The Last Reef by Gareth L. Powell

In his introduction to Gareth L. Powell’s The Last Reef, Jetse de Vries says:

When reading (and re-reading) the stories in this collection, it strikes me that most of them are set on the edge of tomorrow—some so close to the here-and-now they could be history in a few short hours

De Vries goes on to describe Powell’s collected writings as a “tightrope dance” poised upon the cusp of today and tomorrow. These near future tales are neither utopian, nor dystopian, nor anti-utopian. They are reality as it might be just around the corner and the riddled imperfections that might logically ensue. In The Last Reef, Powell holds a cross-section of science, nature, and technology in his quintessential human hand and gives it a roll across the universal table. What turns up is an eclectic mix of possibility, tragedy, and hope—a gamble worth betting on.

In “Sunsets and Hamburgers,” a resurrection SF tale, the protagonist finds himself reborn:

My first thought is that I don’t remember dying. They tell me nobody does. It’s like trying to catch the exact moment you fall asleep; when you wake, it’s gone. You may remember feeling tired, you may even remember starting to fall asleep; you just don’t remember the transition, the actual moment when you passed from one state to the other.

In a seemingly utopian setting, robot doctors provide a “snow shaker” bubble of paradise for the protagonist and his perfectly matched mate, Marla. They live in a seemingly reflective existence of what their life would have been without the whole death, reanimation thing. The world is a wasteland, and they are possibly the last two people left to carry on humankind, but what happens when the robots leave?

In “Sunsets and Hamburgers,” a first person journey into post-apocalyptic re-colonization takes a turn from the average, using simplistic and focused-spotlight storytelling. In a reality where parenthood sometimes feels like an island existence, cut off from the world and living on packaged resources, this story really is not so far from the current reality.

Reef: a rock, sandbar, or underwater feature, just beneath the surface, often hazardous to floating vessels.

Reefs come in many forms; sometimes they are obvious, and other times, they can be the brooding motivation beneath. The singular predator that grazes the surface of love and hate.

A lone quad bike rattles across the frozen Martian desert, kicking up dust. Riding with the wind at his back, Kenji’s been on the move since first light. In his oil-stained, dust-covered white insulation suit he looks strangely out of place, conspicuous. Above his breathing mask, his wary eyes scan the horizon, looking for trouble but finding only emptiness. Apart from the domed town up ahead, a few hills beyond, and the faint glow of the Reef’s skeleton, there’s nothing to disturb the brooding desolation.

Kenji, a Security Advisor for Tanguy Corporation, finds himself caught in the aftermath of a love triangle, an underwater playing field shared with his ex, Jacklyn, and her lover, Lori. To complicate matters, the Corporation looms over the trio as an invasive predator, hunting them. Kenji must travel the frozen Martian desert to find the two women, one who he still loves, and the other, one he must accept, but will he accept the inevitable and be the hero, or will he seek vengeance?

Kenji is certainly a sympathetic character put in a difficult situation. It is in his journey, his choices that the reader is drawn to, a human plot in an alien world. Resonating with its familiarity, the science fiction setting is both intriguing and uplifting, even in its tragedy. This story is highly recommended.

Change and opportunity meet various states of coping in “The Redoubt.” For those well-fortressed, a redoubt might defend the first line of reasoning, the first tier of justification. For Scott and his love interest, Anna, opportunity is a journey to the stars, and it presents itself to them via an alien space pirate named Hook. Scott and Anna must traverse their own forts and bunkers in deciding whether to stay or to go. Scott, especially, struggles, gripped by this life-altering decision.

Most interesting here is the dual symbolism of the redoubt. Is it the invisible boundary placed within? Is it the church where Scott and Anna first glimpse the shadow of change? This story asks “What would you do?” and it is not a question easily answered. Deeply reflective, this allegory reflects the world as it is now and as it might be.

In “Ack-Ack Macaque,” Andy is in love with a “half-Japanese girl” called Tori. Ack-Ack Macaque is the manga monkey that Tori animates in their split-level flat above a butcher’s shop on Gloucester Road. When Tori leaves Andy, his world turns dark. This tale of love, chaos, and technology has a sharp edge that spirals into a tight eye—the eye of the storm, so to speak—and this eye is on integrity, truth, and love. It’s a bohemian war song that echoes through Andy’s existence no matter where he seems to go. And when Ack-Ack Macaque takes on reasoning abilities, chaos ensues. 2001: A Space Odyssey’s Hal has nothing on the little monkey in charge. For readers with a craving for the dark, disorderly, and clever, this is your story.

In “Pod Dreams of Tuckertown,” a dystopian setting, characterized by criminals working to pay off their debts, offers a rather shadowy view of the future. Written in third person, it lacks an emotional closeness that first person might have given it.

[D]ay after day he works on the bridge. The wind burns his skin, the sun makes him squint. But he gets through it by thinking of Kai, and remembering how good things used to be—how great it was when they used to hang out together at the diner by the docks in Tuckertown, where they could see the lights of the trawlers and laugh at the stink of the last of the day’s fish guts being hosed off the quay.

Kai is Pod’s dead beloved. Pod harbors the rage one would expect from a criminal working off his death, but he also shows a loyalty and sense of justice that gets him into trouble. However, the conclusion felt rather incomplete at a few climactic points. This is not one of Powell’s finer pieces in this collection, but it certainly offers a view into the future, or at least what the future might hold for the criminal element.

“Six Lights off Green Scar” is about chance and courage. Sal Dervish, a washed up captain, gets a second chance at bravery, but does he still have what it takes to choose the path less taken?

Roulette ships were dangerous and sexy. They were small and fast and tough. Their hulls were black tungsten alloy laced with smart carbon filament. They looked a bit like flint arrowheads. The media called them “roulette” ships because they were used for random jumping.

Random jumping is the equivalent of Russian roulette. One bad jump, and ship, captain, passengers, and cargo have a one-way ticket to banishment, or worse, death. What lies in the outer regions? Tamara Vance, a reporter, wants to find out and cajoles Dervish into another jump.

Dervish’s past makes the trip with him, pushing him to dig deep, broadening the story’s characterization of him. Anyone who has ever made the wrong choice or wishes he could go back and do it again will connect with this story, this character. The conclusion leaves much to the imagination but still answers the question of what Dervish is made of.

A random act of brutality sets the introduction for “Distant Galaxies Colliding”:

It was a damp afternoon in November, and wet leaves blew down the narrow streets. I ordered tea at a pavement café near the Seine while I waited for Candy to arrive. When she did, she was carrying a white cane and wearing a cheap pair of plastic sunglasses. She’d been mugged by a teenage gang on the streets of Hamburg. They’d stolen her camera and sprayed paint into her eyes.

The narrator tells the story of Candy, a photographer. They travel as tourists to exotic, European locations, enjoying each other and revealing a sense of clarity between them. The characters and their interactions reveal a certain sadness, containing truth and tenderness. This story could play out in any town, any city, anywhere in the world. Powell’s evocation of personality and subtle description take the center spotlight here. The conclusion resonates with a bittersweet acceptance organic to plot and characters.

In “Falling Apart,” Kadie approaches her ex-husband, who is terminally ill, with a chance for life and redemption aboard a residential cruise ship for the super-rich. The Magellan is a floating utopia with medicines and treatments. Our heroine is definitely not going to take “no” for an answer, and yet, she must navigate her way and that of her ex-husband’s with the down-to-earth wits and abilities of an average, everyday girl, a girl with spunk.

The craft in this tale is strongest in its subtle detailing and, again, Powell’s adept attention to relationships, dialogue, and the mundane. Though this piece reads more like a vignette in the larger “reef,” it certainly offers an insightful look at reconnected lovers, even if their reunion is only for a little while.

Nick Malik is a user. He knows how to manipulate people and how to survive bad situations with low odds of success. “Morning Star” is Nick’s story and tells of how he might regain some semblance of integrity.

Pia is his pseudo love interest, addicted to Rhapsody, the drug that Nick supplied her so that he can steal from her. When Nick realizes that the Morning Star is about to hit town, he must make a run for his life. But, now that his life might be in short order, he must also tend to his soul. Will Pia slow him down? Is saving her worth the risk?

A morning star might indicate Venus, a beacon of light, or it might indicate a club—a heavy hitting weapon adorned with spikes. In this story, the spikes might also be a path to enlightenment, the details that complicate Nick’s journey and escape. It is Nick’s complications, his concerns that could be his saviors. The conclusion contains an unexpected twist that resonances nicely, providing an entertaining thrill ride to freedom. Though Nick may not be a nice guy, he is the guy worth betting on.

Continuing the impending doom theme, a cameo from “Ack-Ack Macaque,” the Napoleonic monkey, “A Necklace of Ivy” offers another vignette, complete with lovers and an undercurrent of death.

Bombs have started raining on nearby towns, and the protagonist follows his girl, Debs, into a fantasy adventure of hide and seek. With ever-growing frustration, he calls to her. This vignette echoes ridiculous scenarios that everyone, regardless of age and manner, might get themselves into at the world’s end. Reason and logic, even in science fiction, sometimes takes a back stage. Oh, the things that lovers do.

Set in Buenos Aires, “Hot Rain” cameos Kenji, the security specialist now working for Garcia. Garcia’s little girl has been cloned, and the clone has been kidnapped. If Garcia does not pay the ransom, the girl will be tortured and killed. Kenji must find the girl, overcome rising complications, and save himself. Kenji is another testament to Powell’s mastery of characterization. He isn’t exactly the good guy, but he isn’t the bad guy either. He’s an easy guy to root for.

In the “The Long Walk Aft,” Kurt, currently on watch and maintenance, must find a way to survive when the ship’s automatic kitchen has been compromised and runs out of edible bio-food. He needs at least a dozen kilograms of organic matter to sustain the system. But where, oh where, will he find organic matter? This dark journey through space has a Swiftian spin that entertains. A bit lacking in social or economic plot arcs, it is not a full satire, but it is a strong short-short story.

In “Arches,” Ed Rico receives a call from his sister-in-law, Alice, about an arch in her field. So he jumps into his car and heads over. What happens next is a journey through space and time, an interesting look into time-warping and quantum physics. When Ed and Alice meet a scientist on their trip, they learn that turning back isn’t really an option, and so they truck onward to the future and further complications. The wormhole mechanization in this piece offers a creative twist on iconography and science. The depth of character and relationships backlight the building tensions and the plot’s complications, making for a great ride.

Toby Milan lives in a floating shantytown of cargo holders in “Flotsam”:

Some ships are tied together, linked by gangways and laundry lines, while others stand alone in the gathering twilight, each a separate neighbourhood in its own right, with its own customs and hierarchies.

When Shweta, an old flame, shows up unexpectedly, Toby expects trouble. Uncertain of Shweta’s intentions, he recounts his own failings in their relationship, seeking redemption by helping his previous lover, but is it too late? Set in the Mediterranean off the flooded coast of France, the imagery is nicely rendered. As Toby finds the lost hero inside himself, he also finds tragedy, and the end is only the beginning as he, too, succumbs to the underwater presence lurking just beneath the surface.

“Cat in a Box” is the story of Verne Turner, a freelance shipping agent. Client Herschel Blake comes to Verne with a box inlaid with precious stones and a proposition—immortality or death, perhaps both.

The premise is certainly interesting; the box sets up a backdrop of intrigue and tension. Unfortunately, it falls flat in a few areas, namely to do with Verne’s choice to engage in the proposition as well as the ending which felt cut short. For animal lovers, the box might be a difficult element to accept. Additionally, this question is never adequately resolved. “Cat in a Box” is not this reader’s favorite piece in Powell’s collection.

Overall, Powell’s depth and breadth of characterization work, and his settings are truly impressive. His work displays a willingness to show truths and flaws for what they are, rather than gratuitously exaggerating only strengths. With his instinct for subtlety, Powell is an author to watch. His work is the spyglass of science fiction, the ship just over the horizon.

Publisher: Elastic Press (Aug. 2008)
Price: £5.99
Paperback: 200 pages
ISBN: 0955318173