Interzone #216, June 2008

Interzone #216, the special Mundane SF issue, guest edited by Geoff Ryman, Julian Todd, and Trent Walters, exhibits spectacular artwork by Christopher Nurse and offers seven original, earthly stories full of change and hope, what Ryman maintains are the cornerstones of science fiction.

Opening the issue is “How to Make Paper Airplanes” by Lavie Tidhar. In this generation X meets Joseph Conrad journey, a small band of men—shop owner, geneticist, engineer, and kava-pop inventor—reflect upon life and love on the South Pacific island of Ureparapara. Self-perceived losers, the men comment that they are “at least out of harm’s way” and doing “something useful,” as echoed by the paper plane dynamics of their Sola base.

Science provides a cameo-backdrop in this cross section of makeshift technology. From a broken MP3 player to a coconut oil generator, the story focuses on technological possibility and social boundaries—religion and sexuality—hinting to the menace the characters might be, if only they were in the world proper. It’s a menace worth further exploration; Tidhar’s language, organic characterizations, and exotic setting would certainly fuel further works, preferably longer ones in order to allow the setting and characters a more gradual unfurling. Still, Tidhar’s up close and gritty characterizations entice the reader, painting a paradisiacal volcanic bay society where one village cannot communicate with the other, a lack of communication due to mismatched technologies with which the natives appear content. Tidhar writes with a keen eye for perspective, relationships, and controversy while allowing his readers unbridled exploration of boundaries and possibilities.

In “Endra—From Memory,” Chelsea Quinn Yarbro spins a salty tale about a captivating heroine, Captain Endra YuiduJin, and her search for the legendary utopian island, Simoon. With in-depth nautical descriptions, this story takes the reader out to sea and to exotic ports where the narrator, aptly named the Trading Monitor, falls for Endra when her ship, the Empress FahrenDier, docks at Lavrant City. Endra woos everyone on the docks with her mere presence, most notably the Trading Monitor, who subsequently finds her at the Blue Pelican and over drinks listens as Endra speaks of Simoon and its foretold treasures. In her telling, she comments on the futuristic water world setting, as brought on by environmental shifting.

Yarbro’s ships and ports cameo a peppering of scientific technology: lightning guns, palm recorders, and robotic guards left aboard ships to safeguard valuable items such as high grade plastic and lumber—wood being a rare commodity. The detailed nautical descriptions highlight both structural components of ships as well as the art of sailing; though, as engaging as the nautical descriptions were, this reader wanted more in character exploration and relationships, as these seemed to be an intended point of focus. Where the Trading Monitor lends his perspective, the conflict really seemed to center around Endra and her search for Simoon, but, due to Yarbro’s choice of narrator, the conclusion left this reader wanting to know more, firsthand, about the final legs of Endra’s journey. The characterization of Captain Endra is intriguing, and I would like to read more of this heroine’s adventures.

“The Hour is Getting Late” by Billie Aul is a musical tour through Virt, a virtual reality interactive system where Jessica, a Virt critic, battles with her ex-spouse, Jaykwees, in an attempt to retain her independence both personally and professionally. Faced with constant pressure from both her ex-spouse and his fans, Jessica must balance her desire for freedom with her desire for success in the face of constant comments from the participant fans who desire to see her reconciled with her ex-husband, who Jessica finds manipulative. Distraught over conflicted emotions toward her ex-husband and the responsibility she feels to the fans, Jessica attempts to circumvent Jaykwees’s advances, but Jaykwees pulls no punches. Using steamy honeymoon footage, he creates a visual image that fans and Jessica alike cannot ignore.

This story takes an interesting spin on artistry while using metaphorical wall images that effectively foreshadow the conclusion. In this 2044 Woodstock revival, “MelodyHue” takes center stage as a combined sound and color technology. Though a bit confusing in description, MelodyHue poses an interesting sci-fi vehicle whereby fans can feel and see music as it’s played. The cross-section of music from Hendrix to Dylan provides a nice anchor for classic rock fans, although I would have liked to have seen a stronger combination of images and music at the end.

In “Remote Control,” R. R. Angell offers a satirical observation through the eyes of a first-person guard/narrator who monitors civilian gamers known as “Johnsons.” Johnsons pay for remote control time and use of government weaponry—weaponry used to control the U.S./Mexico border. The plot has many angles that, had they been woven into a longer work, might have unraveled more seamlessly, but in a shorter venue, the many layers and characters, at times, felt compacted.

Angell digs into the highly charged issue of border patrol, pointing out inherent primordial drives and what cyber-killing might be with real-world applications. Pushing both ethical and moral debates, Angell taps into controversial topics such as M-rated video gaming and government cover-ups. To further complicate the plot, legal and PR interests raise fine-tuned questions on the seemingly cut-and-dried issue of to kill or not to kill. As if that conflict weren’t enough, Angell adds further twists—an anonymous gamer who cracks the system with a bogus credit card, the realization that gamers may not be shooting at what they assumed to be the target—leaving the reader guessing until the very end. With the current bloody video game industry and governmental focus on border patrol/illegal aliens, the world of this story does not seem farfetched. Angell makes readers consider the responsibilities that technology places on a less than perfect society and the implications of remote control killing.

“The Invisibles” by Élisabeth Vonarburg portrays a futuristic, domed society described with lovely detail and imagery. What appears to be an epic journey to a clinic located in a separate dome turns into something else entirely, as the protagonist ends up in an unfamiliar environment—a refreshing change to the usual stagnant and nature-depleted surroundings. By the end, this reader was surprised to find that the experience was not what I expected, as Gisele and Tybald, are “diverted” by an “entertainer.”

Unfortunately, the beauty of this piece is consistently undermined by the use of second person which, at times, could have easily been avoided by simply leaving the pronoun out. The point of view choice, a seemingly experimental vehicle for a conclusive narrator shift, falls short of being effective, and while the concept of diversion is an intriguing one, it was a bit difficult to follow in parts. Still, as the story progresses, the point of view distractions either decrease in severity or are able to take a backseat to the sensory descriptions, letting the reader feel the world Vonarburg has created—from descriptions of fish women to historical pulse points and the rich, haunting tones of Billy Holiday. And viewpoint and clarity issues aside, the language, all in all, offers a feast of images.

“Into the Night” by Anil Menon is a touching portrayal of perspective and generational clashes, as seen through the eyes of an 82-year-old Brahmin man. In Menon’s well-anchored setting, Ramaswamy travels to Meridian after the death of his wife, for whom he harbors bitter resentment. He must now rely on the good graces of his daughter, a daughter for whom he never seemed to afford much faith. Ramaswamy’s distance from those closest to him offers an in-depth characterization of life at its close and the difficulty inherent in change, especially when change is not a choice but a necessity. Most provoking is Ramaswamy’s loss of connection to the world rooted in his dead wife, whom he describes as his memory keeper. Without her, he must try to navigate the challenges of a modern world alone, a world, moreover, well accepted by his daughter. She tries to help her father see it by offering him a “visor,” glasses to provide him with a more detailed perspective and descriptions of what he sees. Still, Ramaswamy’s battle with the world does not cease, evidenced by his views on the spiritual versus scientific, where his spiritual and simplistic views act as refreshing foils to the complications around him. Father and daughter strive to connect, but both realize in the end—most notably demonstrated in a chance encounter Ramaswamy has with a stranger on a park bench—that, after all, life is full of unexpected surprises.

The characterization in “Into the Night” is enjoyable, even humorous at times, with gritty reminders of the highs and lows that life can offer. Menon writes with a strong voice, leaving room for individual interpretations and reflections. He focuses on the craft of life, the story of people—the kind of stories preferred by this reader—and leaves technology as setting, using it as a vehicle for thought and possibilities.

In “Talk is Cheap” by Geoff Ryman, “Walkers,” robotic human simulations with a capacity for learning, look for love, navigating the patterns that govern it. With seemingly human expectations and self-esteem, Walkers explore mating rituals between classes—broken down into animal categories marked by temperaments: dog, hamster, dolphin, and shark. The first person narrator, who identifies with the dog class, falls for a lovely and seemingly creative friend, Jinny. In an attempt to win her affections, the narrator reprograms himself to share interests with her, a masking ritual much like human courting. Through Turing, a communicative link used by Walkers to discuss and share images, they share witty exchanges and lighthearted images reminiscent of a 1900s society ring juxtaposed with a modern day cyber-romance—instant messaging and all.

Ryman mixes technological content masterfully as a backdrop to the characterization. His descriptions are tightly woven and spot on, combining imagery and metaphor to not only envelop the reader, but also trigger Pavlovian responses. In a world where robots are the Walkers of life, the reader is left to ask, “What good are humans, anyway?”

[Disclosure notice: The Fix is brought to you by TTA Press, publisher of Interzone.]