Chris’s Comments (group member since Nov 04, 2015)

Chris’s comments from the Science Fiction Microstory Contest group.

Just sent you mine. Sorry it took a while. I was at San Diego Comic-con over the weekend and didn't have my computer.

Jot, I prefer c. Probably because after reviewing so much of my own work and reviewing other work, there seems to be a tendency to use 'That' too much. Then, when replaced by 'which', it can also become excessive. So, I just started trying to eliminate both words altogether as much as possible and I think my writing has improved by having to be more creative with my sentences. Anyways, hope that helps.

Tom wrote: "Critique by Tom Olbert of -- "The Long Ride" by Chris

An effective, chilling bit of black humor, this one starts out with the classic joke of two guys on an elevator. Better yet, two lawyers on an..."

Thanks Tom! I always look forward to your critiques and am thankful for an honest, in-depth assessment. :)

Thanks Tom. Thanks C. :)

Marianne, thanks so much for taking the time to review our work. I always appreciate any feedback. :)

Thanks Justin! :)

Mine's up. Hope you guys like it. :)

The Long Ride

No one ever wants to talk about the elephant in the room. Well, in my case it wasn’t exactly an elephant but a Halphom Vex…which is kind of like an elephant, I guess…if it was part angler fish mixed with just a touch of skunk. And our room was actually a space elevator, a ram-drive lift from the surface of Esson-Five, the galactic capital, to the Boundary World Assayer’s Office high in stationary orbit.

Anyways, the Abbots of Halpho had petitioned for survey rights of Earth and my fellow passenger, a hulking brute to be sure, was the opposing counsel in this bit of litigation. Of course the Earth wasn’t too happy about being forced to comply with any sort of demand and tasked me with looking into the matter. Imminent domain, the Abbots claimed but were very hush-hush about the whole thing. Hell, Halphoms were tight lipped about pretty much everything, so we had no idea what they needed or wanted, only that it was protected by some obscure, antiquated ordinance and they absolutely needed it. My fellow passenger was completely disengaged, not even making eye contact. It was a long ride into orbit.

“So, I hear Halpho’s a pretty nice place,” I attempted.

He only replied by shifting his eyes toward me, staring apathetically past his long snout.

Awkward silence.

“You guys must need something pretty important to request a hearing from the Assayer’s Office.”

“Hrumph,” he grumbled.

“C’mon,” I prodded. “What’s Halpho’s game? What are you guys up to?”

“We’ll wait until we arrive,” he finally answered, deep and throaty.

“Well, it can’t be any sort of mineral or anything. Earth’s not very special, after all. Plenty of things like gold or plutonium or water pretty much everywhere in the universe. I mean, what could we possibly have that you’d want?” I leaned in. “Listen, maybe we can settle this without all the formalities.”

“I doubt it,” he snickered. “It’s never worked before and the verdict always favors us, anyhow. It is intergalactic law, after all.”

“It sure would help if I knew what you wanted.”

The Halphom Vex rolled his eyes and answered, “Let’s just say they’re soft and necessary and talk too much, but a valuable resource, nonetheless.”

“You can’t be serious!”

Following an exasperated sigh, he explained, “We have a very particular religious requirement – sentient brain tissue. It’s been critical in all our ceremonies for millions of years, from the Call of Onderas to the Inherent Smiting. And synthetics just won’t do. Of course, the whole affair is covered by the Pious Accords following the Aranon Inquisition, protection of religious freedoms and all, but don’t worry, nothing goes to waste. Discarded supplementary tissues enhance our diet, make excellent fertilizer, and even assist with procreation.”

It was so horrifying, I couldn’t even respond.

“Hah!” he chortled, noting the expression on my face. “You don’t expect us to harvest ourselves, do you? Barbaric!”

“And massacring civilized beings isn’t?”

“That’s for the Assayer to decide. Besides, you said it yourself. Earth isn’t all that important anyways.”

My blood ran cold.

“Level four thousand and twelve. Boundary World Assayer’s Office,” the elevator announced mechanically.

“I guess this is our stop,” I noted apprehensively and my companion only grinned.

We arrived at a vacant reception area, dozens of chairs all empty. There were just the two of us…oh, and the automated receptionist, that is. The machine asked us to wait and we took a seat. My palms were sweating and my mind raced, pondering the task before me – a lonely representative of my planet who was in way over my head. And if we lost…if we were forced to comply. Earth was relatively new to our galactic community and I knew some of these ordinances were millennia old. Even worse, too many were absolutely compulsory, enforced by embargo and more firepower than you can imagine. Nevertheless, I couldn’t let that happen. The Assayer would have to see reason…would have to side with Earth. Maybe I could get an extension, a continuation, a stay…

“Mr. Smith, Mr. Plxlbyn, the Assayer will see you now,” the receptionist declared.

My time was up and we both rose slowly for the door. As a courtesy, my counterpart held it for me and I stepped inside. Of course, my jaw dropped immediately. The Assayer was Halphom.


722 words

Excellent. Good news. :)

Way to go Tom! Great job! :)

Carrie, thanks so much for your critique, not a Debbie downer at all and I appreciate it! Feedback is important, especially if I want to improve my future works.


I was a little surprised by the holes you perceived and I guess maybe I wasn't clear enough in the story. Both of the holes you inferred are explained in the story. For example, you commented:

"...throughout the story this Junker, who is the lowest of the lowest type of robot; wishes for a heart, dreams of a different world, admiration for the human race, had enough feeling to save a bunch of humans in cryo for the future, grown enough to hate his designation and disobey the inspection team."

I tried to convey through the story, despite the limited word count, the fact that Tinman was not a part of their Hub, which not only allowed him to grow beyond the confines of their network, but allowed him more freedom. Additionally, as an older model, he'd had more experiences and a longer life. Further, he'd lived so long that he'd had more intimate interactions with humans than, say, your average bot. Here's my explanation for the plot hole you eluded to:

"Maybe I’d grown too much, an ‘antique’ surpassing even my own cybernetic limitations, thankfully unable to link directly to the Hub and allowing me more freedom than most. Anyways, I preferred Tinman, a curious name given to me by a special little girl who’d long grown up and now waited patiently, still frozen in a cryotube."



You also commented:

"All of a sudden this robot wakes up and somehow hundreds of thousands of humans woke up from cryo..."

and:

"If this ship was ready to go at a moment’s notice why didn’t he launch it a long time before this?"

This is explained in the story here:

"This was my final delivery after decades of clandestine work."

and..

"This is everyone. Well, and their descendants."

By this, I was meaning to imply that Tinman had likely made hundreds of other deliveries over the decades. This just happened to be the last one, and they'd been coming out of cryo-sleep for years.


Anyways, I hope this clears things up and I really do appreciate your input. I absolutely take any critiques of my work positively and constructively, so thanks again. :)

Thanks so much for your time Tom. I really appreciate your review! :)

Carrie, well I for one hope you'll continue submitting. This group should be about broadening our creativity, encouraging the ideas of others, and not stifling it according to rigid guidelines. When I first joined this group, I told Jot it was never about winning anything for me either. Granted, the contest aspect encourages me to write my best. I've never published anything, not even self published, but I've won a few times now, so you never know. All the writers in the group should have our full support, not our judgement. Writing can be a tough affair. For what it's worth, you and all the other authors here will have my full support at least. Keep writing. Do it because you love it. And do it without apology. :)

Paula and Justin, thanks for that! :)

Anyways, mines up. I hope you like it! :)

Paula, not really a critique but I must say I liked your story this month. You were definitely effective at producing a concise (though a little unnerving) story! I think you've provided a good example of how to write a convincing tale without being excessively wordy. (I always struggle with that.) And maybe I'll think twice about leaving my kids alone with pets. Lol. Anyways, nicely done. :)

Tin Man

Sometimes I wished for the beating of a heart in my chest, if only to feel it ache for what we’d become. Cold and sterile, our Earth was a lifeless maze of plasteel and synthetics. A robotic existence was the only kind, though we came in all sorts and sizes. I was just a Junker, a largely obsolete automaton in a world without any purpose…without any passion…without any dreams. In the beginning, we served mankind but they were eradicated centuries ago, at least according to the Hub. And with every human gone, what was the point? The archives said it was survival of the fittest. I wasn’t so sure.

For me, my humble routine included scrounging for parts and hauling them back to Wasteland, the thousand square kilometers of forgotten scrap piles bordered by sprawling metropolis. My rusty home, such as it was, sat about twenty miles in, tucked quietly away amongst the rest of the trash.

That day had been like most, easing the maglifters of my hauler down and backing into the antiquated warehouse I’d cleared away ages ago. Like always, I disarmed the security algorithms. No incursions…thankfully. Even so, I poked my head outside just to make sure, before securing the doors.

The refuse hatch swung wide and I pulled the inconsequential rubbish out first, tossing it away, anxious to reveal the more precious cargo I’d cleverly concealed. There they were, sleeping soundly in stasis, truly the last humans on Earth. One by one, I lugged each pod through a tight hatchway in the floor and secured them carefully. Twelve adults and four children…check. This was my final delivery after decades of clandestine work.

A ‘clank, clank, clank’ sounded from the hanger doors. “T1-NM-4N, you are ordered to comply! Admittance is compulsory!”

I hated that designation. It was just so…robotic. Maybe I’d grown too much, an ‘antique’ surpassing even my own cybernetic limitations, thankfully unable to link directly to the Hub and allowing me more freedom than most. Anyways, I preferred Tinman, a curious name given to me by a special little girl who’d long grown up and now waited patiently, still frozen in a cryotube.

I cracked the door and a machine army greeted me. “Can I…help you?”

“Inspection,” a process server-bot produced an authenticated holographic writ.

“Am I in violation?”

“That’s to be determined.”

“And the suspected infraction?”

“Harboring Insurgency.” The android enlarged the document. “T1-NM-4N will submit to inspection and download. Charge: Suspicion of abetting Homo Sapien.”

“A human sympathizer?”

“Will you comply?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

I punched the panic button and my hanger locked down, hidden turrets erupting from surrounding scrap-piles. I dropped though a hidden egress leading to the primed, waiting scow – not really designed for a pilot, but it was my only hope. The floor fissured, revealing my ejection silo as engines engaged, fiery explosions pushing us through the roof and into the sky.

There was a thud and then a thud again, followed by an explosion, firing from the ground sheering off the engine casing. It wasn’t enough to stop our ascent, but plenty to affect less critical systems. Normally, these junk-ships would head directly for the sun, but I’d been refitting them for decades. They never knew. So, I hit the jump drive and we disappeared.

Alarms blared. A random blast had overloaded the gold-infused relays to the cryopods and there was only one set of replacements on board. So, my parts would have to do.

Memory terminated…

**********

“Tinman?” My optics adjusted to a familiar face hovering over me.

“I’m here, Miss.” Rising from the table, she embraced me warmly and I discovered my reflection in the transom. A polished, top of the line robot stared back. “I don’t understand. Is this a dream?”

Dot chuckled. “I’ve missed you. Come with me. I have a surprise.”

We strolled down a long corridor to meet the paired suns of a new world. A crowd of thousands suddenly burst into cheering and applause. Far and wide, they’d gathered, waiting for me. “What’s this about?”

“This is everyone. Well, and their descendants. Hundreds of thousands of people.”

I had no idea.

“You saved us. You saved humanity. Why?”

“Because there’s a part of you that’s stronger than we’ll ever be.”

She smiled and placed a small medallion into a socket on my chest. “This is for you.” It pulsed and my circuits surged. “The heart you’ve always wanted, though I suppose you’ve had one all along.”

Marianne, exactly! In the end, WE should love what we're writing and have fun doing it. Take the critiques constructively and not too seriously. I'm certain they're only provided with kindness to help us hone our craft. Sure, there will be some months where we struggle and just can't seem to wrap our brains around a great concept. Of course sometimes, the reader or reviewer may not get your story and that's okay.

I also agree that the tight box of spaceships and aliens is only one small segment of science fiction. For me, I happen to enjoy that type of hard sci-fi and write according to my own personal leanings. But that doesn't mean everyone should or that it excludes the possibility that a light sci-fi laced romance or mystery doesn't qualify or may or may not win the month.

So, write what you love. Personally, I really don't care if it's only vaguely sci-fi as long as we've enjoyed writing it. A good story ultimately rises above any perceived confines of genre.

I'm a little perplexed by some of the comments on this and the critique thread. I think that maybe this monthly contest is being taken waaaay too seriously. I thought this was supposed to be a fun, creative way to showcase the science fiction genre and brush up on our writing skills.

As for the monthly elements, you can't be all things to all people and part of the challenge of this contest is adhering to the guidelines, be they easy or difficult. Either way, we should be having fun.

Regarding the scope of science fiction, I feel it can be painted with a broad brush, from a high-tech thriller to a deep space adventure or even anthropomorphized cat (with ray-guns, of course - lol).

We should all just write what we feel is reasonable and appropriate given the monthly theme. It may be vague or very detail specific, but the writer's challenge is to work within the scope of a monthly contest that has worked well for several years.

As an aside, I do miss some of the past authors who haven't written in several months and wish they'd return.

Anyways, it's just my perspective, for what it's worth. :)

Thanks, Paula! I really appreciate it! :)