, Profesè Evangile.

End Analysis:
My best analysis is that the story is…muddled. Parts of it are clear – the history, locale, and even the main character, Stamatina, are all real and well-researched. I got that. The feel – I felt the pounding Haitian sun on my head during the winter of 1980, when I was there as a short-term missionary. We started work on an orphanage. It was my very first experience with extreme poverty…Matina really WAS the daughter of a friend of ours (though the name and other information has been changed to protect her and our friend!)

But the story itself (once again, I must sadly say) suffers from too MUCH story. Also, it’s the beginning of a much longer story rather than a separate story.

Reflecting last night before falling asleep, I realized that after reading a recent issue of my favorite magazine, not one of the stories I read really had a “take-away”. Not ONE of them “spoke to me”.

All of them were professional quality, interesting, entertaining, even. But they didn’t “say something”. I didn’t walk away unable to stop thinking about either the characters or what the author was trying to communicate. That’s not true of the magazine all the time, but since the elder editor passed on the mantle…the stories haven’t decreased in quality. They’ve decreased in “weight”…

I should point out that the highest rating on my scale would include Anne McCaffery’s first Pern short story, “Weyr Search”; David Brin’s (it’s the first section of his Nebula and Hugo award winning STARTIDE RISING) “The Tides of Kithrup”, and Lois McMaster Bujold’s spectacularly haunting, “The Mountains of Mourning”.

All three of them carried deep questions that never intruded on the story. Perhaps I’ll iterate this idea the next time WRITING ADVICE cycles through…

Can This Story Be Saved?
Sure – and I think I will try and save it. I haven’t exhausted the markets and I like the story. It’s just so muddled, I think a thorough going over with a steel-toothed comb might comb out the snarls. First off will be clarifying the reason for finding the Thirteenth Artifact; though to be truthful, I’d never clarified it to MYSELF until I just finished it an hour ago, so “No surprise!” I wasn’t communicated the idea very well.

So – I’ll do it. Soon. Though I have MORE than enough writing work to do at the moment…


October 19, 2017

LOVE IN A TIME OF ALIEN INVASION -- Chapter 73

On Earth, there are three Triads intending to integrate not only the three peoples and stop the war that threatens to break loose and slaughter Humans and devastate their world; but to stop the war that consumes Kiiote economy and Yown’Hoo moral fiber. All three intelligences hover on the edge of extinction. The merger of Human-Kiiote-Yown’Hoo into a van der Walls Society might not only save all three – but become something not even they could predict. Something entirely new...

The young experimental Triads are made up of the smallest primate tribe of Humans – Oscar and Xiomara; the smallest canine pack of Kiiote – six, pack leaders Qap and Xurf; and the smallest camelid herd of Yown’Hoo – a prime eleven, Dao-hi the Herd mother. On nursery farms and ranches away from the TC cities, Humans have tended young Yown’Hoo and Kiiote in secret for decades, allowing the two, warring people to reproduce and grow far from their home worlds.

“We had nearly fallen into stagnation when we encountered the Kiiote.”
“And we into internecine war when we encountered the Yown’Hoo.”
 “Yown’Hoo and Kiiote have been defending themselves for a thousand revolutions of our Sun.”
 “Together, we might do something none of us alone might have done…a destiny that included Yown’Hoo, Kiiote, and Human.” (2/19/2015)

Outside the room, I gestured to the Pack as I figured they’d be the logical next, but Retired – our nickname for Lieutenant Commander Patrick Bakhsh (ret) – followed me out and said, “No need. I got the tracker.”

He suddenly had everyone’s attention. I stared at him for a moment and then managed to whisper, “Me?”

He smiled a little, “No, not you, kid.”

Dao-hi pranced forward, he tentacles pulling free of their sheathe for the first time. Qap and Xurf came forward as well. The Herd moved with their Herd Mother; the Pack slid their malleable skeletons into their four-legged state. Even Xio, who’d been watching for the smallest Herd who’d gone ahead to scout and who were being shadowed by GURion stepped back to me. The Herd Mother said, “Who then? One of mine?” She turned to look over them and the Herd moved restlessly. Yown’Hoo trample traitors. I saw it once when I was a kid after a particularly messy confrontation between them, the Kiiote, and a Human faction armed with particle acceleration weapons. They lost, so the offending Herd Mother had been executed.

Retired sighed, then said, “Me.”

Me and Xio exclaimed, “What?”

Dao-hi and her Herd reared up.

The Pack snarled in anger and fear.

From the door, Great Uncle Rion said, “It’s only logical.”

Retired’s eye narrowed dangerously. “Why is it logical?”

My robotic great uncle shrugged, so like a Human, for a moment, I didn’t see his white plastic shell. His eyes had never changed. I knew they were artificial, but they looked as real as Xio’s. “We know the Triad Corporation stands in opposition to more than one group…”

Retired lifted his chin, “One of them being Apex Human.”

“Truth.”

Xio said, “HumanOne are terrorists!”

Xurf snarled the name of a Kiiote Pack – something like “rowf-rowf-snapping, snapping, snapping teeth” – constantly at odds with the rest of their civilization – which insisted on peace between Kiiote and Yown’Hoo at any cost. The cost was usually said to be the vaporization of Earth.

The Herd Mother didn’t say anything even though we all looked at her. She spat in irritation and said, “Fine. The Herd is not moving in the same direction. Many are, but the trails grow increasingly divergent, following more and more Herd Mothers and ignoring the traditions of ages past.” She paused, “This is what I have heard.”

“I represent Triad – in case you were wondering, that’s why I’m here – but I’ve travelled extensively all over the planet. I have been attacked more times than I can remember – and before I was retired, I was acting liaison between the Combined Forces and the Corporation. I had numerous physicals…”

To be honest, I didn’t care about Retired’s history, “What are you going to do…”

He held up his left arm, where it had been in shadow. His bicep was bleeding, the blood having run down his forearm and into his hand. Now it ran down his bare upper arm, soaking into the sleeve he’d slit open. Only Xio and I reacted – the others were no more horrified than I would have been seeing a squirrel smashed on the road. We were, even in the Triad, still primitives compared to the Kiiote and the Yown’Hoo. They had been in space and colonizing worlds and building empires when Genghis Khan was a baby. Humans only got as far as the Organization of Solar Humanity when the war spilled into the solar system and we ended back on Earth again. The outposts of Humanity either died off or were destroyed during various alien battles – never directly. Neither people cared about Humans one way or the either. They’d used Earth to raise their young, but once the fighting broke out, they either vaporized their kids to prevent them being taken hostage, rescued them, or…I have no idea what the other alternatives are.

Humanity found out the universe – at least our slice of it – was brutal.

Retired said, “I removed the tracker and destroyed it. We shouldn’t have anyone else after us.”

“Who put it in you?” Xio asked.

“It doesn’t matter…” she started to protest, followed by the rest of us. He held up his bloody hand. “We can talk about it while we run. But we have to get moving. Whoever planted it on me has just discovered that it’s not tracking anymore.”

“What? Why didn’t you just leave it?” said GURion.

Retired shook his head. “If I left it transmitting, it would stop moving. They’d figure we went underground. Then they would have had no trouble following it. Finding us would have been just a matter of guesswork. They already know we’re headed north, so they’d have wasted no time south. They’d have sent drones down the tunnel and quickly discovered we weren’t there. Whoever is following us would just send whatever air cover they have – anything from the helicopters that already tried to kill us – to microdrones. They’d catch us in sixty minutes or less. This way, they’ll puzzle over the loss of signal for at least sixty minutes. It could be a glitch or a technical problem – and they wouldn’t want to tip off any of their competitors that something was going on because that would risk them finding us first. This way, we gain an hour. If we stop talking and get moving.” He didn’t bark an order. He looked at me.

I might have fainted dead away if I hadn’t been expecting it. I surprised him and everyone else by saying, “Herd Mother, designate one of the younger males to gather up the scouts and then join the rest of us. We’re moving to the surface. Now.” I looked at Retired, “Lead the way, Lieutenant Commander Bakhsh.”

Without a hint of irony or condescension, he said, “Yes, Sir.” We moved.


October 17, 2017

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 326

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc.) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them. Regarding Fantasy, this insight was startling: “I see the fantasy genre as an ever-shifting metaphor for life in this world, an innocuous medium that allows the author to examine difficult, even controversial, subjects with impunity. Honor, religion, politics, nobility, integrity, greed—we’ve an endless list of ideals to be dissected and explored. And maybe learned from.” – Melissa McPhail.


Alambil shook her head and said, “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be writing down what I say.”

Uvilas snorted, as any good centaur can do, and said, “Who said you were Sherlock and I was Watson?”

Alambil, once a star in Narnia and currently a visitor to the Court of Caspian XII, snorted just as loudly. Her mother would have said it was unladylike – or unstarlike. Alambil didn’t really care as she said, “You were Sherlock last week. I get to be it this week...”

“Him. In the book Queen Susan the Gentle sent with Her Most Kind and Royal Majesty Queen Lucy the Valiant, Sherlock Holmes is a Human male.”

She brushed him away, saying, “Whatever.”

There was a knock at the door. Alambil and Uvilas looked at each other then she bowed and gestured to the door. Uvilas scowled and crossed the floor of the cottage, reached for the door then stepped back.

“Just do it, Sissyhoofs!” Alambil hissed. Uvilas clenched his jaw cantered a meter forward, threw the bolt and yanked the door open.

Four Calmorenes, wicked scimitar swords drawn pointed at Uvilas’ heart but instead of swinging, they prodded him backward until he gave way. A moment later, a woman, whose head was wrapped in a turban and whose face was entirely veiled swept into the room. She turned once, then clapped her hands. The soldiers and their swords fell back and closed the door softly behind them.

The woman lifted her turban, trailing the veils over her face until they saw that she was an older woman, face seamed with laughlines and hair silvered with age.

Alambil gasped and fell to her knees, “Your majesty!” She looked up at Uvilas and hissed, down on your front knees Sissyhoofs! This is Queen Aravis of Archenland, Princess of Calormen, Duchess of the Lonely Isles!”

The elderly woman smiled and looked down on them and said, “I have need of your criminal detection skills.”

“Your majesty?” said Uvilas.

“Yes, my horse, Hwin, has been kidnapped. You must find her!”

Names: ♀ Narnia; ♂ Narnia                                                

October 15, 2017

Slice of PIE: Alternative Venerations – or Christian vs Not-Christian

Using the Programme Guide of the World Science Fiction Convention in Helsinki Finland in August 2017 (to which I will be unable to go (until I retire from education)), I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Programme Guide. The link is provided below…

Religious Diversity in Fiction
Religious quests are often used in science fiction and fantasy and - very often - they draw on Christianity. But how about other religions? How are they used in fiction?

Naomi Libicki: a science fiction and fantasy short fiction writer who lives in Jerusalem
Mrs. Philippa Chapman: Authority on eldercare and religious diversity, Church of England
T. Thorn Coyle: writer of science fiction, fantasy, and alternative history; understands pagan practice
Brad Lyau: science/fiction historian (http://www.rawbw.com/~mikeb/BL_SFList.html)

This is a strange statement. What kind of proof does the person who generated the subject of this panel offer for the statement that “religious quests…in science fiction and fantasy…very often…draw on Christianity.”?

Certainly Lewis’ CHRONICLES OF NARNIA, Tolkien’s LORD OF THE RINGS, and Donaldson’s THOMAS COVENANT books do (though only tangentially), Steele’s COYOTE books certainly (but, IMO, only to create sympathetic dramatic attention between oppressive conservatives and heroic…non-conservatives) as do David Weber’s SAFEHOLD series which draw on Christian hymns (but my objection is the same for Steele’s COYOTE books); but Pullman’s HIS DARK MATERIALS, Herbert’s DUNE books, Rowling’s HARRY POTTER books (though there may be pseudo-Christian architecture and ritual), and Alastair Reynold’s REVELATION SPACE novels, have markedly not-Christian worldviews. Quite a few feature no gods at all – the STAR TREK universe is the best-known a-theist society, after that, Cherryh’s ATEVI books, McDevitt’s several universes, Czerneda doesn’t touch on religion as far as I can remember.

While none of the above (except the Lewis and Tolkien books) are specifically “quest” series, certainly all of them contain characters who set off on quests of one form or another.

So what was this discussion like? Was it Christian-bashing?

I DO have a friend who was there and he had this to say: “I did make it to that one, but I'm afraid I don't remember much. Looking at the names of the panelists, I remember one was a pagan, one was a lay minister in the Anglican Church, and the moderator was an Orthodox Jew. There was one other, but I don't remember what, if any, his affiliation was. It was a decent conversation, but nothing new or earth-shattering. – Paul Foth, 10/15/17”

WHEW! It was good to hear they didn’t waste time in venerational hair-splitting (as in, “Paganism is WAY better than Christianity” or “If there was no Christianity there would be no war on Earth” or “Christians stole all of their pathetic religion from the druids, indigenous peoples, and Babylonian pantheons”…)

So then, after poking around at the books listed above, I thought I’d add the following from my collections: While Robert A. Heinlein himself was not a Christian, strictures of publishing for young people in the 1950s dictated at least a non-aggressive attitude (his adult novels are different stories); the Pern books of Anne McCaffrey have no religion at all; the UPLIFT books of David Brin have multiple religions and are THE driving forces in the series; the DERYNI series by Katherine Kurtz are deeply intertwined with Christianity; Kristine Kathryn Rusch’s THE DISAPPEARED science fiction mystery novels occasionally use alien religions but not (that I can recall) Christianity; Tobias Buckell’s XENOWEALTH books seem rooted in Mesoamerican religion; Zelazney’s CHRONICLES OF AMBER have some Christian threads, but more “Celtic...Norse mythology, and Arthurian legend…Philosophical texts...Plato's Republic…and the classical problems of metaphysics, virtuality, solipsism, logic, possible worlds, probability, doubles and essences are also repeatedly reflected on.” (From the Wikipedia article) As well, the science fiction of some writers has been heavily influenced by the decidedly a-Christian worldview of the Singularity (the works of Charles Stross, Iain M. Banks, Vernor Vinge); Peter F. Hamilton’s next series will feature aliens in search of their god, though the VOIDSHIP series didn’t seem to have much to do with Christianity.

So – while it’s true that several novels and series draw from Christianity, I’d say that in my experience it’s far more evenly split and may in fact, lean more toward what I would call alternative venerations…

Image: https://dhilipkumarek.files.wordpress.com/2010/05/christianity-vs-non-christians1.jpg

October 14, 2017

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 112: Aster of Opportunity

On a well-settled Mars, the five major city Council regimes struggle to meld into a stable, working government. Embracing an official Unified Faith In Humanity, the Councils are teetering on the verge of pogrom directed against Christians, Molesters , Jews, Rapists, Buddhists, Murderers, Muslims, Thieves, Hindu, Embezzlers and Artificial Humans – anyone who threatens the official Faith and the consolidating power of the Councils. It makes good sense, right – get rid of religion and Human divisiveness on a societal level will disappear? An instrument of such a pogrom might just be a Roman holiday...To see the rest of the chapters and I’m sorry, but a number of them got deleted from the blog – go to SCIENCE FICTION: Martian Holiday on the right and scroll to the bottom for the first story. If you’d like to read it from beginning to end (70,000+ words as of now), drop me a line and I’ll send you the unedited version.

“You probably have a tracker on you!”

Aster Theilen shook her head, “Dad, please give FardusAH some credit.”

“Who’s that?” said Abedne Halle-Theilen.

“She’s a friend of mine.”

“How did you meet her?”

Aster frowned, then said, “She’s one of the Artificial Human who serves the Mayor. She knows I want to use my position to change Martian society. I’m sure anything the Mayor put on my to track my whereabouts – and I don’t think it’s come to that yet – she would have neutralized or redirected…”

“It’s not the Mayor I’m worried about, Aster. It’s vo’Maddux…”

A woman’s voice in the darkness said, “And you’d be correct to worry about just that, Madame Consort. Entirely and completely correct…”

Aster and her father spun in different directions and ran out of the tunnel junction into two of the three corridors what didn’t appear on the map. Aster shot a glance over her shoulder. There were no lights and she didn’t hear anything behind her. Only the voice and only the one time. She did, however, know vo’Maddux. She ran and didn’t stop until she had a stitch in her side. Finally, chest heaving as she gasped for air, she stopped to lean against a wall she could only feel in the stygian darkness.

The same woman spoke again, low-pitched, threatening, “These tunnels may be dark to you, Madame Consort, but there are those who can see in them as if it were only twilight instead of cave-dark. Others could see you glowing as if you were a lantern because they have genetically engineered eyes enhanced to see into the infrared.” She paused, “I am one of those.”

“You can’t do anything to me vo’Maddux. Even you can see that the Mayor would suspect you if I disappear.” Aster kept her voice level, calm, as if she were speaking to FardusAH. “He’s never trusted you.”

She heard the shrug in a faint rustle of fabric. “I don’t want his trust. I want his job.”

Aster shook her head. “That’s not how it works, Dear.” She used the diminutive on purpose. vo’Maddux had a well-known temper, goaded by certain people with ease. “Besides if you can see me, then you must have genetic adaptations. What makes you different from any other Artificial Human?”

“I’m not Artificial!” the woman shouted, then cleared her throat. “My gene scan will show that I’m almost seventy-four percent Original DNA Human.”

“Hmmm. Not as high a percentage as I am, but I suppose that’s adequate. It certainly keeps you in a respected job.”

She didn’t speak for some time. When she did, her voice was very low, “I may have underestimated you, Dear.” Aster pursed her lips. Her own hearing, while not genetically enhanced, had always been superb. From movements, breathing, and the location of the woman’s voice, she was certain to within centimeters of where she was; where her throat would be. vo’Maddux finally spoke, “I won’t do so any more. Your career in the Mayor’s office…”

Aster cut her off, “…was not anything I ever cared for. You would have it if I could give it away.” She paused, waiting for the other woman opened her mouth before she cut her off, “But I’m the one who has it and you won’t get rid of me as easily as you got rid of the other Consorts.”

There was a long pause, the vo’Maddux said, “Don’t make the mistake I just made.”

Aster hummed and waited for the sound of receding footsteps, the followed after her.


October 11, 2017

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 325

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.

SF Trope: robots

“The Serpent In Eden, Nebraska”

Caleb Ogallala stared at the hole in the ground. “‘bout wide enough for me to get my arm down. Probably to my elbow,” he said. Looking up at his sister, Isabella Pearson nee Ogallala, he said, “You probably don’t believe I saw what I said I saw.”

Isabella – who went by Bell at SolaRobotics in the far, frozen northland of Winnipeg – said, “You’re my brother and I believe you saw what you thought you saw.”

“Not the same thing. You may be all of twenty-three and all I am is seventeen, but I know what I saw. It was a robot shaped like a snake and it dug this here hole.”

Bell winced at the Plainsism. She’d barely managed to ditch the weird accent after she did her undergrad work at the University of Minnesota. She’d finally got that accent right. Now she was struggling to fit in at her newly adopted home in Canada. She nodded, then squatted, “All right then. I apologize. You saw a robot shaped like a snake go down this hole.” She looked up at her brother. He didn’t seem as happy as he used to. Mom and Dad dying from MERS while she was away at college probably hadn’t helped with the mood. Not that their family laughed much. Salt-of-the-Earth Dad had called them...She shook off the melancholy image and shielded her eyes with her hand as she said, “First question is: has the county let the prairie dogs back in?”

His lips twitched in a smile. It was the first one since he’d picked her up at the skip-port in Ogallala, sixty klicks straight north of here. He said, “Not that I know of, but people ‘round here, they don’t much trust nobody’s government, even when it’s the Accordion Party.”

She stood and straightened up, “It’s the Accord Party.”

He shrugged then said, “It had your logo on it.”

“What?” she said, suddenly intent.

“The second letter of your name the round sun with black diamond eyes. It was on the snake head.”

Unexpectedly, Bell was cold despite the heat from the late morning sun…

Names: Nebraska, Nebraska ; Nebraska, Nebraska           

October 8, 2017

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY: Flash Fiction -- More Powerful Than NOVELS!

Using the Programme Guide of the World Science Fiction Convention in Helsinki Finland in August 2017 (to which I will be unable to go (until I retire from education)), I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Programme Guide. The link is provided below…

Ready, Steady, Flash: Writers are given a theme, or phrase, around which they must each write a piece of flash fiction. Live, in front of the audience. They have FIVE MINUTES in which to write it. At the end of each round the stories are read out, and the audience votes on the best!

Lee Harris: Tor’s novella editor…whoa!
Karin Tidbeck: Swedish fantasy and weird fiction writer
Peter Newman: English fantasy (VAGRANT) and short story writer
N.S. Dolkart: Fantasy writer
Nalo Hopkinson: Nothing else needs to be said…


Novels have been known to change the world, but today, Flash Fiction, particularly speculative flash fiction, may hold the key to changing our perceptions and ideas...which no one seems to recognize...

If you’re reading this (which means you read my blog), you know that I have published more short-short or flash fiction than I have anything else.

I love flash fiction because its purpose is to make a single point in as few words as possible. The writer uses words to paint a vivid image in the reader’s mind.

This probably lends strength to the fact that flash fiction can cut through the nicey-nice wordage usually associated with science fiction and fantasy – all writing, in fact – and say what the author wants to preach. Oh, make no mistake, the purpose of fiction is to make a point of some sort. Every story we read is the author’s attempt to advance their agenda whether it’s conscious or not. If you look above these posts, no less writer than Gene Wolfe speaks the truth of this as well as holding the respect of the field. Many of those writers don’t share his beliefs but readily acknowledge his brilliance. Literary luminary Neil Gaiman wrote, “He's the finest living male American writer of SF and fantasy – possibly the finest living American writer.”

While writers need to entertain first and can have their messages later – in Heinlein’s words: “I must always bear in mind that my prospective reader could spend his recreation money on beer rather than on my stories; I have to be aware every minute that I am competing for beer money-and that the customer does not have to buy. If I produced, let us say, potatoes or beef, I could be sure that my product had some value in the market. But a story that the customers do not enjoy reading is worth nothing.” (GRUMBLES FROM THE GRAVE, Chapter 1, January 10, 1972), he also said in the same section, “…if possible…cause my readers to think.” [http://www.e-reading.club/bookreader.php/73033/Heinlein_-_Grumbles_From_the_Grave.html#label4]

So why do I seem to do better with short fiction – and the SHORTEST fiction – than I do with my stories and novels?

I stumbled across Nalo Hopkinson’s first book, BROWN GIRL IN THE RING after reading a short story in DARK MATTER in the early years of the 21st Century. I loved it and wrote her a letter – didn’t hear back, but she was on her meteoric rise! No surprise! – and kept reading her work as well as others. She spoke volumes and continued to write short/flash fiction (http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/soul-case/).

Karin Tidbeck’s “Starfish” is haunting (http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/starfish/), even so, it entertains – and whether or not the author intended it, it reflects her view of the world. Wolfe says it all above and he also writes flash fiction! https://boingboing.net/2012/02/12/sf-flash-fiction-from-gaiman.html). An American “hero” of a writer is also accused of writing (and at the same time inventing flash fiction) one of the shortest pieces of fiction that packed a powerful punch. I’ve memorized the entire piece, but writing it here might lead me to a lawsuit for copyright infringement. You can find it (and the legend of how it was written!) here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/For_sale:_baby_shoes,_never_worn

While I wish I could have been there to hear the end result of this competition, I can comfort myself in the knowledge that I write in the midst of a great company of writers. My most recent piece of flash appeared on February 22, 2017 (http://nanoism.net/stories/736/): “She looked to the future, mom lived in the past. Beloved dad and husband saw or remembered neither, but in the present all three reconciled.”

If more people -- especially science fiction writers -- realized the power of flash fiction, then climate change evangelicals would write it more often. Seeing as how they don't get that, they haven't used this powerful tool to shape the climate...so to speak...of the country. Much as I loathe Trump, he DOES get it with his constant posting of Twitter fiction...