Jody After the War by Edward Bryant (Orbit #10, 1972) opens with the narrator and Jody walking on a mountainside trail until they get to a picnic site overlooking Denver (one of the cities that survived a nuclear war). During this we get some backstory about the conflict, learn how the couple met, and see them discuss her PTSD and unwillingness to have children because of what she saw at one of the target cities.
Eventually, after munching through more related angst and the picnic, the narrator tells her he knows what he is letting himself in for and that he still wants marry her and move to Seattle.
A short slice-of-life/relationship fragment. Early-ish Bryant; he would do better work than this.
* (Mediocre). 2,200 words. Story link.
Baby, You Were Great by Kate Wilhelm
Baby, you Were Great by Kate Wilhelm (Orbit #2, 1967) opens with John Lewisohn going to an audition studio where his partner, Herb Javits, is auditioning actresses. Lewisohn (the passive viewpoint character of the piece) dons a VR helmet and watches the first audition, which starts with a young woman alone in a room:
She took a hesitant step toward the couch, and a wire showed trailing behind her. It was attached to her head. At the same time a second door opened. A young man ran inside, slamming the door behind him; he looked wild and frantic. The girl registered surprise, mounting nervousness; she felt behind her for the door handle, found it and tried to open the door again. It was locked. John could hear nothing that was being said in the room; he only felt the girl’s reaction to the unexpected interruption. The wild-eyed man was approaching her, his hands slashing through the air, his eyes darting glances all about them constantly. Suddenly he pounced on her and pulled her to him, kissing her face and neck roughly. She seemed paralyzed with fear for several seconds, then there was something else, a bland nothing kind of feeling that accompanied boredom sometimes, or too-complete self-assurance. As the man’s hands fastened on her blouse in the back and ripped it, she threw her arms about him, her face showing passion that was not felt anywhere in her mind or in her blood.
“Cut!” Herb Javits said quietly. p. 20
They subsequently audition a few more women until they get one who provides the emotional output they require for their virtual reality productions (this is why the lead is attached to their heads). After this set-up scene, the two men then discuss the problems they are having with the current star of their VR reality show, Anne Beaumont.
The rest of the piece involves the men flying out to meet Beaumont and, as they interact, we see Javits’ manipulative behaviour. When she threatens to quit, we learn that Javits has been paying the current love of her life to perform that role. We also discover that they have been recording her life and emotions on a 24 hour basis for the last month or so.
The story closes with Lewisohn scuttling back to his room to experience her feed, which underlines his role in the story as a passive observer, similar to that of Anne Beaumont’s fans, or the reader of this story.
This is a little on the dull side to be honest, and a rather too earnest examination of media power dynamics and the possible downsides of new technology. I also thought that Javits’ character was a little over-egged (yes, even after Weinstien).
There were a number of stories like this in the seventies (which is why perhaps it didn’t grab me), and they generally took a dystopian view of people being “plugged in” for extended periods of time. But if your quality of life is poor due to your physical health, poverty, age, or even a lack of imagination, what would be so bad about living a vicarious life? Isn’t that one of the reasons we read?
** (Average)