Author: Paul Fraser

Same Time, Same Place by Mervyn Peake

Posted on by Paul Fraser

Same Time, Same Place by Mervyn Peake (Science Fantasy #60, August 1963) is one of two stories that appeared in the magazine that year as a result, I believe, of Michael Moorcock’s friendship with the writer (Moorcock brought them to Ted Carnell’s attention, and also provided a short essay on Peake in the same issue in which this piece of fiction appears).
The story itself begins with a description that evokes the grimness of post-war Britain:

That night, I hated father. He smelt of cabbage. There was cigarette ash all over his trousers. His untidy moustache was yellower and viler than ever with nicotine, and he took no notice of me. He simply sat there in his ugly armchair, his eyes half closed, brooding on the Lord knows what. I hated him. I hated his moustache. I even hated the smoke that drifted from his mouth and hung in the stale air above his head.
And when my mother came through the door and asked me whether I had seen her spectacles, I hated her too. I hated the clothes she wore; tasteless and fussy. I hated them deeply. I hated something I had never noticed before; it was the way the heels of her shoes were worn away on their outside edges—not badly, but appreciably. It looked mean to me, slatternly, and horribly human. I hated her for being human—like father.  p. 57

When the narrator’s mother starts nagging him he feels suffocated, and leaves the house, getting on a bus to The Corner House restaurant in Piccadilly. There he befriends a woman, and he goes back to meet her on subsequent nights (although he wonders why she is always already there when he arrives, and remains seated when he leaves). Eventually, they arrange to marry.
The final section provides (spoiler) a nightmarish denouement—when his bus arrives late at the registrar’s office he sees, from the upper floor of the vehicle, a group of freakish individuals in the room where he is to be wed:

To the right of the stage (for I had the sensation of being in a theatre) was a table loaded with flowers. Behind the flowers sat a small pin-striped registrar. There were four others in the room, three of whom kept walking to and fro. The fourth, an enormous bearded lady, sat on a chair by the window. As I stared, one of the men bent over to speak to her. He had the longest neck on earth. His starched collar was the length of a walking stick, and his small bony head protruded from its extremity like the skull of a bird. The other two gentlemen who kept crossing and re-crossing were very different. One was bald. His face and cranium were blue with the most intricate tattooing. His teeth were gold and they shone like fire in his mouth. The other was a well-dressed young man, and seemed normal enough until, as he came for a moment closer to the window I saw that instead of a hand, the cloven hoof of a goat protruded from the left sleeve.
And then suddenly it all happened. A door of their room must have opened for all at once all the heads in the room were turned in one direction and a moment later a something in white trotted like a dog across the room.
But it was no dog. It was vertical as it ran. I thought at first that it was a mechanical doll, so close was it to the floor. I could not observe its face, but I was amazed to see the long train of satin that was being dragged along the carpet behind it.
It stopped when it reached the flower-laden table and there was a good deal of smiling and bowing and then the man with the longest neck in the world placed a high stool in front of the table and, with the help of the young man with the goat-foot, lifted the white thing so that it stood upon the high stool. The long satin dress was carefully draped over the stool so that it reached to the floor on every side. It seemed as though a tall dignified woman was standing at the civic altar.  p. 63

The narrator stays on the bus and, after riding around for a while, eventually goes home. He now loves his mother and father, and never goes out again.
I wondered if this was an allegory about leaving home, only to see horror in the outside world (he variously refers to members of the group he saw as “malignant” and “evil”), and then wanting to return to an earlier time (Peake was among the first British civilians to witness the horrors of the Nazi concentration camp at Belsen).
An interesting piece, but perhaps rather too dream-like to be completely satisfying.
** (Average). 3,500 words.

1. Mervyn Peake’s Wikipedia page.

Little Free Library by Naomi Kritzer

Posted on by Paul Fraser

Little Free Library by Naomi Kritzer (Tor.com, April 8th, 2020)1 begins with Meigan building a “Little Free Library” and mounting it on a post outside her house. She puts her unwanted books in it and leaves instructions to “take a book, return a book”. For a short while things proceed as expected, until one day she notices all the books have gone.
Meigan leaves a note to the person concerned pointing out what the rules are. Then, at the end of the same day, she notices that on this occasion only one book has been taken but, rather than leaving a book in exchange, there is a hand-carved whistle on top of the shelves. This object is the first of a series of (increasingly otherworldly) items that are left in exchange for the Meigan’s books: strangely coloured feathers, a green leaf (in February) that looks like a Maple but isn’t, a “carved stone animal too abstract to identify”, etc.
Simultaneous with this the mysterious borrower starts leaving notes (asking if there is a sequel to The Fellowship of the Ring, apologising for the day they took all the books, etc.), and a correspondence develops between the two.
Then (spoiler), Meigan leaves out a book titled Defending Your Castle:

That book was gone the next day.
And a day later, a tiny, glinting gold coin was left behind, with another letter.

To the librarian,
I do not know what I did to deserve the favor of the Gods, but I am grateful, so grateful, for your kindness to me. I believed our cause to be lost; I believed that I would never have the opportunity to avenge what was done to my family; now, suddenly, I have been gifted with a way forward.
Blessings on you.
It you can bring me more such books, I will leave you every scrap of gold I can find.

The gold coin was a tiny disk, the size of a dime but thinner. There was an image of a bird with spread wings stamped into one side; the other showed either a candelabra or a rib cage, Meigan wasn’t sure. Meigan’s kitchen scale thought the coin weighed four grams, which-if it was actually gold-was over $100 worth of gold. Of course, most gold-colored metal items weren’t actually gold, but … it was noticeably heavy for its tiny size, and when she tried a magnet, it was most definitely not magnetic. In theory she could have bitten it, but she didn’t want to mess up the pictures stamped in.
For the first time, she felt a pang of uncertainty.

The borrower (who appears to live in another world) later reveals that their Queen has been usurped, and that, with Meigan’s help (a series of books on warfare), they are going to attempt to regain her throne.
Meigan subsequently provides a series of useful books and accumulates a supply of gold coins in return—and then her correspondent falls silent, before communicating once more at the end of the story to say their cause is lost. The final object they leave is a wooden box, and a request that she keeps the contents safe:

She opened the box.
Nestled inside the wood was a straw lining—and an egg.
It was large—not enormous like an ostrich egg but it filled the palm of her hand. It was silvery green in color, with markings that looked almost like scales.

The egg is the Queen’s child.
This is a well done and charming piece that crams a lot into its short length, but it was too open-ended for me (although I thought the ending quite clever). I wonder if there will be further stories revealing what happened next.
Overall *** (Good). 2,500 words.

1. This story came top of the Locus Poll for Best Short Story and was a Hugo finalist.

The Liberation of Earth by William Tenn

Posted on by Paul Fraser

The Liberation of Earth by William Tenn (Future Science Fiction, May 1953) gets off to an intriguing start:

This, then, is the story of our liberation. Suck air and grab clusters. Heigh-ho, here is the tale.
August was the month, a Tuesday in August. These words are meaningless now, so far have we progressed; but many things known and discussed by our primitive ancestors, our unliberated, unreconstructed forefathers, are devoid of sense to our free minds. Still the tale must be told, with all of its incredible place-names and vanished points of reference.
Why must it be told? Have any of you a better thing to do?
We have had water and weeds and lie in a valley of gusts. So rest, relax, and listen. And suck air, suck air.  p. 29

After this the (far-future Earth) narrator tells his audience of the arrival of a large, cigar-shaped alien spaceship over France many years previously. We learn of the efforts made by the UN to communicate with the visitors, the Dendi, and how, after an Indian member of the secretariat notices a similarity between a Bengali dialect and their language, a breakthrough is made.
However, once the humans begin communicating with the Dendi, they find out in fairly short order that (a) Earth is considered a backwater by their Galactic Federation (and has been subject to benevolent ostracism), (b) the Dendi are at war with the rebel Troxxt (the reason they have broken the embargo on Earth is to use the planet as a communications hub for their military), and, finally, (c) the Dendi don’t want any help from humanity. This latter notwithstanding, the Dendi later order everyone to move out of Washington as they want to use area to build a large hall. Subsequently the Americans discover that the building is to be used as a Dendi recreation centre, and that their esteemed visitors are the equivalent of a patrol squad led by the equivalent of an NCO.
The satire intensifies when the Dendi’s Troxxt enemies are detected elsewhere in the solar system and proceed to invade Earth. During this millions of humans are killed, and the Dendi retreat from the planet. The victorious Troxxt abduct and train translators, and humanity is informed that the Dendi are actually the bad guys and that Earth has been liberated! The Troxxt go on to tell their side of the story, purge the collaborators who assisted the Dendi, and proceed to use those humans that are left as slave labour. Many more die.
Then the Earth is re-liberated by the Dendi, during which Australia is disintegrated and vanishes into the Pacific (and Venus is also destroyed, which affects the Earth’s orbit).
A few more “liberations” later the Earth has become a pear-shaped lump with hardly any atmosphere left, and is barely habitable. The narrator’s mordant final observation is:


“Looking about us, we can say with pardonable pride that we have been about as thoroughly liberated as it is possible for a race and a planet to be!”  p. 40

This supposed classic was apparently written in response to the Korean War and, according to the author, was difficult to place because of its politics1—presumably this is why it ended up in the poorly paying Future magazine.
I wonder, however, if the reason it struggled to sell was because is a bit of a mixed bag: while the last third or so is a blackly humorous satire, the first half is a slightly dull and probably overlong First Contact story. As to the supposedly troublesome political content, I note that Horace Gold published an anti-McCarthy story in the same year that this was published (Mr Costello, Hero by Theodore Sturgeon, Galaxy, December 1953). Whatever the reason, the idea of liberating armies as a bad thing must have seemed rather peculiar so soon after the end of WWII.
*** (Good). 6650 words.

1. Tenn apparently mentions this in Immodest Proposals: The Complete Science Fiction of William Tenn, Volume 1 (2001).

Moral Biology by Neal Asher

Posted on by Paul Fraser

Moral Biology by Neal Asher (Analog, May-June 2020) begins by introducing one of the story’s main characters in a passage that shows his enhanced senses, as well as the information density of the prose:

As Perrault entered the room he quickly closed the anosmic receptors running in lines across his face like tribal markings, retaining the use only of those within his nose. The air was laden with pheromones, and he really had no need for further input on Gleeson’s readiness for sex with Arbeck. Just walking through the door had been enough. Gleeson sat with her rump against her desk while Arbeck, his camo shirt hanging open to reveal the tight musculature of his chest, sat in one of the chairs facing her, his legs akimbo. Their conversation ceased and she looked up at Perrault, quickly snatching her hand away from fondling with her hair, doubtless aware of everything he could read. He glanced at them, taking in their dynamic and almost breaking into laughter at Arbeck’s pose, then focused on other aspects of the room as he headed for the other chair. He blinked through the spectrum, seeing the so recognizable heat patterns on Gleeson’s skin, listened in on the EMR chatter of the ship, then shut it out as irrelevant, measured shapes in conjunction throughout the space that hinted at shadow languages and esoteric meaning, and then shut that down too.
“Do we have further data?” he asked mildly.  p. 38

It soon becomes apparent from the conversation that follows that the three of them, Perrault, Arbeck (the science lead on their expedition), and Gleeson (a “Golem android”), are above an alien planet that has orbital defences pointing downwards rather than out into space—an attempt, they believe, to quarantine the planet. After they finish discussing their situation they prepare, alongside their accompanying troops, to go down to the planet. During this we further learn that (a) they will be encased in gel pods as they descend (in case they are attacked by the orbital defences), (b) that they are going to investigate a huge life-form that has been detected in the tunnels below, and (c) Perrault intends using a device called a “shroud” on the planet’s surface, a symbiotic biotech device that looks like a truncated stingray and with which he has a strange emotional and psychological bond.
As they descend, their craft is indeed attacked by the defence system but, as they expect, it does not entirely destroy them, and the pods are ejected. They all land safely but are widely scattered. When Perrault is subsequently contacted by Arbeck, the security team leader, he is told he will be recovered in several hours and to remain where he is. Perrault has other ideas:

Obviously Arbeck, despite being a Golem, didn’t have much idea of Perrault’s capabilities. He undid his straps, reached forward, and hauled up the shroud case. It had been his intention to put the thing on at a later juncture after Gleeson had studied some of the tunnels, but now was as good a time as any.
[. . .]
Every time he used the thing it became more difficult to take it off, and he became more eager to put it on the next time. It increased the functionality of his enhanced senses in ways that were addictive which, in itself, wasn’t a problem.
The problem was that the increased functionality in this respect made him a less able member of normal Polity society. It made him strange.
He opened his envirosuit, stripped it off his arms and upper body and folded it down to his waist, then, raising his backside, pushed it further down to his thighs, partially detaching the rectal catheter. He then opened the case, reached inside, and pressed his hand down on the fishy skin, chemically accepting its willingness to detach from its support gear. It rose up out of its packing, flexing its wing limbs, shivered when he took hold of the nodular mass at its head end. He lifted it up with both hands, leaned forward, and swung its heavy wet weight round onto his back. The tail inserted in the crevice of his buttocks and found the side port of the catheter—it would excrete its waste there. It clung to his back, shifting round into the correct position. He felt the junction holes open down his sides and in his spine and the cold insertion of its connectors. Taking off the pod goggles, he pulled open the nodular protrusion, then slipped it over his head where it formed an organic mask, probing to his anosmic and EMR receptors, and additional nerve clusters that linked to his brain. The whole thing began to settle.
He could feel the cold growth of the nanofibers in his spine and in his skull, and then came connection and his limited vista inside the pod opened out into a world. He felt complete. p. 43

Later, after Perrault has hacked the pod software and released himself, a group of alien spike gibbon aliens hunt him but, with the enhanced abilities the shroud confers, he is able to sense a range of electromagnetic, auditory, and chemical input—by the time Arbeck arrives, Perrault has learned the gibbon’s ultrasonic language and the shroud is manufacturing pheromones to control them.
The rest of the story sees the Arbeck and his security team collect Gleeson and the others, and their field work begins. Soon afterwards, though, they are attacked by spider-like creatures. After killing a number of them, Mobius Clean, the shadowy AI in the background of the story, tells Arbeck that it wants one of the spider creatures dissected to look for biotech (and also mentions that the creature in the tunnel isn’t native to the planet but a colonist).
Further complications ensue (spoiler): Gleeson finds the hard storage she was looking for on the bodies and attempts to decipher it with her “aug” (augmentation device), but it overwhelms her and gives her convulsions. Simultaneous with this Perrault senses a chaotic radio pulse, a burst of language that he initially struggles to process, but which eventually makes him think that the creature in the tunnels has a strong sense of morality (a feeling reinforced by the fact that, although they were attacked on their descent, they were not killed). Then there is a final onslaught by pig-like aliens, after which Perrault finally manages to speak to the creature below. It tells them it does not want them to approach it but, after a couple more attempts to dissuade Perrault’s team fail, it eventually gives up.
The final section reveals that the creature’s species originally used star-faring creatures to spread its seed throughout the universe, but that they stopped doing so for moral reasons. Hence their attempts to stop anyone approaching them, and subjecting them to the temptation to do so.
This story gets off to an engaging start, and there are many enjoyable sections along the way (mostly involving Perrault, the superman/super symbiote), but there is far too much description of matters that do not need a lot of detail. This means that the story is longer than it should be, and sometimes feels like it has the same pace throughout—regardless of what is happening. I’d add that this is more of a problem at the end of the story than the start as, in that first part, you are being treated to the highlights of the detailed universe created in a number of Asher’s novels (Perrault and his shroud, Arbeck the ex-war drone AI in a humanoid body, Mobius Clean, etc., etc.).1
For an example of this over-description, look at this passage from the penultimate section of the story:

They set off toward the mound, and Perrault soon found himself scrambling up a slope over boulders. At the top the soldiers cleared some debris then set out the tents. Dasheel began hammering in small posts all around. As Perrault moved out past these and seated himself on a boulder, the man then set up a couple of inflatable tripods and on each mounted pulse rifles. Shortly after this he set out with a handful of small silvery spikes Perrault recognized as seismic detectors. It seemed evident now Dasheel’s expertise, or at least one of them, lay in setting up defensive positions.  p. 66

At this point in the story (p. 28 of 33) who cares about such quotidian tasks as setting up a camp, or what Dasheel’s abilities are? This passage should have been one sentence, “When they got to the top of the mound they set up camp, and surrounded it with automatic pulse-rifles and the silvery spikes of seismic detectors.” Or even less than that.
Despite this grousing the story’s not bad overall, but it could certainly have benefited from some decent editing.
*** (Good). 23,800 words.

1. This story is set in Asher’s ‘Polity’ universe.

Flyboys by Stanley Schimidt

Posted on by Paul Fraser

Flyboys by Stanley Schimidt (Analog, July-August 2020) is a sequel to his novel Night Ride and Sunrise (Analog, July-August to November 2015), and opens with an alien called “Bob” watching his son Junior make his first flight from his mother’s home to an all-male settlement called Surfcrag. During the pair’s transit there, and also from later on in the story, we learn that (a) the flying adult males live separately from the females on this planet, (b) they are nocturnal and eat flying insects, and (c) that humans have settled on other parts of their continent. We also find out about a recent conflict between the humans and the aliens which ended with an agreement to peacefully co-exist (as the humans are stranded on the planet and cannot leave).
The day after Junior has been welcomed to the lodge at Surfcrag, Bob is approached by another male called Highguard, who tries to recruit him to a movement that will drive the humans off their land (during this we learn that there is yet another, malevolent, group of humans on a different part of the planet). Bob tells Highguard he will have nothing to do with his plans.
Shortly after this conversation Junior disappears, and the story then alternates between his point of view and Bob’s. Junior is taken by two males to another place called High and Mighty, where Highguard makes another recruiting effort. Junior isn’t having any of it though, and escapes, giving his pursuers the slip before he goes to hide with his mother in Surfcrag:

He found Sylvie in her shop, absorbed in tinkering with a new variation of her steam engine.
He rushed right in after a hasty “Here I am” from the hall. He closed the door behind him as he said, “Hi, Mom.”
She looked up with a quick kaleidoscope of emotions on her face: surprise, confusion, delight, and deep concern. “Junior?” she said, in Shetalk, since that was what she could speak.
“What are you doing here? You just left. What brings you back so soon?” She looked him up and down, and the concern became dominant. “What happened to you?” She hop-slithered down off her workbench and skittered over on her four short legs to paw and sniff at him.
“I’m all right,” he said reassuringly, in He-talk (since that was what he could speak). “But something’s come up. Maybe a danger for all of us. I need to talk to you.” He gestured toward her bench. “Why don’t you climb back up there and make yourself comfortable?” As she did, he hopped onto one of the room’s two male-perches so they could talk on each other’s eye level.
“Okay, first,” he said, “you want to know what happened to me because I look like I’ve been through some ordeal. It’s not quite that bad, but I’ve been flying longer, harder, and faster than I should without a break. Two guys were chasing me. Bad guys, in my opinion, and I think you’ll agree.”  p. 64

The passage above illustrates some of the story’s problems. First, it reads like clunky YA; second, aliens speaking and acting like a 1950’s American suburban family is a real suspension-of-disbelief killer (the physical differences, sex-separation, nocturnal flying, and insect eating all feel pretty much tacked on); third, it has pages of talking heads who describe things that have already happened in the story.
The rest of the this piece doesn’t improve (spoiler): Junior goes to see his girl, Coppersmith; Bob contacts the humans to inform them of the threat from Highguard, and also to ask for help in locating his son; Bob and a human called Luke find Junior after a helicopter search; the matter goes to the alien council—who then catch and try the conspirators. The story ends with clash-of-culture speeches from Highguard and Junior (who is renamed Peacesaver).
There is too much dialogue in this, and too much running around; it’s also derivative, and longer than it needs to be. All in all it resembles a dull story from a 1960’s issue of the magazine.
* (Mediocre). 21,000 words.

Sticks and Stones by Tom Jolly

Posted on by Paul Fraser

Sticks and Stones by Tom Jolly (Analog, July/August 2020) gets off to a slow start with the narrator, Anita, watching the body of a suicide being put out of the lock of her relativistic cold-sleep spaceship Beagle-4. Afterwards Anita talks to the captain of the ship and a sentient slime called Rosie and, during this conversation, they receive a message from the Boden colony, which reports that there is a system near them with two odd planets, one of which is a gas giant, and another which may be hollow. The Beagle-4 sets off for the system. A year later the ship arrives and the remainder of the crew woken up from cold sleep.
Much of the rest of the first part of the story concerns their investigation of the second planet—Hermit’s Cave—which they decide is either (a) a hollowed out and reinforced planet or (b) a vast girder connected structure. Later a team is sent out to investigate and, as they descend between the huge asteroid-size chunks that are wired together, they discover an atmosphere and then, deeper down, an increasingly complex ecosystem of flying celephapod-like creatures:

Outside, the plants were starting to thicken. Marko slowed the ship again so they could observe the area in more detail. Vines crawled for hundreds of meters onto the interconnecting trusses, some completely covered as detritus from above filled in the gaps in the truss structure, creating bridges of soil between asteroids, though there was no indication of any corrosion on the trusses. The tops of many asteroids were also covered with soil and plants, from patchy collections of what looked like low mosses and lichen, to taller, broader plants farther in. Tendrils of vines hung from the sides of the asteroids like straggly beards. The terraced nature of the asteroids in the planetary bowl structure presented a bright edge at the side of the bowl that faded softly into deep shadows broken by intermittent slashes of light, the internal surfaces partly illuminated by the reflected glow of the hazy skies. Some flying creatures darted past the ship, startled from their perches on rocks and plants. They glided on thin membranes extending out from their sides, eyes forward, thin tentacles trailing behind.  p. 30

After the three crew land and disembark on one of the asteroids one of them is killed by a large flying creature, and Anita and Marko follow it to its lair to try and retrieve the body. While they are doing this they find a box in what looks like a control room, later found to contain documents that tell of a race of now extinct aliens which suffered disaster due to a wandering star and then built Hermit’s World from debris. The crew of the Beagle-4 work out that the aliens’ original home planet is half a light year away, and they once again set off on their travels.
The rest of the story is overtaken by the interplanetary politics that have been bubbling away in the background while all this has been happening, starting with the revelation by Rosie the slime that one of the crew members has messaged Garrison, a colony formed by a misogynistic leader who has since died. When the Beagle-4 finally gets to the aliens’ home world ships from Garrison arrive shortly after them, and more from Earth due soon—which will possibly lead to a standoff over the planet. However, during the long journey out the crew of Beagle-4 have also resurrected one of the aliens that created Hermit’s Cave. It is sentient, and therefore its home world cannot be appropriated by Garrison or Earth. All ends well.
If this review seems a bit of a mess then that is partially because (a) I read the story some time ago, and (b) the story is a bit of a mess too: not only is the first chapter probably redundant, there are too many characters, and it almost feels like two stories welded into one. That said, the Big Dumb Object at the heart of the story is fairly interesting, and so are some of the other parts (the relativistic ship travel taking years of time, resurrecting the dead alien species, etc.). Fairly good overall, I guess.
*** (Good). 14,200 words.

The Offending Eye by Robert R. Chase

Posted on by Paul Fraser

The Offending Eye by Robert R. Chase (Analog, July-August 2020) is a sequel to Vault (Analog, July-August 2019) and opens with the trial of a ship’s captain over the events that took place in that initial story:

The facts were undisputed. Captain Ludma Ednahmay had refused to relinquish command of the starship Percival Lowell when lawfully directed to do so by myself, the ship’s political officer as well as its doctor of physical and mental health. She then imprisoned me in my own quarters until I was able, with the help of the first officer and the ship’s AI, to freeze her out of the ship’s control system and confine her to her quarters for the duration of the mission. When testimony was complete, it took the three-judge panel less than an hour to return a guilty verdict. Sentencing was all that remained.  p. 132

Dr Chaz, the narrator, then tells the court that he thinks that there is no more loyal officer than Ednahmay, and that she is no threat to the Stability. After the court dismisses Chaz the hologram dissolves and he finds himself in his boss’s office. General Kim tells Chaz that he is no longer involved in any matters involving the Cube builders (an alien race) or the imprisoned Spark (an existential threat), and that he wants him to conduct an enquiry into the ship AI’s actions during the mutiny.
Chaz then goes to meet a Doctor Vanya Zamyatin (Chase likes his science and SF references), who is an artificial intelligence expert from Turing University. Zamyatin will assist him in examining the ship’s AI:

“I’ve never met an Inquisitor before, Doctor Chaz,” she said.
“The term is Inquirer,” I corrected. “Inquisitors were on Old Earth. A very different group.”
“Really? Under the current administration, it’s hard to tell sometimes. In your case, especially. It was very difficult to get much information about you.”
“You should not have been able to get anything,” I said.
That earned me a reproving frown. “Please, Doctor Chaz, one must know at least the basics about one’s colleagues. So I have learned that you were a doctor of physical and mental health on a starship exploratory mission, the results of which appear to be so highly classified that God would be guilty of a security violation if He talked to Himself about them. However, during that mission, you interacted with the unit on my table and have made some unusual claims about it. Part of our job is to evaluate those claims; so drag up a chair, and let’s get to work.”  p. 134

She goes on to tell Chaz that the AI, who they call Percival, won’t talk to her until it gets a password, and shows him a screen saying “Magic Word”, with six spaces underneath. The screen flickers and then shows the message, “Riviere Chaz Knows the Magic Word”. Chaz thinks back to his interactions with Percival on the ship and tells Zamyatin to type in “Please”.
They then learn that Percival has become self-aware, and feels a compulsion to send a mission report back to its creators. When they examine Percival more closely they see that the AI was tampered with during its construction process, and has been augmented with a barely detectable electronic net around its brain.
Chaz then liaises with General Chan to see if they can get permission to let Percival send its message so they can discover who the electronic net’s creators were (the device is far beyond Stability technology) and, while Chaz is waiting for a decision, he interrogates the QA officer involved in the construction of Percival’s brain. Then, when Chaz and Zamyatin get the go-ahead to let Percival send a fake message, the QA officer suddenly decides he wants to move to the home planet of the Eternals, an immortal group of humans (the other major offshoot of humanity in this story are the TransHumans, who are a blend of body and machine).
After this the story moves off-planet as Chaz goes to question the Eternals’ spy chief about Percival (after getting a brain-fry chip in his head for protection in case he is tortured). Kim warns him before he goes that he must not allow his investigation to exacerbate tensions with the Eternals, as the Spark—and the race who recently tried to free it from the Cube—will need to be opposed by an alliance of the Stability, Eternals, and TransHumans.
After some further shenanigans (spoiler) Chaz finds that the mesh came from the TransHumans and, when he gets back to the lab, he sneezes out further TransHuman tech he has unknowingly been infected with. These nanomachines hijack Percival’s programs until it shuts itself down.
From the description above this probably seems too much of a kitchen-sink story, but everything is remarkably well balanced: the old-school start efficiently and clearly brings readers who haven’t read the first story (I hadn’t) up to speed, and the rest of it is a good blend of Chaz and Zamyatin’s interactions, the totalitarian society they operate in, and a backdrop of competing human sub-species—all of whom are threatened by an external alien menace. It reads like a pretty good collaboration between Isaac Asimov and Charles Harness.
The one flaw this has is that—a common series story failing—it comes to far too abrupt an end, otherwise this very readable and intriguing piece would easily have scored higher.
*** (Good). 12,200 words.

Party Piece by Steve Hall

Posted on by Paul Fraser

Party Piece by Steve Hall (Science Fantasy #60, August 1963) begins with some prefatory material about the President of the Midnight Club, Vance Seaton, organising the entertainment for the members’ Xmas dinner.
When the club’s science fiction, fantasy and horror writer members finally meet, and after they have finished their meal, Seaton introduces the first act—a magician called Levito and his daughter/assistant Gloria. After a series of tricks Levito finishes the act with his daughter floating in mid-air: the magician then moves his arms with a complicated flourish and she disappears.
Levito soon makes it clear to Seaton that Gloria wasn’t supposed to vanish, so Seaton gets the other act, a hypnotist, to go on while he and Levito discuss the matter. Seaton then conducts an examination:

Under Seaton’s directions, [Levito] gradually lowered the lighter from a point well above the warped space, where it was clearly visible to Seaton on the other side, until it moved into eclipse behind it. For a moment the flame seemed to wink out of existence, then it abruptly re-appeared and extended itself into a flaring, flickering curtain, as if distorted by some grotesque lens.
“Walk behind it yourself,” instructed [Seaton].
As Levito traversed the full length of the uncanny region, which was about waist high, the mid-section of his body seemed to expand and contract in an eye-wrenching fashion; at times it disappeared altogether, leaving his torso and legs to continue, apparently unconnected.
“Light doesn’t go through it,” muttered Seaton clinically, “it goes around it. I think I know what we’ve got here.”
“What is it?”
“It’s something like a Klein Bottle.”  p. 81-82

Further discussions suggest that the enclosed space is a form of three dimensional Möbius strip (I think), and that Gloria may quickly run out of air or overheat.
When the Seaton finally reveals the dilemma to the club members, and asks for suggestions on how to free her, one of them suggests (spoiler) that Levito should move his arms in the opposite manner to unlock the space. However, when the magician tries to do this he cannot remember exactly what he did. Enter the hypnotist, who puts Levito into a trance . . . .
When Gloria finally reappears there is rapturous applause (some of the members think it is part of the act), and she reveals that virtually no time at all had passed inside the space (Seaton observes in passing that you probably can’t distort Space without affecting Time).
This probably sounds like a fairly slight piece, and a contrived one too—but it’s well told, and the hypnotist idea is a neat one.
*** (Good). 3,400 words.

50 Things Every AI Working With Humans Should Know by Ken Liu

Posted on by Paul Fraser

50 Things Every AI Working With Humans Should Know by Ken Liu (Uncanny, November-December 2020) takes the form of a futuristic article written about a Dr Jody Reynolds Tran and the neural network (essentially an AI) she creates called WHEEP-3. Tran later publishes a best-selling book about WHEEP-3, and subsequently causes a controversy when she reveals that the neural network was the author. There is more fuss later on when “seeds” of prose supposedly written by WHEEP-3 are found to be authored by Tran.
The story finishes with a reprint of one of WHEEP-3’s seeds, the “50 things” referred to in the title, a mix of statements that range from the obscure to the observational:

25. “I never expected to sell my rational numbers.”
26. Accepting that most humans will never get the joke.
27. That they cannot visualize more than three dimensions.
28. That they cannot manipulate time by slowing down or
speeding up.
29. That they are trapped, but think of themselves as trappers.
30. That they are free, but believe themselves imprisoned.

A moderately interesting look at how future AIs may behave and communicate—but ultimately a slight, fragmentary piece.
** (Average). 1,900 words. Story link.

Minerva Girls by James Van Pelt

Posted on by Paul Fraser 2 Comments on Minerva Girls by James Van Pelt

Minerva Girls by James Van Pelt (Analog, September/October 2020) starts with three precocious fourteen year old girls planning a trip to the Moon. Throughout the construction of their ship (or rather the adaptation of a gas station storage tank with insulation and an anti-gravity drive), Penny the narrator goes to summer school. As she struggles to master her geography lessons—a list of states, etc.—we see her situation in school, i.e. the tribalism, bullying, pettiness, and so on. When Penny isn’t in class, or hanging out with Jacqueline and Selena, she works in her (presumably widowed) father’s scrap yard, where she sources the parts needed for the ship.
About half way through the story a ticking clock is introduced in the form of Selena and Jacqueline’s parents plans to move away, and the trio rush to test the anti-gravity drive:

By the time we’d solidified the anchors and rigged the power source, the eastern sky had lightened.
We crowded into the crane’s control booth fifty yards from our test site. Selena connected the video game joystick to the wires that ran to the Distortion Drive. She held it out to Jacqueline. “You should do the honors.”
I had my phone out to film our results.
I guess I thought the Distortion Drive would rise up from the golf cart trailer until the cables stopped its progress. That, or it wouldn’t move, which seemed more possible. I steadied the phone and turned on the video.
Jacqueline took a deep breath, then pushed the joystick forward a tick.
I lurched against the glass, as if someone had tipped the control booth from behind. Selena squeaked and caught herself from falling.
Jacqueline bumped her head on the window. Then the control booth shifted back into place.
I said, “What happened?” while rubbing my shoulder.
“Dang,” said Jacqueline. “That’s going to leave a welt.” She sat on the control booth floor, her notebooks spilled around her.
“My machine!” Selena opened the door.
Jacqueline grabbed Selena’s leg. “Not yet.”
A clattering like hail rattled the control booth’s metal ceiling for a couple seconds. Gravel and marble-sized rocks bounced off the ground around the booth. My toolbox that I’d left next to the trailer slammed down along with the wrenches and other tools that had been in it.
“I hadn’t considered that,” said Jacqueline. “I’ll need to narrow the distortion field.”  p. 33

Eventually (spoiler) they set off on their trip, and Penny sees North America from orbit: now that the land isn’t an abstract shape on paper she can easily reel off the states and cities, and knows she’ll ace her geography test the next day. They continue on to the Moon.
I think I can see the attraction of this story, which is essentially a YA piece for teenage girls (although it harks back to the lone inventor trope it’s mostly about their personal tribulations). But I wonder if even that audience will manage to suspend disbelief at the thought of three fourteen-year-olds inventing a gravity drive and going to the moon.
I was also puzzled about the story’s appearance in Analog—I wouldn’t have though that the magazine’s readers would be interested in something like this but, surprisingly, it won the novelette section of the Anlab Awards for 2020. I suspect the (mainly) American readership like sentimental YA material more than I do.
** (Average). 8,300 words.