Triangulation: End of Time, edited by Pete Butler

Triangulation: End of Time, edited by Pete Butler, is a diverse collection of stories that all share the theme the “end of time.” Each of the twenty writers within its covers puts their own spin on the idea, with storylines that range from zombies overrunning the Wild, Wild West to a time-traveling Star Wars fan and tropes that include the requisite alien/monster invasion, freak accidents, and the manipulation of time. Many of the authors have taken the opportunity to skewer facets of the contemporary era. Some do it so effectively they raise interesting questions not only about what the end may be, but also about the events or behaviors that could lead us there.

The anthology kicks off with “A Job for Life,” a slyly humorous piece of flash fiction by Ian Creasey, and a great beginning it is. The unnamed narrator puts the ultimate spin on what it means to be a civil servant. The piece’s brevity works well here; the narrator’s babbling never quite gets to the point of becoming annoying, whereas it might have in a longer work.

In “America is Coming!” by Dario Ciriello, Salvatore and Peppino are waiting for America to approach. Literally. It seems that America is devouring Europe, and making a risky voyage to the relative safety of the devouring continent’s shores is their best chance for survival. It’s a completely improbable end-of-world scenario that will either enchant readers or make them shake their heads. I suggest going along for the ride. “America is Coming!” is fun and engaging, although the narrative thread does dwindle a bit toward the end, but it manages to maintain its lighthearted, absurdist tone throughout. I especially loved the part involving faulty suspended animation technology and the sleeping Americans.

“Morris and the Machine” by Tim Pratt begins with a relationship gone sour; Penny blocks the door to the basement in order to get Morris’s attention. It seems that Morris spends all of his days—and half of his nights—locked in the basement, working on his creation, while his wife, Penny, slaves away at her job. The crowning blow for Penny comes when she’s just managed to wipe out their debt, only to find Morris has spent all of their money—both what they have and what they don’t—on his machine. It’s a novel beginning to a time-travel tale. And while Morris succeeds beyond his wildest dreams, at the same time, he is an abysmal failure. Readers will undoubtedly find the ending poignant—the taste of Morris’s despair and the feeling of his hopes rising before being dashed. Pratt manages to craft an elegant little tale, maybe one that will inspire readers to sit on the floor and pore through a box of old photos or letters and think of the one who got away.

When Billy Ray gets in a gambling dispute with a bunch of Indians in Jeff Parish’s “That Ain’t a Mosey,” he ends up almost getting skewered by an arrow. Luckily for him, he’s only grazed. Luckily, that is, until his good fortune morphs into a fever and illness with symptoms nobody, including the local doctor, has seen before. The next thing you know, the whole town seems to be coming down with a cantankerous, ravenous disposition. Billy Ray’s faithful friends, the ones who took him to the doctor, get caught in the middle and try to salvage what they can out of the situation. Considering the “end of time” theme, it’s not hart to anticipate the shambling undead turn this tale takes.

“That Ain’t a Mosey” never moves beyond the scope of routine zombie story. The only departure from the standard dead-folks-overtake-the-countryside/suburbs/mall is Parish’s choice of setting—the untamed, turn-of-the-century American West. If Parish was trying to make some kind of political allegory, he never quite succeeds. And, like most zombie tales, “That Ain’t a Mosey” is needlessly graphic. As such, I’m afraid I can’t recommend it.

In “Late” by Idan Cohen, Cole Bishop went on a bender and now needs to get to his wedding. Cole doesn’t let a little thing like the end of civilization as he knows it keep him from reaching the church. In fact, it seems he would rather face torrential rains and crumbling buildings than the wrath of his beloved Mariah. Personally, I’d like to believe that when the end of the world comes, most of us will be doing something mundane, or at least routinely everyday. Still, the abstractness in “Late” appealed to me, and Cohen imbues it with just enough whimsy to make the end seem not so bad, after all.

I didn’t understand most of “Near Absolute Zero” by Jetse de Vries, probably because philosophy was never my thing. However, and strangely, I still enjoyed every word. Nigel Jackson, a scientist, committed a horrible act, killing a lot of people and significantly slowing the progress of an important project. But at his own trial, he never explains his motivation or rationale. Ms. Hall’s job is to get to the root of the matter and discover the missing pieces, using whatever methods she deems necessary.

As a protagonist, Ms. Hall is sharply drawn and has a distinct take on how to accomplish her objective, while Jackson appears to be the epitome of a mad scientist—although in the end, he proves to be anything but. Their world is an interesting one, as are its priorities and concepts of morality. Ms. Hall and Jackson are both multidimensional, to the point that a reader can almost see the escalating shades of gray, which serves to keep both them and their situation interesting. Unfortunately, I didn’t really understand what was at the heart of the end of the world matter, so I can’t really speak to de Vries’s resolution. I suspect it’s a good one, but you’ll have to determine that for yourself.

As I read Michael Stone’s “The Bridge,” I kept wondering how old the protagonist, Manley, was. I pictured a ten- or eleven-year-old boy, a child old enough to know better, but not nearly old enough to care about life and death and the sound toast makes in your head, even if it turns out to be the last sound you ever hear. A fun piece of flash that makes “the end” into something quite personal.

In “Surface Tension” by Kurt Kirchmeier, Rallo holds a universe in his hands, as does every member of his race. His home world is dying, so each citizen takes a turn at the well of life, tossing their own tiny universe in, in hopes that it will expand and spark new life. Some die quickly, others burst forth only to fade. With each failure, the possibility increases that Rallo might be the one member of his race who has the ability to spark new life on his world. But Rallo is torn, seeing visions of devils as he teeters back and forth between the promise of this potential to renew his world and so put an end to a cycle that has allowed his civilization to thrive and what it might cost to hundreds, possibly thousands of others.

I liked the allusion to the mutability of Rallo’s people and found it interesting that the author used the standard Christian representation of temptation. But I really loved the descriptions of the well of life ritual, its participants, and the potential of each tiny universe. While this wasn’t the most compelling story in the anthology, I loved Kirchmeier’s use of language.

The concept I found the most appealing—in a perverse way—was in “Conversation in an English Pub” by D.K. Latta. A traveler goes back in time to track down H.G. Wells, haunted by constant reminders of a past assignment: Mary Shelley. His mission is to get close to Wells for long enough to complete his assignment. I can’t say what the actual assignment is, other than the ultimate goal is to change history and thus impact the future. Even though this was quite short, I found myself going through endless permutations in my head after reading it, wondering who else might be on the traveler’s list and who might haunt me most were I in his place. Any story that can keep a reader thinking long after they’ve finished it is definitely a keeper.

The title and its significance of Ashley Arnold’s “Time’s Arrow is Not Your Enemy” shifts as the reader progresses through the story. If I were a typesetter or an editor, I would probably find this quite distracting. As I’m neither, I thought it added to the fun.

“When We Have Time” by Matthew Johnson is something of a futuristic retelling of the song “Cats in the Cradle” by Harry Chapin. It’s easy to imagine the events that unfold really happening in some not-too-distant future. Contemporary society—at least in Northern California where I live—maintains such a frantic pace at times that the situation Kevin finds himself in is all too plausible. It’s sobering to realize that such events may be a mere few decades down the road.

How can you help but love a story that has a character quoting Alfred, Lord Tennyson as “Hurricane Watch” by Rebecca W. Day does? Starting out relatively ordinarily, it devolves into an experience that will forever change the face of the world, although not in any way originally anticipated. Day’s story gives a modern twist to Lovecraftian horror, without delving too deeply into any Cthulhu-type mythos.

Keturah’s main motivation seems to be a desire to experience something more powerful than humankind and its machinations, something humanity will never master, no matter how great our endeavors or novel our technology. In this case, that something is a magnificent storm. The money she is making to work the event, although seemingly important—at least initially—is nothing compared to the chance to connect with nature. The other characters are interesting enough to move the plot forward, but don’t get enough face time. I wanted an opportunity to learn more about Mirabelle and the rest of them. They seemed mostly to be the bored and idle rich, hungry for something, anything, to shake them up and spark some excitement in their lives—even if that something is the end of the world. These characters and their motivations could have been explored in more depth to flesh out a longer, richer story than the one presented. Nevertheless, it’s excellently paced, and the reasons behind the wealthy patrons’ behavior, coupled with Keturah’s yearning for something more, drive the story and make “Hurricane Watch” a great read. Although I could see where the author was going toward the end, I appreciated the ride.

Another time travel tale, “This is the Way the World Ends” by Trent Walters is presented in three parts. The beginning and ending segments focus on Elvis Xavier, who works as a janitor but secretly longs to explore the world. What starts out as a dead-end job and a small case of hero worship—for Walt Disney—turns into the adventure of a lifetime. The middle segment, about Noah, a misanthropic toymaker, wasn’t quite as compelling, but was nevertheless necessary to further the plot.

“Defender” by Scott Almes has a twist ending reminiscent of O. Henry’s classic “The Gift of the Magi.” But “Defender” is a grimmer, darker take on life and what might happen in the wake of a hostile alien invasion, not dissimilar in tone to Robert A. Heinlein’s Starship Troopers. Much of the ground covered here has been explored before, typically in a better fashion. And while I like Almes’s writing, I didn’t find much that was original in this offering.

In “Ice Age” by Jessica E. Kaiser, Tommy spends his days tracking down and capturing endangered species in the hope that they can be preserved for future generations. He recently lost one partner and starts to develop an attraction to his new one, who, unlike the last one, is young and female. Although she doesn’t return his interest, she does get him thinking about his priorities and about the kind of existence he leads. “Ice Age” is yet another depressing commentary upon contemporary society. In Kaiser’s vision, people have lost sight of what’s actually important and have become caught up in preserving things that no one may be left to enjoy. While I liked the characterization, I hated this concept of the world’s end. Still, I should give her credit for making me think.

“The Shopping Cart People” by Terry Hayman examines the lives of two adolescents, Jer and his stepsister, Em. Both are at the age when it’s cool to be daring and to bend the rules, and the opposite sex is something miraculous and new. Firmly ensconced in suburbia, they could be teenagers anywhere in America—an important factor as the plot unfolds. Events start innocently enough—grocery shopping, peanut butter, and also a nagging feeling—but end in bloody genocide. If you’re the queasy type, take the warning in the beginning seriously. “The Shopping Cart People” is quite visceral, and some of Hayman’s prose may evoke images and smells that not only solidify story details but may also bring about a bout of the queasies. There’s a lot to ponder here. Who are the real victims? And who really does the victimizing? Although what’s on the page is disturbing and ugly enough, it’s the details and events that Hayman doesn’t describe—formulating ideas about the lead-up to the violence—that linger.

“Final Episode” by Katherine Shaw starts with our protagonist picking up a cute, blond guy who claims to be from the past. Luckily for him, she just broke up with her boyfriend and has the room (and time) to spare. Shaw’s time-travel tale liberally references the seventies as well as contemporary pop culture, even managing to work a Star Wars movie into the title, which lends “Final Episode” a sense of nostalgia and modernity which I thoroughly enjoyed. Most time-travel tales focus on change (the past, the future, the present). In this case, the time traveler leaps forward into time to learn something, and in the process, he gets to experience what his future holds. I’m not sure this properly qualifies as a tale of “the end” so much as one of renewal or a fresh beginning. Still, I really got a kick out of it.

While there is a lead character in Jared Axelrod’s “In the Belly of the Desert,” science gone amok plays the starring role. The world is being swallowed by a manmade desert, and it’s out to get the person responsible for creating that desert. Fortunately for him, the desert is a harsh and unforgiving mistress. She devours his enemies, but he knows that in the end, she’ll get him, too, someday. I loved the notion of a force of nature as a contaminant. Relevant to today’s climate issues—that we’re turning our planet into a desert through global warming—the idea that Axelrod explores of quickening our demise is a sobering one.

In Sue Burke’s “Think Kindly on Our Fossils,” the comet Kabandha is on its way to wipe out the planet, and Travis Hudson can’t believe his, and the rest of the world’s, misfortune. In the span of three pages, Travis swings from doomed disillusionment to acceptance, hitting every imaginable low en route. His reaction, although perhaps not one everyone might have, is at least understandable. Burke effectively presents and explores a wide range of emotions in this short-short.

The universe is dying in Geoffrey Thorne’s “Eshu and the Anthropic Principle,” and all that’s left is the god Eshu and a few stubborn bits of matter. Having nothing better to do, Eshu decides to explore the dying realms and see what, if anything, can be found and discovers many things, including himself, along the way. This story cheats a bit with its take on the anthology’s theme, spanning both endings and beginnings. But then, it’s to be expected that a story that deals with the doings of gods would have a dual nature. Eshu is an incarnation of Loki, the trickster god of Norse legend, and it becomes apparent towards the end that at least one of the other three gods who appear know him well enough to count on his contrary nature. I’m a fan of the idea that nothing ever really ends, just changes form, and that there’s always something new to learn, even for gods.

The best thing about Triangulation: End of Time is its breadth. With 20 authors offering up their personal takes on “the end,” each story is distinctive, and the whole is well worth a read, especially on a rainy or snowy winter afternoon.

Publisher: PARSEC Ink (July 2007)
Price: $12.00
Paperback: 160 pages
ISBN: 0615152805