Clarkesworld #201, June 2023

Clarkesworld #201, June 2023

“The Officiant” by Dominica Phetteplace

“Day Ten Thousand” by Isabel J. Kim

“The Moon Rabbi” by David Ebenbach

“To Helen” by Bella Han

“Vast and Trunkless Legs of Stone” by Carrie Vaughn

“Imagine: Purple-Haired Girl Shooting Down the Moon” by Angela Liu

“. . . Your Little Light” by Jana Bianchi

“Mirror View” by Rajeev Prasad

Reviewed by Victoria Silverwolf

Seven short stories, none very brief, and one novelette, not very long, fill the electronic pages of this issue.

The narrator of “The Officiant” by Dominica Phetteplace is the child of human colonists on a planet inhabited by native aliens. Since childhood, the narrator has experienced visions, explained as being produced by a white hole in space.

The narrator, whose profession is officiating weddings, is sent to another world to perform this function for the robots who dwell there. Their real motive, however, is to share the narrator’s visions in order to learn the whereabouts of their ancient ancestors, who were responsible for the technology that produces the visions.

Complicating matters is the alien ambassador who accompanies the narrator, whose true goal is to open relations with the secretive robots. In addition to this, the narrator faces the possibility of losing a lover.

As is obvious from this lengthy synopsis, the story’s background is very complex, and only becomes clear slowly. The premise is interesting, if somewhat mystical for this kind of science fiction. The author deals with themes of family, ritual, relationships, and religion, as well as speculative concepts. Perhaps this is overly ambitious for a short story.

The astute reader will notice that I have avoided using gendered pronouns to describe the narrator. This is because the character, as in many first-person narrations, is hardly described at all. (Unless I missed something, the narrator is never even named.) Although we go deep into the narrator’s thoughts, it is difficult to picture the character.

“Day Ten Thousand” by Isabel J. Kim is a postmodern work that is difficult to describe. Part of the text deals with a man on a space station who discovers that he is the clone of an ancient man whose corpse was preserved in an icy climate. Other portions present various versions of the original man’s death, as well as what seem to be parallel worlds with yet other variations of the character. There are also sections in which the narrator (who may or may not be yet another version of the same character) directly addresses the reader and discusses the suicide of a young woman.

The author goes so far as to admit that some of the narrative tricks found in the story are ineffective. This self-referential technique may appeal to readers more interested in the nature of fiction than in the story itself, but is unlikely to engage those hoping to suspend their disbelief.

The narrator of “The Moon Rabbi” by David Ebenbach agrees to serve briefly as a rabbi for moon colonists, after wandering from job to job while mourning for her dead brother and for the state of the world. The experience gives her a new perspective on life.

As can be seen, this is a work driven by character rather than plot. The narrator is appealing and the story is told in a realistic, convincing manner. There are no exciting incidents in the text (unless one counts the narrator’s reaction to her first experience of space travel) but it makes for pleasant reading.

“To Helen” by Bella Han, translated from Chinese by the author, takes place at a future time when the rich can afford surgery and regular injections that prevent aging. The narrator pays a visit to a college acquaintance whom she has not seen in a quarter of a century. The two women discuss the sacrifices they both made to afford the technique, as well as the homeless women who mysteriously appear in the wealthy part of the city.

The author creates a vivid portrait of a seemingly utopian future that conceals a hidden underclass beneath its opulent surface. The story deals in a serious and thoughtful manner with the themes of aging and inequality. The two main characters are created in a sensitive manner, so that their conversation serves as more than simply exposition.

The narrator of “Vast and Trunkless Legs of Stone” by Carrie Vaughn is chosen to be the first person to meet with one of the aliens who have just arrived on Earth. The aliens specifically demand that the human representative not be a leader, but merely an ordinary member of the species. During their meeting (not a negotiation, but just a conversation, according to the aliens) the alien asks the narrator a strange question, the answer to which may have serious consequences for humanity.

Narrated in a realistic, matter-of-fact style, the story is an unusual and believable variation on the theme of first contact. The alien’s inquiry provides much food for thought as to what matters in human culture. The aliens’ reason for visiting Earth is also unique and interesting.

The short novelette “Imagine: Purple-Haired Girl Shooting Down the Moon” by Angela Liu is the issue’s longest story, although not by much. The narrator works as a strange sort of artist, somehow using paint to create illegal neurological creations that can be downloaded into the brains of clients. (The same kind of “artwork” is also used to clear away the bad memories of her companion, although this has the side effect of essentially making her a different person.)

She also works in a brothel. These two careers come together when a client of the brothel asks her to create a so-called painting for him. Working on her own, instead of for the criminal enterprise that sells the paintings, carries the risk of severe retribution from her employers, leading to a tragic ending.

This is a very grim story with the flavor of cyberpunk. The premise of neurological art is intriguing, if implausible. (The process somehow involves ink and paint, which is difficult to imagine.) Fans of dystopian fiction, in which the best possible outcome for the characters is simple survival in unpleasant conditions, will best appreciate this depressing work.

The narrator of “. . . Your Little Light” by Jana Bianchi is the only survivor of an accident that kills everyone else aboard a generation starship. She is forced to take shelter in a part of the vessel that houses an alien animal. To add to her desperate situation, she is pregnant and near the time of giving birth. The possibility of rescue seems remote, and she expects that she and the baby are doomed to die in a brief time. During her ordeal, she forms an emotional and physical bond with the extraterrestrial beast.

This story is a sentimental tearjerker, definitely designed to appeal to the reader’s emotions. The alien animal is an imaginative creation, although its condition, relevant to the plot, may seem overly coincidental. The ending also strains credibility, contradicting what we are told at the start.

“Mirror View” by Rajeev Prasad is the issue’s shortest story; again, the difference between it and other pieces in the magazine is not very great. A vast alien entity composed of metals and minerals arrives on Earth, transforming itself into a huge mirror when it lands in Chicago. Naturally, hordes of people come to view the weird phenomenon. A young pregnant woman, mourning for her dead mother, is transformed by the experience of viewing herself in the mirror, which transforms its reflections in various ways. The alien also learns something.

The story is told from the point of view of the alien, which is a fascinating creation, if more of a symbol than a believable being. As with the previous story, this one is designed to appeal to the heart rather than the brain, particularly when it comes to the experience of childbirth.


Victoria Silverwolf thinks this issue has a lot of first-person narration.