Escape Velocity #2, February 2008

Adventure Books of Seattle brings us the second issue of the full-sized, glossy covered Escape Velocity: The Magazine of Science Fact and Fiction, which contains thirteen stories (seven fewer than the debut issue) and an assortment of articles, interviews, and poetry in its ninety-four pages. The first issue, in the corresponding review here at The Fix, was characterized as a fine but uneven collection of tales, showcasing mostly new talent, and this description can also be applied to the second issue. The rewards and perils remain largely the same.

Kaolin Fire engages in some “Testing” in a short-short about a group playing a game of cards with very high stakes. Fire provides tantalizing hints of an apocalyptic backdrop and suggestions about what may have happened to land the group of characters in their current harsh predicament, but the story focuses on the card game and the “testing, testing” message, mostly through dialogue; while this choice helps the story establish momentum quickly, it also shortchanges our emotional investment to a degree and makes it harder to grasp what is happening. I read this story several times, and while it didn’t exactly grow on me, I did appreciate it more with repeated readings. The slip from past tense in the second paragraph (“a table sat…”) to present tense in the fourth paragraph (“The tone drones on…”) remains a distraction-—especially considering the past tense returns a few paragraphs later. Perhaps I would have enjoyed it more if the storytelling had been more conventional. Despite these reservations, there is just enough in this tale for me to recommend it, though with a word of caution to any reader wary of violence.

“The Appliance of Science” by Sheila Crosby is a cleverly titled, mildly diverting story about a man who, having crippled his legs in an accident involving a kitten and apparently having plenty of time and money, has built intelligent appliances and must endure their insupportable dispositions once he has outgrown the pleasure of their company. These A.I.-enhanced appliances have annoying conversations that drive him to desperation, so he does what he must—without really surprising results. While this story was entertaining enough, and its light tone and short, peppy sentences made it easy to read, it didn’t offer anything the genre hasn’t seen before (and handled more bitingly). I enjoyed the references to the local culture of Santa Cruz de Tenerife in the Canary Islands and the pacing of the story. The writing, especially in the opening scene, could have used more polish: Jose “moaned softly,” then “he mumbled,” then “Jose groaned,” then “he mumbled,” “he mumbled” again, and then “he muttered.” The intelligence of the appliances is achieved through wand-waving, which I would have been more content to accept if the consequences of their “personalities” had been less predictable and the protagonist more involving. The emotionally based ending is at odds with the purported zaniness of the earlier parts, and this shift in tone robs it of lasting effectiveness, making it feel somewhat desultory. The story has its heart in the right place, but a few technical encumbrances prevent us from accepting that “the right place” in this case should really be the cool interior of a walking, talking fridge.

Duane Byers delivers “The Zozoian,” a short-short whose protagonist, the eponymous alien, seeks refuge from a torrential downpour by boarding a bus, in the hopes that our deadly Earth water will not kill him. Failures in logic kept me at a remove from this story. Without giving away particulars, towards the end, the Zozozian is revealed to have an ability that directly negates any dramatic tension established earlier, making the situation trivial, rather than truly threatening. How can his present experience remain uninformed by his past uses (explicitly alluded to in the text by the phrase “this time”) of his ability? What are the consequences of its application? More importantly, if water is such a problem to aliens in SF, why do they keep coming to a planet that’s three-quarters poison? Other than these conceptual issues, I found the writing professional, engaging, and effective. One minor repetition jars, considering the short length of the piece: “The Zozoian waited with impatience” in the opening line and then, “he elbowed his way impatiently” in the second paragraph. I wish the storytelling would have been put to more interesting use.

“Meeting Vanya” by Viktor Kuprin is a delight to read. In this short-short, we travel to the Arctic in nineteen sixty-one, where the Russians are engaged in intense scientific experimentation—in the form of Vanya (a name which, we learn from Wikipedia, is aptly enough the male diminutive of the Russian, Bulgarian, and other Slavic given name Ivan, meaning “Gift of God”). The writing is effective in depicting the time and the place, building the scene through the accumulation of details and external description. There’s plenty of action (more than in most regular-length shorts), and our attention is held throughout. While the ending is not entirely revelatory (viewers, for example, of the revamped Battlestar Galactica have been treated to the same scenario) it does add a moralistic grimness that succeeds in bringing this short-short into even sharper focus. This is a rendezvous readers shouldn’t miss.

“Borrowed Time” by Gustavo Bondoni explores the perilous fate of a group of human colonists stranded on a planet thirteen lightyears behind the lines of humanity’s dreadful foe, the telepathic Andreans. Commander Hawthorne is faced with impossible choices and does what he must to preserve this pocket of humanity. But, with the appearance of a new star in the sky, will it be enough? If reading this brief description invokes a sense of familiarity, it is only because all of the elements in this competently written story are in fact familiar, from the protagonist’s Luddite philosophy as a counter-alien response to the “exoskeletoned, hive-oriented” aliens (who are telepathic but apparently cannot influence human minds). The story feels like it keeps introducing new elements—and then comes to a conclusion. While there is nothing individually to fault with these elements, a legitimate question is: do they add up to a cohesive whole? The three main sections in the story jump forward in time and are told from two different perspectives. As a result, they are weighed down with infodumps that explain what has already happened, and before much happens in the here and now, we again move forward in time and receive more exposition to help us catch up. Interesting ideas, like the Graveyard of Ships, are mostly under-explored, and while the story works moderately as a character study, it is less directly involving because of the exposition. Overall, this feels like it packs in too much for its length and therefore falls short of conveying the emotional impact of living on borrowed time.

Henry Tjernlund offers us “Fresh,” a short-short about an empire of proliferating life-forms that must struggle to save itself from extinction due to over-reproduction and the rise in temperature—with a not-so-surprising surprise ending. As an ironic cautionary tale I suppose this works, but it will probably prove forgettable to the experienced SF reader. This loaf of fiction is safely baked several degrees short of crusty, but is a far cry from fresh.

In “An Empty Kind of Love” by Adam Colston a female android, K9-12L5-R, discovers that her ability to elicit sexual responses from her partner, Peter, has inexplicably decreased during the last year. Like any self-respecting ambassador of artificial getting-it-on, she has herself checked out (not like that), and when she receives the results of her diagnostic, she does as she must to redress the situation. This is a strong story. The narrative moves at a brisk pace and contains enough captivating detail to maintain our interest, and the tone balances finely between sardonic detachment and horror, the one feeding off the other. While the ending is conceptually satisfying and on a par with the high level of the rest of the story, the specifics do seem somewhat gratuitous (would this be necessary in the context of the suggested social situation?). The first half of the story also seems more polished in comparison to the second, which contains some unfortunate repetitions. “An Empty Kind of Love” is a satisfying speculative tryst. I hope it’s not a one-night stand and look forward to more from Colston.

Michael Anderson provides a breath of chilling “Air” in this bleak story about an old, emaciated survivor of a worldwide catastrophe that has rendered our atmosphere unbreathable. He has been living in a sealed off room, consuming oxygen tanks stored in a warehouse that used to supply hospitals; but after years of this meek existence, his air is running out, and he prepares to venture into the outside world one last time. Though there are a few moments of cliché (“he gasped like a dying fish”), Anderson steers us clear of melodrama and heavy-handedness, and aptly conjures an aesthetically pleasing atmosphere of despair and austerity. The psychology, in particular, of the old man is sophisticated and grimly realistic, drawing us into his desperate plight and conflicting impulses. There is a sense of confidence and maturity to Anderson’s storytelling which beckons well for the future.

“The Cost of Living” may be too high in Shaun A. Saunders’s entertaining, satirical story about a married couple who receive an unexpected visit from an agent of Sunny Futures Insurance. They don’t remember signing up for the policy, and yet the insurance agent claims the policy has come to term. What gives? The immediate extrapolation of individual’s mounting debt and brand-naming of everything, as well as the influence of advertising, is fun but decidedly not new territory (see, for example, Frederick Pohl and C. M. Kornbluth’s The Space Merchants, originally published in 1953). The writing is good enough to make this satire sizzle, but not quite pop.

Dan Kopcow lets loose a “Cyber-Tooth Tiger” in his story about a man living in 2040 who has just moved to a new neighborhood. In this future, most people’s identities are synonymous with Reality TV shows, which results in people having long names like Amazing Roof Tennis. Inevitably, the protagonist’s next-door neighbor, Harry, is up to something. Kopcow presents a fresh blend of ideas and makes use of quirky detail and technological speculation to build an engaging story, despite starting with an overplayed premise. The character development and ideas are complementary, leading to enough newness to keep our interest. I found the shift in the story’s tone from deadpan humor to paranoid horror too abrupt, but considering the narrator, that may be part of the point. The story’s conclusion emphasizes the satirical element, but I think the story works best as a character piece.

Derek Rutherford imprisons his characters in a cell made of “Silver” in this well-written tale about a group who has committed a crime and are offered a deal. The protagonist, Hershel, wants to go “down” after having been “up” for many years and prizes his memories above all. But things are not as they seem. While the idea of smuggling air raises scientific questions, this story is constructed tightly. Rutherford has a talent for dialogue and for providing insight into his characters through speech. His writing is economical and considered, and as a result, the story’s pace is quick. A superior entertainment.

In “Mindreader” by Nick Wood, the first-person voice of Sally, a child counselor/researcher, guides us through her work with autistic children in a future world consumed by “Terror Wars,” where ordinary citizens wear gas masks. When Sally’s supervisor, Dr. Brown, informs her of some disturbing news regarding the direction of her research for eliciting empathy in autistic children, it’s up to Sally to cope with the changes as best as she can. The story contains skilful writing and a well-measured sense of scene, of place and time. The characters are engaging, and the concerns Wood raises are thought-provoking. Sally’s inner thoughts play out against external events nicely. I did think the story could have been just as effective by being a little shorter and ending with a larger payoff. Emotionally, the climax is well-received, but what about the conceptual extrapolation? Does it go far enough? Perhaps the author sacrificed a little in the interests of morality—or perhaps this type of story should not be expected to provide conceptual razzmatazz. Let the reader judge. What there is dovetails well with the protagonist’s voyage. Nick Wood has written a story that speaks to us clearly and poignantly, so that one doesn’t need to be a mind-reader at all to find enjoyment in it.

In the final story, a short-short by Paul Freeman, the King of planet O-Tulp makes preparations to launch war against humanity because of “The Insult” we have unwittingly cast upon them. This is more of a one-concept vignette than a story and is effective in getting us to read to the end. That doesn’t really compensate for the moral preaching (when describing Terrans, “the sword is the only language they understand”). Enjoyable, but fleeting.

This issue’s lone poem is, appropriately, “Planet X” by Magdalena Ball, a wistful musing on one of the Solar System’s outer dwarf planets, UB313 (also known as Eris). I enjoyed the way Ball used scientific notions and imagery to make a statement about human perspective.

To round off this issue’s review, let me summarize the non-fiction offerings. “Coincidences in Non-Fiction” offers intriguing facts and a promise of more to come, hopefully delivered in the framework of a more cohesive argument or approach. “Ten Strange Things That Could Happen to You Using Future Technology” has at least three interesting items, which is a success for a list meant seriously only in part.”How to Burn a Chicken—Using Astronomy for Worldbuilding” is the best article of the lot. While short, it doesn’t skimp on the science and is a must for writers and readers alike. “Photo Feature: The 50th Anniversary of Explorer 1” works as a very high-level overview and includes a handy recap of fast facts. Considering the limitations of space and black-and-white printing, the photos aren’t bad. The interview with literary agent John Jarrold by Geoff Nelder, “A Science Fiction Literary Agent Spills his Secrets,” promises much and delivers little. We are treated to sixteen questions with very short responses from which we hardly glean anything useful at all, let alone partake in any secret-spilling. Finally, we have a “Space Wordsquare Puzzle” I could have done without and an enjoyable “Sci-Fi Cartoon Page.”

Despite the trappings of hard SF present in some of these tales, and the astronomy-centric features, this issue contains enough thematic and stylistic diversity to keep us turning the pages. I’m not sure if the retro-feel that seems to pervade the whole enterprise is a deliberate harkening to older days in SF or simply a reflection of the editors’ personal tastes, but I suppose in the final analysis, it’s not too relevant, except to signal that savvy readers expecting cutting-edge fiction may be disappointed. On the whole, this issue has enough professional velocity for us to escape from reality—as long as we don’t mind a few shudders and knocks along the way.