'Nathan Burgoine's Blog, page 58

Short Stories 366:22 — “1965,” by Edmée Pardo

[image error]One of the major strengths of the stories in People of Colo(u)r Destroy Science Fiction is the range. Some of the stories are heavily sci-fi, others a lighter spec-fic touch, and “1965” lands firmly there on the lighter end of the scale.

That’s not a criticism, which I hope is clear, as Pardo spins an engrossing tale of a daughter and her mother (and her sister), as well as her best friend, and spins a delicate narrative in the relationships alongside the timing of a scientific moments relating to Mars. As the daughter watches her mother move from wishing to peace in this world to wishing to see another world to truly believing (in the Mulder sense), there’s a kind of embarrassed love at play. Her mother hasn’t had an easy life, what’s the cost of belief, really, as long as no one is harmed?

Then her childhood best friend moves in with her mother, and they share this belief, and then something happens that takes that step into potential spec-fic, and the whole comes together with such an understated completeness that it satisfies even as things are left as they are. Family, friendships, belief, peace… it’s all there, and it’s told with such a feather touch in places. “1965” charms.

Short Stories 366:21 — “Destroy the City with Me Tonight,” by Kate Alice Marshall

[image error]I love superheroes, as we all likely know by now. When I picked up The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2018 when I was in San Francisco, I wasn’t expecting anything close to a superhero story, and then I bumped into “Destroy the City with Me Tonight” and it was kinda/sorta a superhero story and I was there.

Calling “Destroy” a superhero story isn’t actually fair. It’s about a woman diagnosed with a very particular illness—as it progresses, it stops her from being recognized, remembered, or even noticed, and also ties her to a specific city. It has that hazy feel of spec-fic between horror and sci-fi and contemporary fantasy, and it’s so well done. As time passes, her fingerprints fade, even her reflection stops appearing. Others like her with this illness tend to wear masks and outfits—the only way they can be recognized at all—and gain a kind of notoriety in various cities where they exist, alone and unnoticed by anyone when not wearing their masks. The disease does leave them incredibly tough to kill, and many of those with the disease use their “invisibility” to police those who do terrible things… hence my “superhero” button getting happily pressed.

The story hinges on so many little pieces I don’t want to spoil, but suffice it to say I really, really enjoyed this, and I loved the idea so much. The main character, her first encounter with another of her kind (face to face), how things get complicated, and the revelation of two ways out she’d never considered before? Yowza. So engrossing. Frankly, I’d love to see this one as a movie or graphic novel (or both, I’m greedy).

Short Stories 366:20 — “The Frequency of Compassion,” by A. Merc Rustad

[image error]Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction is fast becoming one of my top-ten favourite anthologies, and “The Frequency of Compassion” is a prime example of why. Kaityn is on a six-month solo scouting mission with nothing by an AI as a companion, and is dreading the six-month off-rotation coming their way.

Empathic and autistic, Kaityn has the perfect disposition for the job—enduring the endless silence isn’t enduring when you enjoy and prefer it, and the company they work for has the benefit of Kaityn helping to map out the galaxy. Everybody wins, except for the aforementioned rotation thing, where the rules will take Kaityn off the job for six months. The AI is amusing, borderline commiserating with Kaityn and understanding their situation, and then something happens that sends them both into action: potential first contact.

While this is where the action picks up (and it’s a really good story about assumptions counterpointed with some of Kaityn’s history played in flashback) and I won’t ruin it, for the first contact portion of the story was more or less icing on the cake of Kaityn’s character, and the whole made for a wonderful—and sweet—resolution. Even the ending is shaped by their characterization, and that brought the whole back to the starting position in a way that never felt forced.

Short Stories 366:19 — “Collected Likenesses,” by Jamey Hatley

[image error]Oh wow, was this story powerful. Told in tiny chapters, this is the story of a black woman, her former-slave grandmother, and scars, time, connections, and legacies. The speculative element here is at once liberating and smothering. The entire tale feels like that: push and pull, oppositions in a kind of balance that refuses to be one thing without also being the opposite. Here, a granddaughter inherits the cutouts her grandmother has made of all those who have harmed her. Here, a granddaughter learns what is done to those cutouts will have consequence to those who hurt her grandmother, or those closest kin to those people who still live.

It’s a bequest and a request both, and it’s not done without pain. Burn a cutout, and the grandmother will burn also, but what is delivered to the person in question is far, far worse. This is somewhere between justice and vengeance, and the granddaughter begins her duty at the same time as she tries to navigate a way to some personal freedoms.

What follows is a story that left me completely captivated while winding ever-tighter anxiousness around me as a reader. I knew it couldn’t end happily—every word and the very tone of the story made that clear from the start—but I didn’t want to stop, and I absolutely wanted to see where it would go. And in the end, those cutouts delivered so perfectly on their history of pain. This was such an amazing speculative fiction story, and Long Hidden: Speculative Fiction from the Margins of History continues to be fantastic.

Short Stories 366:18 — “How to Say I Love You with Wikipedia,” by Beth Goder

[image error]I am so far behind in my Fireside Fiction collection I’m not even sure I’ve downloaded them all. But if you’re in the mood for a quick cuteness injection (alongside a small tonne of feels) I suggest you take a second to hop on over to their site and read Beth Goder’s “How to Say I Love You with Wikipedia.” I’ll wait right here for you to get back, and I’ll open my arms for a quick snuggle-hug in case you need it when you get back.

Back? Okay. 1-2-3, hug. There. Okay, how freaking adorable was that? I mean, science fiction and sentimentality isn’t often a pairing I see, so this was a lovely and refreshing change. More, Goder put so much emotionality and sweetness into a wee Mars rover (and the astronauts) and the communication attempts through pictures? I mean, aww. So much aww.

It’s a short piece, but it’s such a fantastic example of one of the things I love the most about science fiction: the way emotionality/humanity can be explored outside of us, but with us, and for us. In this tiny space of words, I was so worried that poor little guy was going to be left behind without them ever knowing he had feels—and then Goder takes it to a different place instead, and the payoff is all worth it. Good luck, wee Rover. Be efficient.

Short Stories 366:17 — “The Unfathomable Sisterhood of Ick” by Charlie Jane Anders

[image error]I walked the dog a little bit extra while I listened to this story (Max says thank you, Charlie Jane Anders) to give you an idea of how quickly I fell into this narrative and how much I wanted to see where it was going. Set in a future that’s still quite recognizable, the main point of this tale, from Women Destroy Science Fiction, is a broken up relationship intersecting with a new kind of technology.

Ot at least, that’s how it seems at first. To me, the story instead became about how selective our memories are (or can be), and how we need the whole to understand the parts and how friendships and relationships and self-identities all intersect in a giant, tangled mess of psyches, and being able to truly understand another point of view wouldn’t necessarily untangle that snarl. It’s also about friendship, and a level of forgiveness I’ll never personally attain.

While there was one scene between the women that made me sigh in my tired queer guy reading a story set in the future way—oh look, we’re still like this—it’s not like it wasn’t realistic, it was just that little slice of depressing ‘how far we still have to go’ and the story had me captivated throughout. I would have loved to keep going, just a little bit more, which is always a great way to feel at the end of a short story.

Short Stories 366:16 — “After the Deluge,” by Peter Golubock

[image error]If a post-apocalyptic pirate story set in the long-flooded New York sounds like something you’d enjoy, Scourge of the Seas of Time (and Space) has you covered with Peter Golubock’s tale of the Pizza Rat, a pirate ship preying on those who ply the waters above what was New York City (which is still there, only now mostly underwater and built upwards with an even greater divide between the haves and the have-nots).

The world-building here is key, and I really enjoyed the little nods: LaGuardia Bay, the avenues and streets becoming waterways, and even a pirate meeting atop the crown of the Statue of Liberty. The cultural divide between those with power and money and those without has left crews like that of the Pizza Rat more than willing to turn to theft and murder to get by.

After a score goes south, one of the Pizza Rat’s spies serves up a tempting alternative: a barge mostly unguarded (to avoid drawing attention) will be taking one of the wealthy’s fine china and other goods south for the beach season. And the Pizza Rat is ready to take it all—assuming it all goes to plan. Which it never does. Fast-paced and really grim and gritty, “After the Deluge” doesn’t pull punches—after all, it’s the post-apocalypse.

Short Stories 366:15 — “Delhi” by Vandana Singh

[image error]Oh wow, this story. People of Colo(u)r Destroy Science Fiction delivers yet again. First, the concept of it is such a clever little wrinkle: a man, Aseem, can see glimpses of other times. For a long while, it was just assumed he was mentally ill; he was hallucinating of course, and as such his life sort of spirals a bit out of alignment. But he starts to realize this isn’t the case, and can even interact with the little schisms in time, which is where the story takes off.

Even with the awareness he is as sane as anyone else, the character, in Singh’s hands, still struggles with the reality of what he can see—and the limitations on what it might mean. The titular Delhi isn’t just the setting for the story, but a character in and of itself, an encompassing whole that seems to live and breathe (and suffer and struggle and rise and maybe fall) with Aseem sort of powerless beyond his glimpses of different times and the people therein.

There’s another layer on top of this, where Aseem encounters someone who gives him more of a purpose and a sense of something he can control, and that carries Aseem throughout the tale, and the journey is just freaking awesome. This was a short story that felt like a novel, and I would have happily continued for pages and pages more. It was moving, and I had such empathy for Aseem throughout.

 

Short Stories 366:14 — “Rivers Run Free,” by Charles Payseur

[image error]I’m not sure what the prose equivalent is of a standing ovation, but that’s what I want to open this with. This was absolutely pitch-perfect. “Rivers Run Free” is the opening tale in The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2018 anthology, and holy flying crap what a way to start. Seriously. Just… I mean… magic. Again, that whole standing ovation thing.

To be more eloquent about it, though, what we’ve got here is a mythology built on a simple enough concept: rivers can, if they so desire, form themselves into humanoid beings—it’s dangerous, it costs them so much, but it’s possible. And humanity in the form of the Luteans (an empire of sorts) has of course figured out a way to completely use (and abuse) them in this form, enslaving them to power gears and turn wheels and provide power until the rivers are spent and broken and die. Dowsers are the slavers, hunting down rivers wherever they can find them, to drag them back to Lutea, and we join the story with a group of rivers running from them, about to desperately gamble for their continued freedom.

What follows is a tale of how ugly humanity can be, and through Payseur’s telling there is a brilliant “layered otherness” lens to it. The rivers use varied pronouns, there is queerness here, and even among their own there is need to hide facets of themselves. There is so much pain and potential hopelessness in this tale, but Payseur gives just enough to the reader that at the end I was nodding to myself. So I stand and applaud.

Proof of Concept

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Back in 2018, I did a monthly flash fiction draw. Three draws from a deck of cards to get a writing prompt of: genre, setting, and object. 1,000 words, and a flash fiction story in the

chosen genre, set in the chosen setting, including the chosen object.

Well, this year, Cait Gordon picked up the torch, and the first draws were science fiction, a castle, and a tea or coffee press. You can check out the draw over on her blog, as well as her story. She’ll do a round-up blog as well, which I’ll edit to add once it’s up!

My tale, “Proof of Concept,” is a lighthearted one, and I hope you enjoy. It also let me play around a bit with an idea or two I’m considering incorporating into another story, most specifically the nanotech stuff (and the EI companions people can have implanted via nanotech into their heads).

Proof of Concept

After seeing the bricks, Marino considered pretending he hadn’t. It was hard enough being in charge, something he’d previously only done when he’d taken night duty on long trips. There were two other people ahead of him in command if their captain were to fall.

Instead, Marino knelt down and ran a hand over the flat, white stone. It felt exactly how it looked: plain rock, but the measurements, especially the perfectly curved edges and the complete consistency of colour, made it clear this hadn’t been mined or chiseled.

This was made.

“What do you think, should I ask?” Marino said.

“I imagine he will tell you gleefully.” His EI responded aloud. They could communicate silently, but since the death of so many, Marino preferred voices.

He turned and walked back to their camp.

Their camp.

It sounded better than “crash site.”

*

During afternoon break, to wind down most of the crew went swimming in the nearby bay, or had a cutthroat game of tekeball, but so far as Marino had seen thus far, Luca Accola didn’t take part in either. So once everyone left what they generously called Mess, Marino fed his leftovers into the recycler and waited for Accola to notice he wasn’t alone.

It took five minutes.

“Sir,” Accola said, once he looked up from his pad. “Is… Is everything okay?” His face flushed. Marino fought hard to keep a smile in check. Accola knew he’d been caught, and his bluff was abysmal.

“Bricks,” Marino said.

“Flagstones. Foundation,” Accola said. He held up his pad, as though somehow two words would be enough.

“Care to elaborate?” It wasn’t a request.

Accola bit his lip. “I… I didn’t want to bother you, in case it wasn’t viable, but it is, and I had to do something, with projections so long term—I mean, you know that. I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know…”

“Accola.” Marino softened his voice. “You’re not telling me anything at all.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Is it nanotech?” Marino cut to the root of the problem. “Because you know we need all the nanotech for the ship.”

The ship. More words denying reality. They had a wreck. They needed a ship.

“Well,” Accola said. “That’s the thing. Not all the nanotech.” The slim man flinched, as though disagreeing hurt.

Marino waited.

“They’re baseline models,” Accola said. “I only took a few, and I’ve already replaced those with the ones they built from local materials.”

“I thought we couldn’t make more?” Marino said. Their limited nanotech meant their dismal timeline.

“We can’t, not nanos capable of most of the things we need, not without systems we don’t have access to yet—I’ve prioritized those, of course—but if we’re going to be here for almost a year, I mean, that’s a long time and I thought—well, I hoped, but it turned out I was right, so—”

“Accola.”

“Sorry.” Accola blew out a breath. “We can build here without messing up our schedule. My colony of nanotech out there will give us something better than this. I did proof of concept. For you. Only you saw the flagstones before I could talk to you, so I guess this ruins the surprise, but…” Accola went to the storage lockers along the back of the emergency shelter and opened one.

Marino stared at what he pulled out.

“Is that..?” Marino didn’t finish the sentence before Accola was nodding and speaking again.

“A press. I know you like tea.” He was blushing again, and Marino realized maybe he’d been misreading the man. Not that he wasn’t nervous, just why.

“You made that with your nanotech. None assigned to repairs.” He needed to be sure.

“Absolutely.” Accola nodded. “It’s only a step or two above basic print, really, once you program the colony. Scaling up is just a matter of time. Growing local, I can have this done in under a month, before the projected winter. Better than bunking up in escape pods and what’s left of the shuttles.”

Accola held up the pad again.

Marino crossed the mess, staring at the image. He could practically hear Accola’s heartbeat jackhammering beside him.

“Accola?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Does it have to be this particular colour?”

“No, sir.”

“You can call me Roberto, Accola.”

“Oh. Okay, sir. I mean…Roberto.”

*

Marino woke, and reached out. He was alone in the bed. A glance told him he was alone in his quarters, too.

“Let me guess,” he said aloud. “The mess?”

His EI confirmed. “Luca Accola is in the mess hall.”

Marino tugged on pants and walked barefoot through the castle. They’d tried calling it anything else for weeks after Luca’s colonies grew it out of the ground, but nothing else stuck. Passing a narrow window, he saw the ship, nearly whole.

Luca didn’t notice him. His gaze fixed to his pad, he tapped away, talking to his EI, who answered in a low audio that always sounded to Marino like it was trying to calm Luca down.

Marino used their first—and in Marino’s opinion, best—tea press to brew up a pot. He brought a tray to where Luca sat and put his hand on the man’s shoulder.

Luca looked up at him, and smiled. Marino knew all Luca’s smiles. He’d enjoyed learning that Luca smiled at all, then discovered a whole lexicon of them.

“Good news, then,” Marino said. He poured them both a cup, and handed one to Luca, nodding at him to take a sip.

Luca swallowed some of the tea. Their latest crop was particularly good.

“I can shave another two weeks off rebuild.” Luca said. “It’s complicated, and I know these models got us this far, but I think—”

Marino lifted his mug and drank, waiting.

Luca bit his lip. “Maybe I should explain this in the morning?”

“Tell me now,” Marino said. “Then come back to bed.”

Luca grinned. “It’s actually more like two and a half weeks, but I rounded down…”