Stargazer: The enduring influence on the vampire genre

The Rose is the symbol of ruling class of vampires known as The Elders
As shown at my homepage and several reviews , and by the very book itself, Stargazer has indeed been the fountainhead for both the traditional and futuristic vampire saga (or "space vampires", as it's referred to). I am by no means completely original (no artists is); and I doubt the concepts in the novel were directly borrowed (the book sold decently in its first edition of The Queen of Darkness under Warner Books, but it was by no means a cultural phenomenon). Sure, Anne Rice introduced the idea of vampire bars, but I added a whole economy and mass production that True Blood, Blade and Daybreakers ran with. I am Legend brought us the vampire apocalypse, but I weaponized it with themes of revolution, social engineering, and deep philosophical undertones of Orwellian speculation. And the examples are legion when you read it.

Here is a  perfect illustration, from a new book by Lean Hillbrand called The Superiors .  Here is the synopsis:

Two hundred years after a stronger, faster, nearly invincible race takes over the earth, the Superiors rule humanity with scorn and an iron fist—or iron fangs. Though Superiors raise humans simply as livestock to sate their hunger and sustain their immortal lives, Draven Castle, a discontented, lower-class Superior, will never have the funds to purchase his own human.

One night Draven captures Cali, a human runaway, and defies society's strict laws by feeding on her. The continuing consequences of this one small criminal act forever alter the course of his mundane life. Draven returns Cali, but she has already ensnared his interest. He tries to protect her but finds himself helpless to stop other vampires from feeding on her, so he vows to purchase her, no matter the cost. Soon he begins to take more and more risks to ensure her safety and gain possession of her. But can he risk everything for the chance to own one human girl?


The story in Stargazer occurs 200 years after the vampire hostile takeover, humans are farmed, there is a caste system within the undead society, and the protagonist finds himself questioning his own existence by being transformed by a connection to a human being. I doubt Miss Hillbrand has read Stargazer, and sometimes the same stories lie in the collective unconscious Carl Jung wrote about, but it's interesting to point out.

Here is the backdrop of Stargazer, directly from the novel, in an interaction between the hero Byron and one of The Elders--sending him on an infernal quest that will ultimately cause his betrayal of his own race and war against Lilith, the godly ruler of the vampire race:


     The office was plush and elegant, but that is not what caught my attention. Most of the wall, curving upward, was ambergris glass, giving a striking if not haunting view of the land: Clouds of purple and sparkling pink scraping golden mountains of torn rock, endless desert streaming in and out of this valley, lovely Luna perched above it all. The northern gust must have been kind this night, taking away some of the dust from the sky. Furthermore, she appeared to us in full form, not in her crescent or other aspects. We could almost see her firm contours, almost notice a less potent shade of orange, not the blurry mess she had been since the nuclear winter ended after The Holocaust.     Crow and I were so awed by it, we didn't hear the other occupant rise from his desk of fake-oak and brass. He greeted us a second time.     "Uh, Master Shibboleth, greetings." Crow bowed at the handsome Stargazer with milky-hair, extremely pointed ears (more pointed than most of us), dressed in gray robes. His face reminded me of my own features—tapering, savagely noble, but with eyes that always seemed to mock everything. I owned dark hair that people said had deep red streaks in it.      "Greetings, Lord Crow," he said with a musical, yet sonorous voice. "And you, Byron. It has been a while since I saw you."      I walked to him and extended a hand, not caring to be formal. He took my hand confidently, though.      "Greetings to you, Shibboleth," I said. "When was that, last year at the Equinox Festival, Master Tsing-Tao party?"      "Yes it was." He motioned for a decanter on the desk.       "How about a refreshment? It's A-positive from a young stock, a small privilege The Elders have in our arduous duty.      Crow was already salivating and licking his fangs. Shibboleth poured us a round and told us to have a seat. We sipped the wonderful food from cordials in silence for a few seconds. Then The Elder informed his secretary through the intercom that he was not to be disturbed.      "Oh, this is tasty," I remarked. "As good as any reason to come and visit you."      "This is not the reason you come to visit me,"      Shibboleth said, second in rank out of seven Elders. He held his glass up, at the same time patting his lips with a handkerchief. "But it is very connected.  And very important."      "What do you mean?" I asked, and Crow elbowed me, only to get a disapproving stare from The Elder.      "Please, Lord Crow," he said. "This meeting is as important as it is secret. Matters of security are at stake. Every-one in this room should feel free to express themselves and ask any questions."      I sneered at the Raven and took out a cigarette. The look on Shibboleth's face was precious.      "I agree," I said, "but why am I here? There are definitely more important power-players in Xanadu than me."      Shibboleth leaned back in his chair, touching his long nails in contemplation.      "I'm sure you're not the only one in The Tower who thinks this, Byron. But the word has been sent from the top."      "The top?" Both Crow and I questioned.      "The top," he echoed calmly, although his eyes shifted murkier for an instant.      "You mean," I said, but he was already nodding. "Our Mistress?"      "Yes," he hissed and stood up, pacing by a window as if admiring the view he could see every worknight through eyes needing no illumination.      I sucked on the smoke and thought of my dreams.      "Byron," he said, hands behind him, back to us. "Most of The Elders know of your past. You were once of the greatest children of Our Mistress. We are all equal in this new age after The Holocaust when the Stargazers overthrew the Warm Ones. But…" He paused, as if for the first time noticing the smoke saturating the room (Xanadu was not known for its filtering qualities). "You were the prototype of something greater perhaps. You have wondrous talents that have been, how would you put it, wasted throughout your many careers in the last hundred years."      I looked down, wondering why I didn't feel any shame. Not even embarrassment, that taste, that feeling, that topic I felt this conversation was leading to—they always did when it came to me.      Shibboleth waived at Lord Crow. "At first you served as a Raven, making sure security was impeccable in The Citadel and The Farms in the nights when we were still domesticating all the Warm Ones. You were expelled for terminating another warrior. Do you recall why?"      "Vaguely," I mumbled.      "Over what, Byron?"      "A friend," I answered flatly.      "But you weren't punished even if Stargazers are not al-lowed to destroy one another, the second greatest crime after transgression against Our Mistress, both punished with immediate extermination. But you were somehow forgiven and moved onto other areas. And how you excelled, Byron! You wrote the first true Stargazer classical piece, you sculpted award-winning statues, you designed great graphic interfaces that aided Xanadu. But each time, you somehow let your bravado sabotage your potential."      I felt like defending myself, but all I could do was put out my cigarette and watch smithereens of golden ash quiver to nothingness.      "And believe me, we have worried about it and pondered alternatives to your, let us say, disgraceful existence." He paused again, to make sure the words sank in to my cha-grin and Crow's pleasure. "But we are civilized; and The Elders and The MoonQueen only wish the best for our civilization."      Enough was enough. My legendary short attention was already kicking in, which was usually followed by my legendary boredom.      "That's really great, Shib. But what am I doing here? Most of my disciplining has been carried out by the Ravens or other guilds. Not a superior of your stature."      He grinned, but his eyes turned putrid orange. I heard Crow gasp, but my sight would not falter. "It's simple, Byron. We wish to offer you another chance. The MoonQueen wants your aid, to prove her infinite wisdom is just that. You were birthed the perfect Stargazer, Byron, now prove it. Or else."      "Or else?" I took out another cigarette.      "Or else." He sat back down, this time offering me a light. Another privilege of The Elders.      "Since you put it that way, Shib," I said, leaning over to catch his illumination. "I guess I'll be at your service. What's going on?"      "Lord Crow," he said, slowly swinging his chair left and right.      "We believe there are certain, potential instigations in Xanadu," he explained after clearing his throat.      I frowned. "Instigations? From whom? Stargazers?"      "No, of course not," Crow spat, eyeing The Elder's decanter. "From the Warm Ones, in one of The Farms."      "Don't these happen all the time?" I asked, remembering my nights in those dreary places.      "Yes and no," Shibboleth said. "They do, but they are of little concern. Many times we allow them to give the Ravens and scientists a change to sharpen their fangs, pardon the expression, or to prune the volatile parts."      "But this one is different?"      "We believe so," said Crow, "especially since one of our own was found…"      He glanced at Shibboleth for help at the lodged word.      "Fallen," The Elder said calmly. "Destroyed."      "Destroyed?" I said. "And you think it was a Warm One?"      They watched the shaking of my head. That had never happened in this city, as far as I knew. Not when I was the head of the Ravens, not even with Crow.      "If our intelligence is correct," Crow said. "It might be more than just a very isolated event, perhaps a collective insurrection."      "What exactly happened?" I asked, still unbelieving.      "You will be detailed once you get there and then you act quickly."      "I still don't understand," I said. "Why me? Why not eliminate a few hundred of any potential troublemakers and be done with it?"      Again, he looked to Shibboleth for words. The Elder was glancing to his side, lost in his own churning thoughts.      "As Shibboleth informed my Ravens," Crow said. "The MoonQueen doesn't just want a massive squashing of the rebellious element. One, our food crop has lessened in the last ten years—spilled juice is not desirable. Two, the Warm Ones are covering up very well. Our Mistress wants somebody with a good eye." He glared at me. "Someone with a very good eye."      "Not just that," Shibboleth added, "but someone who understands the ways of places away from The Citadel, some-one who is sensitive, who can perhaps look at the Warm Ones and read them better than most."      "Sounds like me," I said acidly in a low tone. The Elder stood up again, as if not getting enough of the scenery. "It is you, Byron. You will be an example and you will be redeemed.  Small feat for someone like you."      "And example?"      The Elder sighed. "Yes, an example, Byron. The MoonQueen told me personally that she believes that we, as a species, are growing soft. Not exactly soft, but perhaps complacent, lacking in dynamics. It's been almost a century and a half since The Holocaust. When the nuclear winds settled and the endless ash blotted out hateful Sol for decades, we rose from the rubble of what we caused as the supreme species. The new offspring of Our Mistress, who gives birth to all of us from her black womb, almost starved but were able to find the Warm Ones, those who survived."      I felt a speech coming but this one struck me with a certain melancholy.      He turned his head and regarded us both. "And thus came the city-states, wondrous metropolises in the wastes where the Stargazers could thrive with new technology. Of the five built, how many are left, Byron?"      "Let me see," I said slowly. "Two failed, disappeared; we believe a massive radioactive surge or an earthquake on the west coast obliterated Rice City and New Tenochtitlan. Hard to tell, long-distance travel and communication is so hard. Then there was Utopia, New Atlantis, and Xanadu…"      "We know what happened to Utopia." He leaned on the desk to make sure I heard him loud and clear. "The first of the city-states, our cradle."      "At least we know the rumors," I commented.      "Blasphemous idiot!" Crow snapped. "The MoonQueen, who originally dwelt there, told us what happened. It was the Warm Ones who revolted and sabotaged our facilities. I ought to—"      He was silenced by Shibboleth's risen hand.      "Please, Lord Crow. We are not here to prove Mr. Byron's character. That will be proven very soon. And then it will be judged."      "By whom?" I asked, for the first time feeling like a prisoner of some didactic ploy. "Our Mistress? The Elders?"      "You will be judged," he said firmly. "Our civilization, new as it may be, even though Stargazers roamed the earth since the beginning of time, must evolve unhindered. We have lost much, Byron, we have much to gain. You must understand that once, some of the wiser ones hunted in the open, underneath the stars and a naked Luna. That is why we baptized our kind with a name that makes sure they always remember, hope for, and seek that time when they can hunt under stars and a naked Luna. One of these nights, the atmosphere will cleanse itself and the land might grow. It's taken much longer than we had theorized, but when that happens, when we can see the stars again, it is our intention to have as many city-states, separate yet united, ready to converge in the greatest empire this planet has ever witnessed. And morale and example are good ways to begin. We do not want to grow lax, for nature is still harsh and ingenuity is scarce. We will not become soft as the Warm Ones did in the end. We will move forward! That is my duty as an Elder." He pointed to the silver rose pin that all Elders wore. "We are like a rose—beautiful, enigmatic, but ready to prick anyone if their growth is disturbed.  Do I make myself clear?"      I wasn't looking at him. My gaze was fixed on Luna, a bloated tangerine dangling between veils of sickly clouds, always watching the land, always filling our kind with hope, with hunger.      "Perfectly clear." I matched his sight, and raised him infinity simply to show him that his speech hadn't worked that well on me.

Bryon has no choice but to accept the task, eventually leaving Xanadu and investigating one of the Farms, where he will meet human Shaman called Medea, who will change his existence forever.


 •  0 comments  •  flag
Share on Twitter
Published on May 27, 2011 09:54
No comments have been added yet.