Jake Jackson's Blog, page 12

Dialogues | Waiting for Hunter

Bain and Shi Xin wait for Hunter to emerge from the dark night. They’ve been at the rendezvous for several hours and begin to wonder if he intends to meet them at all. Bain is standing up, shaking his human arm, trying to loosen the boredom from his veins. Shi Xin remains still, an oasis in the whirl of Bain’s anxiety, her long legs and black jump suit wrapped languidly around the rock-hewn chair. Behind them a troupe of off-world traders repeatedly gamble their winnings. Shouts of triumph and misery resonate through the cavern and cast through the entrance where Bain and Shi Xin hail for their seventh coffee of the night from the cart nearby. The android reaches across to pour a perfectly calibrated potion into the re-useable mugs, as Bain nods, then sighs dramatically.

The time does not matter, nor the year.

Shi Xin: You waste so much energy.

Bain: I know. I can’t help it. I’m not built for hanging around like this, too impulsive!

Shi Xin: Just sit down for a little and relax. Honestly, it’s much easier. Try some meditation.

Bain: Come on, do I look as though I’d try meditation!?

Shi Xin: No, but you look as though you’d benefit from it!

They lapse into silence, in what has become a familiar rhythm between them, short bursts of hectoring, a lack of resolution, followed by an absence of words.

Bain: So did he really not tell you where he was going?

Shi Xin: I think I mentioned a few times now, he did not.

Bain, shrugs and its his hands: Okay, I know, just trying to open a conversation.

Shi Xin: Well, try something different.

Bain: Um, are you really not tempted to join the traders back there?

Shi Xin: You mean apart from their excessive drinking, misogyny, loud chanting of meaningless phrases and inane squabbling over a game of chance which enriches some at the expense of the others?

Bain: Okay, yes, it’s not very you.

Shi Xin: Is it you then?

Bain: Well, it might have been once.

Shi Xin: Before you lost the arm?

Bain: Oh, speak your mind, why don’t you!

Shi Xin: Sorry, I didn’t realise that was insensitive.

Bain: Don’t worry, I’m only joking. It’s just that nobody really mentions it, unless they want something from it.

Shi Xin: What do you mean?

Bain: Hmm, it’s more than just a metal arm. Obviously it can withstand extremes of heat, but it contains some of my DNA and I can summon objects, create them by thinking.

Shi Xin: But that’s incredible.

Bain: Hah. It’s not as easy at it sounds! It’s exhausting to do it.

Shi Xin: What sort of things?

Bain: Um, obvious things like keys and guns, and money, other stuff too.

Shi Xin: So, it takes the fun out of being a thief then!

Bain, sitting down, finally: Those days are long gone. Since being with Hunter he’s shamed me into a different way of life.

Shi Xin: Glad to hear that!

Bain: Oh, I’d hate to think you’d be as sanctimonious as Hunter.

Shi Xin: He’s ascetic, rather than sanctimonious I remember one of your discussions with him, he enjoys taking the contrary view. He seemed to be teaching, rather than preaching.

Bain: Maybe. I just hate it that he’s always right.

Shi Xin: D’you think he’d say the same?

Bain: That he was always right?

Shi Xin: No, that you hate it that he’s always right!

Bain: Oh, so you think he is!

Shi Xin: Well, his perspective is different from us, so he seems more objective.

Bain: We only talk about the big stuff, human condition, differences between species, and robots, survival, truth and beauty. It was the only way I could make him talk.

Shi Xin smiles: Yes, when he’s on a mission he’s so focused, I don’t know how you manage – you’re so restless and talkative.

Bain: At least you’re laughing. I’ve missed that! Why can’t you spend more time with us?

Shi Xin: I have my own things to do, mainly trying to understand my place in the universe. I know so little.

Bain: But you know so much, all the teaching in the mountains, you know more about civilisations, and religions, and philosophy than anyone I’ve met, except Hunter, obviously.

Shi Xin: That’s kind of you but you weren’t exactly a model student were you? All I know was drilled into me by the priests, at least you seem to know who you are. I’ve seen you talk with so many different types of people.

Bain: I think that’s almost a compliment!

Shi Xin: Take it, they don’t come very often!

Bain: Ok, but I think I just have a sort of jack-the-lad charm. Years of surviving on my own have taught me when to take an opportunity, and when to run.

Shi Xin: Yes, I’ve seen that. I don’t know enough of that sort of thieving. Not sure I could make myself either. I was the only girl in a group of 10 boys, with male teachers. The boys were mainly cruel and unsympathetic, especially as the teachers were so kind. I knew right from wrong but since coming into the real world I see that people have so many different ways of living with their morals, just to survive, or get along with their neighbours.

Bain: Ah, well, that’s true. Hunter would say that’s essentially human to adapt in that way, but I think it’s a basic sense of living, that all beings adapt to what’s going on around them and make the best of it, or they die.

Shi Xin: So they compromise themselves in some way, in order to survive.

Bain: You could put it that way, but life is full of compromises.

Shi Xin: So when the wind blows, the reed bends, so as not to break.

Bain: Hmm. I suppose you learned that on the mountains.

Shi Xin: Oh yes, and many more besides.

They laugh conspiratorially. For a moment the gentle sounds chime with the booming noises of the traders behind them. Bain stretches his legs and smiles. He glances over to Shi Xin as she too seems to relax a little more, and realises how beautiful she is, her skin glowing in the reflections of the slowly emerging sun. He regrets the significant age difference between them, but shrugs and soon dismisses the stirring. In turn, Shi Xin catches at Bain’s thoughts, betrayed by the corners of his mouth, and decides that she must be careful with this old thief, treat him with kindness, as they wait here for Hunter to arrive, if ever he does.

Links

What is the Point of Talking?
What is Art?
Is Hypocrisy Necessary?
Philosophical Dialogue: Is Free Will Good?
If We Live Forever, Is Life Meaningless?
Dialogue: Should we Fear Death?
Is this all a Dream?
Another Dialogue:
And one more: Who is Responsible for an Accidental Death?
More concepts on These Fantastic Worlds
More about the SF Fantasy fiction of Jake Jackson
Some of these Dialogues can also be found on the long-form social media platform Medium

The post Dialogues | Waiting for Hunter appeared first on These Fantastic Worlds.

Dialogues | Are Humans Necessary?

Hunter and Bain have just settled back into the cafe. The air of the jungle around them is thick and oppressive. Bain finds breathing difficult, and wonders if the iced tea they’ve ordered will make any difference when finally it arrives. Even the service bots clearing the paths either side of the cafe seem to move more slowly that usual, and the humans fanning themselves with giant fronds amble around the clearing, seeking shade. A sudden shriek slices the air and the clearing becomes a frenzy of panic. Hunter raises his eyes to see Bain leap into the air, and run across to a stumbling service bot on the edge of the clearing. A small child lies flat underneath the bot’s heavy frame, shaking and bawling. Hunter sees a huge tree broken across the back of the bot.

The time does not matter, nor the year.

Bain, wanders back, languid again: That was close.

Hunter: I couldn’t see what happened.

Bain: A robot miscalculated the felling of a tree and nearly killed one of the little boys.

Hunter: So the other robot saved the boy?

Bain: Fantastic luck.

Hunter: Or a calculated risk.

Bain: What?

Hunter: Why do you assume it was misfortune that caused the tree to fall that way?

Bain: Uh, well, that happens!

Hunter: To humans.

Bain: Are you trying to tell me that robots don’t ever make mistakes?

Hunter: Well, with all the information to hand, and generally where no judgements are required, absolutely.

Bain: So you think the robots planned that?

Hunter: Well, it does look more like the execution of a contingency plan.

Bain: I’m not sure I believe that.

Hunter: Think about it. Robots are logical. Humans are not. Humans and robots working or co-existing have to adapt to each others methods. Especially if humans are in control, and in charge of the planning, but the robots are actually more capable of carrying out the task.

Bain: Uh, so you think the robots knew a child would get in the way of a tree as it felled.

Hunter: I think the robots would have planned for the possibility. In this time and place they’ve just surpassed human speeds of random processing. They might even have developed the organic neural networking necessary of exponential processing. We’ve both seen how far that can go, in other planets.

Bain: I see what you mean. That’s disturbing if it’s true though, the child could have been killed.

Hunter: Highly unlikely, and the robots would have made that calculation of risk both when felling that particular tree, tracking the position of the erratic movements of a child, and making sure another robot was close by to carry out one of its essential functions, which is to protect a human life.

Bain: All a bit soul-less. Obviously.

Hunter: Indeed, there’s no ‘soul’ in robots. Surely their actions are at least as effective as a human’s in that situation. More so, as both the tree was felled so the task fulfilled, and the child unaffected, physically at least.

Bain: A Human would not have felled the tree, and they’d have taken more account of the emotional stuff, as well as potential physical harm. We humans don’t like to see children upset!

Hunter: If they had made the calculation in the first place, it’s more likely they wouldn’t have seen the danger.

Bain: So are you saying that the robots are now more superior than humans, in this time and place?

Hunter: That’s not quite what I meant, but it is true, now the robots have superceeded humans where spatial awareness and planning is required.

Bain: So do robots need humans?

Hunter: Is that a relevant question? They would not exist without the humans, their fundamental laws are designed to protect humans. At a basic level, robots need humans.

Bain: Yes, but maybe it’s like an adolescent human who outgrows their parents, there comes a point when they need to leave, or find they’ve already left, mentally if not physically. Adolescents become rebellious in all sorts of ways, mostly minor, but significant to them: clothing, body styles, music, art, anything that’s different from their parent’s generation. It’s a way of creating an independent self.

Hunter: I see, perhaps it also explains the programming restraints humans place in robots. Knowing how adolescent humans work, they planned against the ‘independent self’, to combat the genetic programming for rebellion.

Bain: So there are elements of humanity that a robot does not excel in.

Hunter: You mean this genetic desire for rebellion, or do you mean emotions in general. I think that’s beside the point.

Bain: I think we’ve switched positions. I don’t think robots in this era do need humans, it’s just that they did once. Having developed so far, they’ve achieved a state where humans are irrelevant to their further advancement.

Hunter: So the clearing of this part of the jungle would be more efficient without the humans?

Bain: Absolutely. No need for contingency plans, or patience for the slow commands of human planners.

Hunter: But why would the clearing be necessary in the first place? It’s just for the humans and their cafe, to provide shelter from the heat, a cool resting place. Robots don’t need such things.

Bain: So humans provide a purpose for the robots? Even though they’re rapidly becoming superior, except in matters such as emotions, which are not essential to survival?

Hunter: I’m not saying that, but humans seem to desire emotional structures, loyalties and means of enjoyment which are simply not necessary for robots, but it’s these things that drive the need for more efficient processes, which robots can provide.

Bain: So perhaps the relationship between humans and robots is the development of a perfect system of need and fullfilment.

Hunter: As long as the robots don’t develop needs independent of humans.

Bain: Such as?

Hunter: Creating an environment which is not subject to erratic behaviour, or un-calculated demand.

Bain: Well, perhaps humans should be removed from the universe.

Hunter: There’s a good argument for that, although I don’t think you’d got quietly.

Bain: Are you sure you’re not a robot?

Hunter: Well, I’m not human…

Bain studies Hunter’s face. He watches the ragged features sit calmly beneath the long hair and wide brimmed hat, he registers the ever-whirring mechanical eye that sees beyond the physical world into the meta-universe, ever seeking fluctuations in the natural order. Bain wonders if friendship can really make a difference to this creature, this imprint of Ka, this not-human in human form, and determines to talk more to their mutual, enigmatic friend Shi Xiu, who he sees collecting her own drink, and heading her way towards them.

Links

Are We Free to be Free?
Are We Limited by Language?
What is the Point of Talking?
What is Art?
Is Hypocrisy Necessary?
Philosophical Dialogue: Is Free Will Good?
If We Live Forever, Is Life Meaningless?
Dialogue: Should we Fear Death?
Is this all a Dream?
Another Dialogue:
And one more: Who is Responsible for an Accidental Death?
More concepts on These Fantastic Worlds
More about the SF Fantasy fiction of Jake Jackson
Some of these Dialogues can also be found on the long-form social media platform Medium

The post Dialogues | Are Humans Necessary? appeared first on These Fantastic Worlds.

Dialogues | Is Law Universal?

Hunter and Bain are resting in the cool gloom of a café overlooking the slowly dying Barnard’s Star. They had arrived on a nearby, hospitable moon in time to see a rare, languid flare disappear from sight as the nearest planet began its customary eclipse. Vast shadows launch across the moonscape from where occasional forms shift and skitter in an apparent desire to escape the glare of the proximal star.

The time does not matter, nor the year.

Bain: Is there some sort of curfew here?

Hunter: I think so. When your earth cousins arrived they quickly imposed their own perception of normal activity. I don’t think they’ve ever changed it.

Bain: Don’t the locals rebel?

Hunter: It’s not their way. Their interactions aren’t the same as humans’, so human laws or moral infractions don’t really interfere with them.

Bain: Haha, of course. I suppose we came in with big lasers and rocket ships, terra-formed and told everyone what to do – frontiers of space stuff.

Hunter: Yes. Funny to think the laws make no discernible difference, except to the humans operating them.

Bain: Oh, that’s interesting, do you mean the laws don’t affect the locals at all?

Hunter: Yes, because although they do move around the surface most of them live in the cities below ground.

Bain: Ah, they keep cool by keeping out of the sun.

Hunter: Something like that. They’re not bipedal creatures, and their bodies are more ephemeral. They sort of drift, rather than walk.

Bain: Like ghosts?

Hunter: I suppose so, you humans might think of this as a place of spirits, but they’re more solid than that, and they can pass through the rock. It takes them a few hours though.

Bain: What? The passing through?

Hunter: Well, they sort of rest on the rock and press slowly through the atomic structure. The rock is more permeable than you humans think.

Bain: So you’ve seen this?

Hunter, laughs: Oh, many times. I used to annoy them at first because I could travel to their cities in an instant, obviously through the meta-universe, but they don’t know that. I’ve learned to be more considerate since then.

Bain: Really? That’s unlike you.

Hunter: Oh and the other thing is, they don’t have laws in the same way as you humans.

Bain: Inevitable, I suppose.

Hunter: No, I mean they really don’t, but that’s because they don’t need them.

Bain: Explain.

Hunter: They don’t have a system of government, therefore no politics, and they have no murders or wars.

Bain: Sounds boring!

Hunter: Not to them. I’m not sure how old their civilisation is, but their structures underground are ancient, in tall, imposing caverns with the people drifting across all levels. With my mechanical eye I can see the tiny pathways in the meta universe. It’s as though they exist on several planes of existence, all at once.

Bain: So they don’t need laws? They must have some governing principles?

Hunter: Well, your laws are based on various systems of control. In your societies, whether on Old Earth, or the colonies across the universe, humans seem to need to impose their will, and provide punishments for transgression.

Bain: That’s because so many of us want to transgress!

Hunter: Hmm. It’s more than that. It seems to be about protecting a human-centric view of the universe too. Every society has to bend to the will of human laws.

Bain: It’s an extended sort of ‘might is right’ thing. Big guns and shouty security, crackdowns on anyone different, anyone who might misbehave…

Hunter: …or foment disorder by thinking creatively, or in an apparently deviant way. It’s law built on the edifice of moral outrage and fear of the difference. Sometimes I think your laws are just made for the convenience of opinionated politicians or tyrants.

Bain: Or they’re just the expression of people’s natural fear of the alien. So, we submit to a strong voice to lead us because we think they will protects us. And that defines the laws.

Hunter: Barbaric. You’d think advances in technology would have educated that out of your species.

Bain: Well, technology has certainly reduced the need for theft as everyone now has access to so much more than they used to. But people are still jealous of their neighbours, or want more than they can reasonably have, or desire something or someone that isn’t theirs. We humans are a venal bunch, especially when thrown across the stars, with new colonies starting from scratch on few resources.

Hunter: Yes, it seems to be the tension between the haves and the have nots, and the decisions made to create the difference by those in power, that drives the need for law in human society.

Bain: I’m surprised you’ve engaged with it that much.

Hunter: Seeing so many different lifeforms and stages of existences across the star systems, it’s hard not to compare one with the other. Even over the millennia since Old Earth was abandoned Humans still behave the same way. The inflections of technology seem only to create greater gaps between those with access and those without.

Bain: So the people on this planet, with their caves, and general floating about, they don’t need laws, or perhaps we just don’t have the understanding to recognise them?

Hunter: Ah, perhaps, but they seem united by an absolute morality, without exception, so if there’s some sort of code of ethics it doesn’t need penalties of law to reinforce it because there are no transgressions. And they have all they require, their population is either static or if growing, not reducing their resources, so there’s no murder, theft, abuse or conflict.

Bain: Well, they’re either admirable, or very dull.

Hunter: Beyond our understanding I think. Have you noticed the creature by the table next to us?

Bain turns his head, and nods at the impression of an outline, in the dark recess of the cafe: I hadn’t but it’s so dark, that’s hardly surprising.

Hunter: Well, they’ve been slowly submerging into that wall ever since we arrived.

Bain tries to gauge the form of the creature, but it feels like he is staring into a stir of shadows. Hunter taps on Bain’s metal arm and nods at several other tables at the edges of the cafe, and each seems to contain slowly shivering outlines of darkness. Bain wonders how he had not noticed. As the pale light of the local star withdrew from the landscape Bain’s eyes adjusted and he realises that everywhere he looks, both inside and out beyond the café, dark forms churn across the rock floor of the moon. He glances back to Hunter, both of them laughing quietly at the idea of human laws of conduct and punishment being imposed in this place.

Links

Are We Limited by Language?
What is the Point of Talking?
What is Art?
Is Hypocrisy Necessary?
Philosophical Dialogue: Is Free Will Good?
If We Live Forever, Is Life Meaningless?
Dialogue: Should we Fear Death?
Is this all a Dream?
Another Dialogue:
And one more: Who is Responsible for an Accidental Death?
More concepts on These Fantastic Worlds
More about the SF Fantasy fiction of Jake Jackson
Some of these Dialogues can also be found on the long-form social media platform Medium

The post Dialogues | Is Law Universal? appeared first on These Fantastic Worlds.

Dialogues | Are We Free to be Free?

Hunter and Bain are back on the Earth for the first time in many journeys. They sit in quaint, straight, basket-weave chairs, their attempt at silence and recovery threatened by the squalls of noise from children and exasperated carers scattered around the cafe. Hunter glowers at his coffee, while Bain sighs in gusts of exhaustion.

The time does not matter, nor the year.

Bain: Will they stop?

Hunter: Seems unlikely.

Bain: Can’t we stop them?

Hunter:  I think we’d be ejected.

Bain: Well, why can’t the parents stop the noise?

Hunter: In this place, they’re free to exercise their particular form of freedom.

Bain: You mean freedom to inflict pain on others.

Hunter: That’s our perspective, not theirs. Freedom is subjective.

Bain: You mean it only depends on how free we feel, not some sort of unadulterated ideal?

Hunter: For humans anyway. That attitude infects your attitudes to government. Humans allow examples from a powerful micro-group to become the policy of the macro-society.

Bain: You’ve lost me already.

Hunter: It’s simple, you humans don’t like absolute truths because your systems of government are either elected democracies dependent on short terms of power and appeals to an electorate, or totalitarian rulers who impose their impulses on their subjects.

Bain: That’s pretty bleak.

Hunter: Tell me it isn’t so.

Bain: Well, I’ve not thought about it so much.

Hunter: That’s the problem isn’t it? You humans value something such as freedom so much, you don’t think about its consequences, until it’s too late to do anything about it.

Bain: That’s a bit of a leap.

Hunter: Not really. Anything that’s admirable or difficult is not going to look after itself. Unless you think about your actions, your freedoms, what’s important to you, then others who care more about what’s important to them will steal in and make their own views the most dominant.

Bain: I’d not thought of it like that. When I was young I had friends who always talked about freedom being worth fighting for, but that didn’t make sense to me then.

Hunter: Well, freedom is a slippery concept – it defies definition except at a local level. Everyone views freedom in their own terms, especially in an apparent democracy like the one that surrounds us now.

Bain: You seem to know more about my home planet than I do.

Hunter: It’s my job to. My curse actually. And that’s a denial of freedom too. I’d rather not know about your planet and it’s problems with its various forms of democracy, the lack of motivation of those affected by the governments they choose not to vote for. I can’t exercise my freedom to ignore this, I have to know it, in order to act, to be effective.

Bain: You’ll admit that you don’t care for freedom or democracy.

Hunter: I will, not because I’m totalitarian by instinct…

Bain shifted from an awkward twinge in his legs.

Hunter: …but I don’t see it as relevant to my task.

Bain: That’s always your let-out. Your task is so important, that nothing else matters.

Hunter: Of course, but don’t you think that’s true of everyone here? These children running wild, in our opinion, are allowed to let off steam by parents too weary to stop fighting every battle.

Bain: Or their carers don’t care what anyone else thinks – perhaps they’re androids? Anyway, their freedom still intrudes on ours.

Hunter: Yes, but freedom is a sophisticated ball of self-interest and altruism. There’s an element of both in every sense of freedom. For those suffering under some tyrant or despot, whether in a family, or local town, freedom to do anything at all is a small victory in a personal sense, but it can inspire others to feel the same, and ultimately, to act.

Bain winced: I suppose so. Or they take the tiny personal rebellions as a secret signal of freedom, enough to feed the human spirit, to survive. The idea of freedom seems like a luxury. We’ve been on many places where the repression of freedoms is so severe whole communities are destroyed. If freedom was such a pure and unattainable ideal it would have no value to everyday lives.

Hunter: In the short term perhaps, but the victories on your planet, for freedom of expression, for recognition of racial difference, gender difference are hard won over decades, centuries even.

Bain: I suppose so. As conditions improved so attention turned elsewhere to decency and tolerance. But the battles still persist. Perhaps there’s a reactionary impulse within all sentient beings, especially when natural disasters overwhelm, and we sink back to an instinctive state of brutal choices.

Hunter: So freedom is under constant evaluation, it’s always relative to circumstance, always under threat because it’s not essential to the survival of the species.

Bain: And if that’s all that matters, then freedom can seem like a luxury, delightful but disposable.

Hunter: So even if you feel free you’re not. Even so, for some, just the feeling helps them survive.

Bain lapses into silence, and watches the children running around, one of them veering close to the table that Hunter lounges behind. A small knock against the edge and Hunter’s half-empty mug is sent leaping into the air. For a moment Bain considers the arc of coffee, wondering if he should take action and be drenched by the hot coffee, or leave the mug to smash against the floor. Just as he acknowledges the freedom to choose his instincts force him to lunge forward and rescue the mug, which he does expertly with a swift flick of his outstretched metal arm. From the corner of his eye he catches Hunter’s ironic smile and lands shoulder first on the floor, as the children continue to scatter across the cafe, like atoms tossed in waves, oblivious and disinterested.

Links

Are We Limited by Language?
What is the Point of Talking?
What is Art?
Is Hypocrisy Necessary?
Philosophical Dialogue: Is Free Will Good?
If We Live Forever, Is Life Meaningless?
Dialogue: Should we Fear Death?
Is this all a Dream?
Another Dialogue:
And one more: Who is Responsible for an Accidental Death?
More concepts on These Fantastic Worlds
More about the SF Fantasy fiction of Jake Jackson
Some of these Dialogues can also be found on the long-form social media platform Medium

The post Dialogues | Are We Free to be Free? appeared first on These Fantastic Worlds.

Dialogues | What is the Point of Art?

In the shadows of a Baobab grove Hunter and Bain sit deep in the back of the café, hiding from the hard sun. They peer out from the relative darkness to the wide, barren plains where, just a few yards in front of the café a curious tableau plays out in silence with a silhouette of three figures. A child sits cross-legged on the ground, staring intently at a large pad of paper, occasionally flicking its head towards the horizon. Alongside an elegant woman in a kanga stands contemplating an easel while next to her an android, its degraded synthetic skin refracting the sunlight, also addresses an easel with measured purpose. From a distance each figure appears to hunt meaning in the stillness of the slow rolling landscape before them.

The time does not matter, nor the year.

Bain: I assume you’re never been moved to paint? You didn’t seem impressed when we last talked about art.

Hunter: Indeed, but it is fascinating that even now such a thing continues.

Bain: You still sound dismissive, of course.

Hunter: I don’t mean to be. This art thing endures, even through the catastrophes and the technology. Somehow it clings on, like that human spirit of yours.

Bain: It’s just imitation though, isn’t it? I think I gave it up when I was very young.

Hunter, allowing a sly smile: That explains much.

Bain: What? It can’t be important.

Hunter: Does everything have to be important?

Bain: No, but I don’t do it so perhaps I’m a little envious of the ability.

Hunter: I’m not sure the child there will have any ability. Not yet anyway.

Bain: Ok, the desire, or motivation.

Hunter: Well, I think that’s the point. There’s something compelling about it, you humans seem to pick up pens and paper when you’re young, even before the fascination with moving images and bright screens.

Bain: Something to do with the hands wanting create.

Hunter: The hands as part of a neurological system perhaps, it’s the brain that’s driving the desire.

Bain: But intelligent people don’t always want to draw.

Hunter: No, no, intelligence is more than just thinking, it’s an entire process. That android is a true imitation, a work of art in its way, an attempt to echo the human form, then to perfect it. In everything it does it tries to replicate the human method, but always with efficiently, its lines more precise, its proportions more balanced.

Bain: So do you think the android will create a better painting?

Hunter: Only if art really is about imitation.

Bain: What else could it be then?

Hunter: Art, in all its forms, poetry, creating music, mosaics, they’re about creating worlds, not just copying them. I’ve observed so many people as they write, or paint, and the finished work often seems able to induce emotions from their viewers, or onlookers, themselves even.

Bain: You’re straying into different territory here. I think you mean that art is not just copying, but creating a life of its own. Like a child dependent on a parent in the early years, becomes subject to other influences as they grow up, and their own personality begin to shape into life.

Hunter: So art, once created takes on its own life, shaped by those who view it, use it, where they put it, how they light it, even if they bury it in a corridor, that still imposes an influence.

Bain: So do you think Art can be of itself? Can it exist without being viewed, without an opinion being expressed?

Hunter: Well, it has form and must have some significance to the person creating it, but perhaps it doesn’t come into its full state unless it is seen, or read by others. Like a child too ill to leave the house, and is never visited, they have no chance to grow, to fulfil themselves.

Bain: So Art is about sharing, and growing, perhaps that’s what I missed out when I was young. I hardly went to school, I was on the streets, surviving, stealing food, anything, for my family.

Hunter: Is this your hard-luck story?

Bain, grunting: No, just thinking. I know I’ve changed since meeting you, travelling to so many different planets, encountering different people and creatures, androids and beings of pure thought. It’s forced me to change.

Hunter: For the better?

Bain laughs: I don’t know about that, I’ve been so terrified, so close to death, But somehow more settled in myself.

Hunter: So perhaps art can do that too, perhaps it facilitates the creator and those who engage with it, perhaps it makes them think beyond themselves, to explore more, ask more questions.

Bain: All from a simple brush of paint.

Hunter begins to lift himself up: Shall we see what they’re doing? I’d like to see if the android’s work is better than the woman’s, or if it’s a mess of misunderstanding.

Bain put a restraining hand on his Hunter’s arm: No, let’s just watch them, let’s not see what they do. It’s good to speculate. Anyway, they haven’t finished, artists hate being disturbed while they work.

Hunter slumped back down again, nodding. Part of him did enjoy the speculation without resolution. Bain watched the back of the child and noticed that now she looked up at the woman’s painting, and seemed energised by something, a new direction perhaps, or was it just copying? The android progresses steadily without referring to his companions at all. Bain and Hunter enjoyed watching the watchers, trying to resist the temptation to disturb the delicate process with further investigation.

LinksAre We Limited by Language?What is the Point of Talking?What is Art?Is Hypocrisy Necessary?Philosophical Dialogue: Is Free Will Good?If We Live Forever, Is Life Meaningless?Dialogue: Should we Fear Death?Is this all a Dream?Another Dialogue: And one more: Who is Responsible for an Accidental Death?More concepts on These Fantastic WorldsMore about the SF Fantasy fiction of Jake JacksonSome of these Dialogues can also be found on the long-form social media platform Medium

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Dialogues | Are we Limited by Language?

Hunter and Bain ache. Together they sit inside a cafe at the edge of the galaxy, watching the slow collapse of a once glorious star projected into a window that stretches high into the ceiling. They are amongst the many who have come to observe this graceful end, and all around them the chatter and excitement is oblivious to the grandeur of the event. Bain sighs, presses his palm across his cheeks in some attempt at forcing a stillness to settle there. Hunter is more sanguine, barely acknowledging the weariness of his body.

The time does not matter, nor the year.

Bain, after a long pause: I wish I could enjoy this more.

Hunter: Perhaps we should give up our seats to someone else.

Bain: No chance. I can’t move.

Hunter, grunts: Why don’t you write a poem instead?

Bain: What?

Hunter: Then you could record the moment and enjoy it later.

Bain: Have you ever known me to write a poem?

Hunter: It was just an idea.

Bain: I don’t think I could describe it, anyway.

Hunter: Your education was poor.

Bain: Well, that’s hardly news! But I mean, I don’t think it’s possible to describe it.

Hunter: You mean language itself is too limited.

Bain: Well, it seems inadequate at least. In some ways a poem is most appropriate because it uses language to evoke and echo, makes a reader think about what’s being said, rather than just describing it in a report, or a piece of prose.

Hunter: Perhaps, but that depends on the stage of development of your species.

Bain: Although we have seen humankind at various advanced stages and I’m not sure the language has become more descriptive. On some of the colonies in this part of the galaxy people seem to speak a strange mix of old earth languages, from English to Chinese, some French and Arabic.

Hunter: I didn’t know you were so knowledgeable.

Bain: Well, I heard it in…

Hunter and Bain together: … a bar.

Hunter: I thought so.

Bain: Don’t be so dismissive. When people are relaxed, that’s often when they are most eloquent, most truthful.

Hunter: But does that equip them with the means to describe what we’re seeing in front of us?

Bain: No, but I’m not sure that’s what human language is for.

Hunter: Sounds pretty limited to me.

Bain: It’s not that so much, I think it just takes a long time to describe complex processes, too many qualifiers and sub-clauses.

Hunter: Comforting to know you understand sub-clauses.

Bain: I don’t! And we would talk about the stars in a bar. Here we are, in a cafe, exhausted, but our minds are focused, and we still avoid what’s in front of us.

Hunter: Are you saying it’s the exhaustion, or the language itself that’s limiting? Is that what’s stopping us talking about the end of the life cycle in this star?

Bain: Ah, there you are, the limit of our human language. You just described the event in a simple scientific way.

Hunter: That’s only because the more complex way would have bored you, and probably me.

Bain: But I know you, you’d have just become super-scientific, explaining the forces and the energy, the consequences for mass and matter.

Hunter: Of course.

Bain: But there’s so much more. Just looking at it seems to move me. It’s an emotional response.

Hunter winces: That’s so human.

Bain rolls his eyes: And visually it’s so powerful, the shapes and the colours, the motion of the dust clouds being sucked in, the crumbling of the surface of the star, the fires breaking out then extinguished.

Hunter nods imperceptibly, and smiles: Indeed.

Bain: And the weird conflict between the imploding explosion and our expectation of sound: our brains experience the event in so many ways that are difficult to describe.

Hunter: I’ve never heard you be so poetic.

Bain smirks: I’m trying hard!

Hunter: Perhaps you can describe it perfectly adequately, perhaps the limitations you describe force you to approach the event from many different angles forcing your language too adapt.

Bain: Well perhaps; on Old Earth there’re creation myths from the indigenous folk of Australia, Dreamtime, which show the land and the skies being created as the gods walk, bringing the landscape into life with language. As an object is described, so it comes into being.

Hunter: Sounds like a perfect attempt at dealing with the limitations of language. Presumably these ancient peoples didn’t describe flying machines, or time travel.

Bain: Well, they had a mystical turn of phrase, describing the land in ways that they understood, more elliptically, artistically perhaps.

Hunter: Well, as a civilisation develops technologies to harness the land, then the scope of language increases to cope with the new inventions and systems, and people understand more, they see more. Eventually, reaching into the stars…

Bain: Up to a point, there must be genuine limits. The people we’ve met in the far future didn’t seem so different to us.

Hunter: But that’s because we’re from our time, and we’re limited by our notions of what’s possible. I see more through the meta-universe than you could possibly know, because you don’t have the language to describe it to yourself.

Bain: So a little like theoretical physics on Old Earth, using maths to explore concepts years before the techniques are developed to observe the evidence.

Hunter: Exactly so, maths is a higher language. It’s a shifting form, constantly evolving, with many participants, a single stream of language conducted by a group of individuals.

Bain: Although you can’t have a decent discussion in maths.

Hunter: Some would say you can’t have a decent discussion in a bar!

Bain lapses into silence and tries to imagine a conversation in a bar, using complex algorithms. Swirly, he surrenders to the impossibility. His eyes fall across Hunter, who is now pre-occupied with some inner dialogue, and past his shoulder to the groups of people gathered around. The various species in the wide lobby of the cafe are occupied by a mix of excited conversations, while others simply stare up at the window and the collapsing star. Bain wonders if the silence is able to speak beyond the limitation of those casting words into air, where ideas are immediately imprisoned by the form of language, and the understanding of those who receive them.

LinksWhat is the Point of Talking?What is Art?Is Hypocrisy Necessary?Philosophical Dialogue: Is Free Will Good?If We Live Forever, Is Life Meaningless?Dialogue: Should we Fear Death?Is this all a Dream?Another Dialogue: And one more: Who is Responsible for an Accidental Death?More concepts on These Fantastic WorldsMore about the SF Fantasy fiction of Jake JacksonSome of these Dialogues can also be found on the long-form social media platform Medium

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Dialogues | What is a Waste of Time?

Hunter and Bain sit under a canopy at the Northern end of Central Park, in New Manhattan. As their coffee is self-served from the middle of the table they watch the hot sun burnish the resting bodies lying like scattered leaves across the grass all around. In this curious landscape of aliens, androids, maintenance bots and other bi-pedal creatures the humans are easy to discern, because they all seem to have succumbed to the soothing attentions of the sun, while the others carry on without regard.

The time does not matter, nor the year.

Bain: Seems such a waste of time.

Hunter, his eyes closed: Must be bad if you think so!

Bain: What? I’m genuinely exhausted, you can’t compare that to lying in the sun. Look at these people, some of them are so tanned they’ve changed their skin-colour.

Hunter: perhaps that’s how they refuel. You humans seem to have an endless capacity for sensuous experience.

Bain, smiling: You do mean sensuous, not sensual?

Hunter: Of course, although we can have that discussion if you really want.

Bain: I don’t. It would be like talking about sex to my mother.

Hunter: You’ve never mentioned your parents.

Bain: Well, they kicked me out. I was the worst teenager you can imagine.

Hunter: I can imagine. But you’ve changed since we travelled together.

Bain: Yes. Not always for the better though.

Hunter: Are you a little envious of those sunning themselves? There’s nothing stopping you.

Bain: Well, I’m too tired.

Hunter: To lie on the grass?

Bain: It’s uncomfortable.

Hunter: More than these hard chairs?

Bain: I suppose I’d feel uncomfortable.

Hunter: Surely the lying down is the most relaxing thing you could do?

Bain: But I don’t want to do it.

Hunter: You seem to be in a minority, here at least.

Bain, pulling at his face: But I wouldn’t feel like myself. It would feel like an unnecessary waste of time.

Hunter: So you’re making a value judgement about it?

Bain: I’m trying not to.

Hunter: It’s a strange thing to struggle with. All the things we do together, the places we visit, the demons and gods we despatch, the dark corridors and deep pits, and you worry about how you’d feel lying in the sun?

Bain: Yes, it is odd. It feels fundamental. I just can’t do it. I see the pleasure in it. I used to have friends who said they loved the sensation of the sun across their flesh.

Hunter: It’s meant to refresh you, release the endorphins and help you recover from whatever else is going on in life.

Bain: Sounds like an excuse for indolence to me.

Hunter: That’s harsh, especially from someone who used to spend hours getting drunk, playing pool and laughing at people falling over.

Bain, ruefully: That’s harsh. Anyway, I don’t do that any more. I’m too tired, getting older, not inclined.

Hunter: Well those are all good reasons for not doing it, but was it a waste of time when you did?

Bain: I suppose not. It helped me get through the day. Especially when I didn’t sleep.

Hunter: Perhaps it was a waste of time, so you stopped doing it.

Bain: Well, I noticed that when I stopped drinking so much I felt better the day after.

Hunter: It’s really about the drink though is it? In human culture the need to have a good time is strong.

Bain: But it can be destructive.

Hunter: Doing nothing can be destructive?

Bain: Yes, I have friends who were bright-eyed and full of potential when they were young but years of life and work have ground out the joy from them. Relaxation is doesn’t exist for them, it’s just an exhaustion, an emptiness.

Hunter: Perhaps only some people have the luxury of this “relaxation”.

Bain: In some societies, on old earth, and still on the new colonies across the galaxy, where people work to survive in any way they can, there’s no room for relaxation. That’s called sleep.

Hunter: So that’s why you feel uncomfortable. You feel guilty.

Bain hesitates: I suppose so. There’s so much to do, and for those of us with a limited lifespan, unlike you, there just isn’t enough time to fit it all in, let alone lie around and luxuriate in the sun.

Hunter: It’s not unreasonable to recover from a hard day’s work, or long week, or month of work. That’s what we’re doing right now.

Bain: Yes, but part of us is mulling over what we’’ve done, why, what we can learn from it, what we’ll do next.

Hunter interrupts: Sounds like you do need a rest. You’re always anxious at the end of our journeys. Although I’m tired it doesn’t affect me in the same way. You seem to invest your emotions into everything, whereas I’m seeing it all through the meta-universe, as well as your time and place, so I don’t take anything personally.

Bain: Do I do that?

Hunter: When we had to walk across the beach of crying babies you were distraught.

Bain: yes, because they were babies, they were crying. Where was their mother, or father? Or family, and the tide was coming in!

Hunter: But they weren’t real babies. Just physic projections.

Bain: I didn’t know that then.

Hunter: So it exhausted you inside, as well as physically. Was it a waste of time to recover from that? In whatever way worked best for you.

Bain: Which was drinking heavily in a bar and playing pool. I guess.

Hunter: Indeed. I went off to sort out something else while you collapsed for two days.

Bain, laughs: What a waste of time!

Hunter: But you recovered.

Bain: Since when did you become so understanding about humans and their needs?

Hunter: Travelling with you my friend.

Bain smiles. Having travelled so far and so many times with this Dark Hunter of the Displaced, Bain has learned so much, his brain fizzing with landscapes and beings, new cultures, diverse forms of existence, always learning from Hunter, trying to catch up. Now, apparently they’re friends. And resting may not be such a waste of time after all. Bain stands up slowly, and walks a few feet to the grass nearby. He settles down on his back, eyes closed, lying content in the hot sun with the people and the leaves.

LinksWhat is the Point of Talking?What is Art?Is Hypocrisy Necessary?Philosophical Dialogue: Is Free Will Good?If We Live Forever, Is Life Meaningless?Dialogue: Should we Fear Death?Is this all a Dream?Another Dialogue: And one more: Who is Responsible for an Accidental Death?More concepts on These Fantastic WorldsMore about the SF Fantasy fiction of Jake JacksonSome of these Dialogues can also be found on the long-form social media platform Medium

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Dialogues | What is the Point of Talking?

Hunter and Bain sit exhausted in the cafe. Idly they watch the sun drizzle through the leaves of the interplanetary nature reserve on an asteroid close to Barnard’s Star. They arrived an hour ago but hardly a word passed between them, just the usual nods of familiarity as they consume their coffee and rest from their tasks. A stretch of water tumbles close by, running, excited, down a short cliff edge to a wide pool below where groups of people gather to wash their faces and arms in the sun.

The time does not matter, nor the year.

Bain: Do we need to talk?

Hunter: I don’t think so.

Bain: But we always do, in the end.

Hunter: That’s usually because you can’t restrain yourself.

Bain: So if I didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t either.

Hunter: Well, only if I had something to say, or instruct.

Bain: Haha. Yes, instruct. Perhaps you need a submissive android as a companion.

Hunter: I did once. Not entirely satisfactory.

Bain: Really!?

Hunter: It surprised me to find I missed the extra-curricula chat I saw in others.

Bain: You’re trying to be rational about it.

Hunter: Of course. If I had a real choice I would proceed in silence at all times.

Bain: But that because of what you are.

Hunter: The same can be said of most people, or beings. What we are drives our motivations and actions. Robots only talk when they need to learn something, or pass information.

Bain: So talk is a broad term. Perhaps you’re referring to idle chatter!

Hunter: Well, you said it, not me!

Bain: But what you might think of as idle might be essential to some people.

Hunter: Perhaps. It depends what’s going on in their heads.

Bain: How so?

Hunter: Some people seem to prefer to think before speaking, so dam up their thoughts and release them at the appropriate moment, as far as they’re concerned. While others operate an open door, with thoughts spilling out as as soon as they occur.

Bain: Does the difference matter?

Hunter: I don’t think so. As long as personal preference is generally respected.

Bain: Yes. You’ll notice I didn’t speak for almost an hour when we arrived.

Hunter: I did. And was grateful for it.

Bain: Grateful? Am I irritating then?

Hunter: Not exactly, as I said, the robot didn’t work out.

Bain: So you’re learning from me. I suppose that’s good.

Hunter: Well, the fact of you speaking is not the good thing, or even what you say, but the fact of your talking is helpful. I can see the need in others we meet, so I’ve learnt to adjust.

Bain, laughing: You’re more relaxed than when I first met you. When first you dragged me through the meta-universe and landed somewhere populated your instinct always was to walk through people, just to get on with your task.

Hunter: Sometimes it works.

Bain: But more often it’s better to find out what’s going on before marching in.

Hunter: I understand why you say that, and I’ve seen you perform that trick of courtesy and charm. I can’t do it, I don’t sound like I mean it, so I leave it to you.

Bain: Certainly it causes less trouble.

Hunter: As you know, I don’t mind the trouble so much.

Bain: Except it delays you.

Hunter: That’s true.

Bain: So the talking is a productive means to an end.

Hunter: Certainly.

Bain: Except I enjoy the chat.

Hunter: Yes, I see that, so I leave it to you. I just don’t enjoy the exchange, I’m too impatient.

Bain: It’s because you lack empathy.

Hunter: Is that a criticism?

Bain: No, an observation. Without it you have no genuine interest in the person you’re talking to, and it becomes obvious to them so they become annoyed, and that’s what causes the delay.

Hunter: Yes, this talking just seems like the jabber of unlearned language, but I can see the results when you smile and talk nonsense about the weather, family. I’ve studied your methods and see you always pick something personal to talk about.

Bain: Do you regret not having this empathy?

Hunter. No. It doesn’t fit with my purpose.

Bain: But don’t you want to relax and talk about other things sometimes?

Hunter: Well, let’s say I wouldn’t choose to. When it happens I’m surprised to find it productive, if not always enjoyable.

Bain: Perhaps it’s a function of your lack of mortality.

Hunter: Certainly I don’t value the minutiae of lives in the way that those who live a standard lifespan do. I’ve seen so many people come and go, my brain is too full of faces, there’s no room for any more.

Bain: That’s bleak. It sets you apart.

Hunter: But I have no regrets.

Bain: Will I be the same?

Hunter: What do you mean?

Bain: Well, I travel with you, we slip in and out of the past, then hurtle off to the future. Both  of us.

Hunter: But you’re body is still decaying. It has it’s own lifespan. Mine was manifested and hasn’t changed since that point in the dirt of Ur.

Bain grimaced: Well, that’s cheered me up. Good talk!

Hunter: Now you’re trying to shame me into talking.

Bain smiled: No empathy, no shame either, I know that. As always you’re unaffected by the discussion. You seem able to assimilate information, and consequences, without the weight of regret or joy.

Hunter: But there is joy all around us, I see it in the people below, the preservation of these trees.

Bain: But you’re making a value judgement, without wishing to talk about it.

Hunter: Yes, I suppose so. A good talker needs willing listeners, or others participating in the same way. Perhaps it’s a habit.

Bain:  In your case, these talks over coffee have become a habit. For me it’s a need, to share and discuss. Your responses are mainly rational, occasionally indulgent.

Hunter: Indeed.

Bain: There you go.

Bain’s leg swings over the side of his chair and flicks like a cat’s tail. His face is pinched and agitated as he avoids Hunter’s eyes. The sounds of the chattering water below, mingles with the children laughing, and the occasional interruption of older voices. Even Hunter seems alert to the noises but his eyes are closed and he seems engaged with something else altogether.

LinksWhat is Art?Is Hypocrisy Necessary?Philosophical Dialogue: Is Free Will Good?If We Live Forever, Is Life Meaningless?Dialogue: Should we Fear Death?Is this all a Dream?Another Dialogue: And one more: Who is Responsible for an Accidental Death?More concepts on These Fantastic WorldsMore about the SF Fantasy fiction of Jake JacksonSome of these Dialogues can also be found on the long-form social media platform Medium

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Dialogues | Is a Just Society Possible?

Hunter and Bain stare at the moonless sky. They sit in a cafe at the cliff edge of a plateau overlooking the landing bay. A constant stream of small craft arrive, halt for a few moments then fly off again, ferrying hordes of queuing people to the starships above. A huge circle of spinning sliver lights perpetuates the dark sky, reflected in a series of other circles, stretching across the vast landscape of this Way Station in the stars.

The time does not matter, nor the year. 

Bain: It’s a long time since I had to travel like that.

Hunter: There are some advantages travelling with me.

Bain, hesitating: Do you think it’s right, what’s happening down there?

Hunter: Depends which part of it you’re talking about.

Bain: Well, almost all of it. The people shuffling in the queues, clinging onto their single bags, the security staff lording it over everyone, the AI controllers fine-tuning the flight paths to maximise the number of prisoners taken up to the prison ships.

Hunter: Prison ships? I didn’t see that.

Bain, muttering: Thought not.

Hunter: Huh, it just seems so arcane, such an inefficient way of dealing with what this society calls criminals.

Bain: That’s it though, this particular society deemed legal death to be wrong so it locks up all the criminals onto vast ships, away from the colonies, out of sight.

Hunter: Surely that’s better than killing them all.

Bain: Yes. But it’s counter-productive. No-one learns the lessons, whatever they’re mean to be, because the problem doesn’t go away, it’s just hidden.

Hunter: You mean it doesn’t address the bigger issues?

Bain: Something like that. If this society thinks that certain actions don’t fit with it’s view of good behaviour, it should present an honest argument with visible consequences, especially if it wants to stop the actions.

Hunter: Perhaps they’ve decided they can’t stop it, or don’t have the time or inclination but still have to deal with the problem.

Bain: But that’s a society which has given up on being just.

Hunter: Or one that’s dealing with so many problems on such a scale, it has to work that way. Look at how many are being taken up to the ships.

Bain: And look how defeated they are. How many of them are petty criminals, or political prisoners, not just murders or arsonists?

Hunter: You were a thief once.

Bain: A small-time smuggler really, it was a way of life. It meant freedom.

Hunter: And your society seemed to tolerate a certain amount of that.

Bain: You mean the smuggling?

Hunter: I meant the freedom!

They both suppressed a laugh.

Bain: Freedom to transgress, just a little perhaps, without fear of utter defeat, without being crushed. Is that the secret to a just society?

Hunter: But a ‘just society’ the concept of a ‘just state’ at least seems to be a combination of perfections, the unity of tasks, with groups of people willingly submitting to their place in that group, and the group accepting its part in society.

Bain: That sounds more like a high-functioning brain, one without emotions or instinct. The first robots where like that. Even the AIs these days exhibit organic patterns of behaviour on top of their original programming.

Hunter: Perhaps society is like that. Build on a perfect plan, but once it reaches a certain point in development it has to adapt to its circumstances.

Bain: And abandons its ideals? Must it always be so?

Hunter: Without the over-riding element of AI, any society ruled by humans, whether elected or imposed seems to behave the same way: imperfectly. Humans, because their emotions make them fundamentally weak, don’t make rational decisions all the time, they’re easily distracted, tempted, even, especially those in power. The struggle for advantage in human society seems to be an essential element, a destructive way of bringing about change for individuals and groups.

Bain: That’s sounds very gloomy. It’s the weaknesses you describe that make humans fundamentally strong too, it allows for adaptation, and joy, determination and desire, sensation and hope. It brings individuality and idiosyncrasy.

Hunter: Well, the concept of a ‘just society’ doesn’t really acknowledge those things, because they strain against the overall aims of the society, where everyone knows their place, and fits willingly inside it. Whichever way you look at that, it is impossible for a perfectly tuned society to exist for very long. The weakness of humanity, or the desire to allow for the strengths as you describe them bring the sort of imperfection which makes government difficult, and consistent justice even more so.

Bain shrugs: So a society has to confront a series of challenges born out of the nature of humankind with a series of compromises. I suppose that’s how humans have worked for thousands of years.

Hunter: Over the ages it seems always to be about Kings, power and money. Now, it’s the corporations who rule the colonies with their power-broking, legal money-laundering and bribery; they still use force to impose their will, their justice. The people we see on the plateau below, destined for a cramped life in the stars, they are the victims of this all-too human system. If good and just values once existed, they persist no longer for these people.

Bain: So, perhaps a ‘just society’ is impossible because of the weakness and venality of humankind. We have to do the best we can in whatever circumstances we find ourselves.

Hunter nodding towards the landing bay below: Unless you are defeated by the consequences.

They both stare at the long lines of prisoners. Whatever differences between the individuals below had existed before, compliant and defeated now each one behaves in the same way; whatever weakness had led them to this point, from now on they are destined to be treated as one, compelled to submit for the rest of their lives, slaves to a society that has abandoned any desire for a truly just society.

LinksWhat is Art?Is Hypocrisy Necessary?Philosophical Dialogue: Is Free Will Good?If We Live Forever, Is Life Meaningless?Dialogue: Should we Fear Death?Is this all a Dream?Another Dialogue: And one more: Who is Responsible for an Accidental Death?More concepts on These Fantastic WorldsMore about the SF Fantasy fiction of Jake JacksonThese Dialogues can also be found on the long-form social media platform Medium

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Sources | Celtic Myths | Origins

We reach for the Celts through the parchments of Christian monks1, and Greek 2 and Roman historians 3 but still we grasp at phantoms of truth. The mythic invasions, cycles of life and death, war and famine, the true story is the spread of a people across Europe4, trying to understand their world, and take command of it.

Unlike the Greeks, with their great epics, or the Norse with their Eddas the Celtic tradition remained oral so we see their beliefs through the writings of others, stripped of their religious meaning and reduced to animalistic wonder, so it is often difficult to see the form of Celtic belief as they would have understood it themselves5.

Origins of the Celts

[image error]Originating in Europe, they were probably the Keltoi6, just north of the cultural nexus of the Ancient Greeks7, and their artefacts have been found further East in what was then known as Anatolia8, now modern Turkey, before mass migration through Europe brought them to Gaul (roughly, modern France). At their height they had spread across the continent of Europe, and sacked Rome in 390 BC9, but by 84 AD The Roman Empire pushed them back, eventually subjugating them in Gaul, destroying their culture, and forcing them further West, into Spain10 then up to Ireland11 where they fled to relative safety across the cold waters of the Irish Sea.

Although the diverse and nomadic nature of the what we now call the Celts creates some difficulties it is clear that many legends and deities were common to all tribes associated with them. In various guises gods were closely associated with the functions of the world, usually representing cycles of life. Amongst the many, The Dagda appears to be the god of life and death, approximating the head of the pantheon, such as an Odin or a Zeus. Lugh, or Lug, was a sun god with skills in the arts, war and healing. Morrigan was essential to the harvest, but manifested as a terrifying trio of deities in the heart of war, where she was the most fierce of all the gods.

[image error]The Celts indeed were war-like but also great lovers of music, with many war chants and battle songs to bear their great deeds of conquest 12. They were united by their language, and broad beliefs, without focusing on an earthly country13, nation-state14, or a city-state. 15 This drives significant differences between their mythologies and those of the Greco-Romans, or further back to the Egyptians and the Sumerians whose own supernatural beliefs were bound into their monolithic settlements16.

The Celts were farmers, soldiers and free spirits, they build forts and traded extensively, but at their core were sophisticated, knowledgeable spiritual forces, the druids. These teachers, lawmakers and gurus, were said to possess magical powers, offering a connection back to the mythical invasions, cities and treasures of the past. Whatever the truth of their influence, the druids were the the guiding minds of the tradition.

The Thuatha dé Danann

The supernatural, as magic, played a powerful role in Celtic thought. The battle between the light and the dark, day and night, life and death, preoccupied them. Their mythic invasions of ancient Ireland brought the Tuatha dé Danann18, whose magical powers, while no match for their powerful, earthy successors, the Milesians19, heralded a vision of the otherworld in the mounds and hidden castles of Ireland, into which the people, at their death, would drift. The dé Danann, although represented as High Kings and Queens in later literature formed the pantheon of Gods in the Celtic tradition; they became the origin of the fairy folk, and thus the fairy stories of the Victorian era, which combined with the Teutonic tales of the Northern Europe20 to become a powerful source of inspiration in popular modern literature. 21

[image error]For the Irish Celts, with the four mythic sequences of gods, kings and warriors – the Mythological, Ulster, Historical and Fenian Cycles – their tales are full of heroism, romance, courage and fearlessness22. But the Mabinogion, with its interpretations of the Welsh canon23, and tales from Brittany in France, The Isle of Man and Cornwall have their own variants. The Mabinogion has a particular interest though because it teases us with the origins for the Tales of the King Arthur24 with its sorcery, love-torn feuds and places beyond (The Isle of Avalon).25), an Otherworld common throughout Celtic mythology. This is not an underworld as such, but lives alongside, as the dé Danann did, in the rivers and the trees, the bogs and the mists, in castles and isles that ghost through the light, disappearing with the morning dew. This is the ‘Land of the Forever Young’, Tír Na Nóg26 with its four magical cities27 and their talismanic treasures28.

Romanticization

Another theme is worth highlighting: the intimate sanctity of the land and the people, manifested in the sacred marriage between the mythic kings and Queens, the renewal of the land by the harvest, and the harvest of slaughter in battle by Morrigan; here the land and the people are bound in the imperative of destiny,29 and the dire consequences of betrayal: there is no escape in a cyclical world view where all deeds are known before they are done, and all matter returns to the land to be judged, re-birthed and renewed.

[image error]The lure of the Otherworld (Avalon), the totemic significance of marriage and harvest, these powerful Celtic themes influenced the Tales of Arthur and were adapted by Christianity in the late Middle Ages into the concept of chivalry as a civilizing force against barbarism30, the godliness of royal marriage, and the just cause of war, influencing much of western thought during a crucial period in European history. After Keating’s great “History of Ireland” in the 1600s, much later, in the 19thC the poet W.B Yeats was part of a Celtic dawn which tried to rescue the origins of the Irish from the clutches of the colonial British, and Christian heritage, but played its own part in the romanticization of ancient origin, with his dramatic poetic imagery of Sluagh Sidhe (the Fairy Host) or Marcra Sidhe (the Fairy Cavalcade), the one more benign than the other. 

The Celts, for all the disputes about their origin, the confusion of names, the tortuous translation by conquering Romans, and Christian monks, appropriation by Victorian fairy storytellers and lyrical nationalists, the fugitive ghosts of Celtic mythology remain vital and thrilling today.

The Great Deluge and Beyond

[image error]actually Gomer, one of Japreth’s seven sons, and perhaps Magog too. '>31. The medieval Christian church tried its best to assimilate the cultures it encompassed, and with the origins of the Celtic people so uncertain, offered a carefully placed link to events in the Christian Bible, which in a society guided exclusively by the religious was an essential component of order and security. 32

Connections

For my own writing the myths and traditions of the Celts are as central as the concepts of quantum entanglement, fields of time, and the ancient pre-eternal forces of Babylonian mythology. The names of various characters in the books, particular the Echoes Trilogy (Echoes in Time, Echoes of Light and Echoes End), with Luz, Morrigan and Finn, are prominently Celtic in origin, but the Sidhe (contemporaneous descendents of the Thuada dé Danann, and so named after the legendary mounds in Ireland which are marked as entrances to the Otherworld, Tír Na Nóg), with their mischievous, devious amorality, take a primary role in the binding of an ancient creature, for the sole purpose of preserving their future. The books play with concepts of light and dark, teasing behind the stereotypes of good vs evil to play with the origins of chaos, the reason for the order of the things, and the consequences of multi-universes. The Celts, with their earthly pre-occupations and indulgent self-gratifications are a satisfying counterpoint to the universal forces of pre-eternity, time and space that thread through the seven novels and 12 short stories so far, a canon of tales expanding into a universe of storytelling, with plans for release from mid-2018 onwards.

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Images in this post are sourced from Wikimedia Commons. The header is the beautiful painting ‘The Riders of the Sidhe’ by John Duncan in 1911, complete with its romanticised vision of Irish myth. The illuminated manuscripts are by the Flemish scribe and painter Simon Marmion, of the 1450s AD,  the silver panel (probably made from smelted Roman coins) is an inside panel from the Gundestrup cauldron, found in a bog in Denmark but featuring scenes of Celtic and Near-Eastern mythology and revealing some evidence of the migration of the Celts from somewhere near the Black Sea. The carving, created in the mid-1300s can be found at the Louvre in Paris; it shows Gawain, one of King Arthur’s knights, “on a dangerous bed”! The final image is another from Simon Marmion’s illuminated manuscripts, illustrating Noah’s Ark with symbols that occur both in the Christian Bible of the time, but also familiar to the Babylonians of the second millennium BC in the Epic of Gilgamesh and The Dream of Atrahasis. 

LinksLife of Geoffrey Keating, the author of Foras Feasa ar Éirinn, a history of Ireland from the creation of the world to the invasions of the Norman French in the twelfth century.Text of Lebor Gabála Érenn, ‘The History of Ireland’ by Geoffrey Keating.More details about the 11th Century Lebor Gabála Érenn, ‘The Book of Invasions’.  An interesting piece about the uncertain reliability of Nennius’ Historia Brittonum. A really useful breakdown of the linguistic origins of the name Celts, Keltoi, the Gauls and Galatians can be found here.More about the Celtic God Dagda here. The Celtic God Lugh here.…and the Celtic Goddess Morrigan here.For more on the ‘The Hosting of the Sidhe’ by W.B Yeats, take a look at the terrific Shenandoah website.Here’s more about the Roman historian Tacitus.An excellent website with extensive notes on the Mabinogion .Lady Charlotte Guest at the Library of Wales.A history of the Scythians from the brilliant British Museum exhibition of 2017.A useful description of the excavations of burial sites in Hungary showing the intimacy of the Scythian and Celtic cultures.Annd here’s article about Gilgamesh and the Babylonian Flood story.

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