Category: Tobias S. Buckell

Toy Planes by Tobias S. Buckell

Toy Planes by Tobias S. Buckell (Nature, 13th October 2005) begins with the pilot of a rocket plane that is about to be launched from an “island nation” having his dreadlocks cut off by his sister:

I’d waited long enough. I’d grown dreads because when I studied in the United States I wanted to remember who I was and where I came from as I began to lose my Caribbean accent. But the rocket plane’s sponsor wanted them cut. It would be disaster for a helmet not to have a proper seal in an emergency. Explosive decompression was not something a soda company wanted to be associated with in their customers’ minds. It was insulting that they assumed we couldn’t keep the craft sealed. But we needed their money. The locks had become enough a part of me that I winced when the clippers bit into them, groaned, and another piece of me fell away.

The next part of the story follows the pilot to the local market where he buys a toy plane to make up weight for the mission. During the journey the driver suggests that the money spent on the spaceship could be better spent on roads or schools, but the pilot sidesteps the question by saying that most of the money has come from private investors or advertisers, and very little from the government (and that the latter will eventually be repaid).
The final paragraphs describe his embarkation, and the balloon used to get to launch altitude. The story closes with the line “We’re coming up too”.
This is an overly fragmentary piece but perhaps it will appeal more to those who appreciate its atypical (“diverse”) setting. I’d note, however, that this is as much a story about private space flight and as such is part of a long tradition of in SF.1  
** (Average). 1,000 words. Story link.

1. Robert Heinlein’s Waldo, The Man Who Sold the Moon, etc., were published in the early 1940s.

Scar Tissue by Tobias S. Buckell

Scar Tissue by Tobias S. Buckell (Slate, 30th May 2020) opens with the protagonist telling his friend Charlie that he thinks that he has made a huge mistake:

“You need the money.” [Charlie says.]
[. . .]
“Everyone needs the money.” You swig the cheap beer that’s the best either of you can manage. You can’t wait to afford something from one of those smaller local breweries nearby.
“But . . .”
You’ve been on disability since the forklift accident. The apartment’s small, but Enthim Arms is nice. The shared garden out back, the walking trails. You can’t use them as much as you’d like right now, but that physical therapist keeps saying June is when you might be able to make it to the lake and back.
It’ll hurt, but you’ve never cared so much about seeing a mediocre quarry lake before.
“Advent Robotics will pay me more money to raise it than I made at the warehouse, and I can keep focusing on recovery while doing it.” You raise your hand and flex it. A low battery alert blinks on your wrist. Plus, the bonus at the end will give you enough to afford something only the rich usually can: regrowing your forearm and your leg. Like a damn lizard. The biolabs that do that are so far out of your reach you normally wouldn’t even consider it.

It materialises that Advent Robotics is paying for the protagonist to raise a newly created robot, which, when it wakes in its pre-language, pre-memory state, acts like a baby—it smashes a coffee table on awakening, constantly has to be taken back to its power charging platform, copies the protagonist when he punches the wall in sleep-deprived frustration, etc.
The rest of the story sees the robot (now called Rob) rapidly grow up (the entire growth process, from switch on to maturity, is essentially an analog for having a normal child, i.e. the robot quickly changes from an uncomprehending baby stage to an argumentative teenager). During this process (spoiler) the protagonist attempts to deal with his own Daddy and other therapy issues while attempting to continue with his physical rehabilitation, during which he has a heart attack. Rob helps him recover.
At the end of the story the protagonist bonds further with robot after Rob complains about his plan to get rid of the prosthetics and regrow his limbs (“Have you ever thought about how I feel?”). The plan is abandoned, and the protagonist matches Rob’s subsequent scrimshaw on his prosthetics with tattoos on the skin above, and he later gets a prosthetic heart as well.
The idea of a robot growing up like a human is a neat idea, and it’s well developed, but the story is essentially about the protagonist healing himself mentally and bodily. Those who like works about emo characters (and the second person narration plays to that aspect) will probably appreciate this one more than me.
*** (Good). 5,050 words. Story link.