Strange Horizons, January 2, 2012
“MonitorBot and the King of Pop” by Jessica Barber
Reviewed by Dave Truesdale
“The last song and dance number that Izzie Valdes performs in the Elegance Retreat Resort and Spa’s Weekly Michael Jackson Tribute Spectacular is ‘Thriller,’ copyright 1982 MJJ Records.” So begins the first fiction sale of Jessica Barber.
Izzie is 28, and performs Michael Jackson classics on stage to supplement her income (she also teaches youngsters ballet three times a week). Her brother Omar is on the run from the authorities as a member of the rebel army (rebelling against what is never explained; the reader is left to assume any number of the usual reasons). Therefore, Izzie is under constant governmental surveillance should her brother attempt to contact her. Her computer is obviously monitored, as are her whereabouts at home and while performing her weekly Michael Jackson performances by the story title’s MonitorBots. (Perhaps her brother is rebelling against Big Brother and its constant intrusive monitoring by the ubiquitous bots?)
In any case, the MonitorBots are everywhere, replacing even the backstage stage hands at her weekly performances, doing her makeup and tending to her needs. Rather innocuous little helpers we are led to believe at first, but when one surprisingly appears in her apartment for a “routine check” we learn that the author has given these bots some amazing abilities, which are rather obviously lifted from the second Terminator movie (Judgment Day) where the now evil Terminator can shape-shift into anything–including a blob of mercury (or whatever)–and in this case slide beneath Izzie’s apartment door and then reshape itself. (A bit later on we learn that it can also form a sheath encasing Izzie’s body, take control of her muscles, and then shows off some of its abilities, such as super-speed, climbing tall buildings, and flying off roofs).
So government control is indeed everywhere, and it’s a frightening thought, right? Yes, of course. Until, that is, this particular bot reveals it is a fan of Michael Jackson’s music and Izzie’s performances. Uh-huh. So it gets to know Izzie, convinces her to let it help her gimp knee, and then reveals to her that it can shift form in order to hide upon her person so it can also enjoy the thrill of her performances on stage. Imagine, if you will, an amorphous, shape-shifting robot working for the government that is a closet Michael Jackson fan and stage exhibitionist, loving the spotlight!
Suffice it to say that eventually Izzie and her (hidden upon her person) bot pal come home one day to find human authorities ransacking her apartment. Her brother has been captured and just when she is to be handcuffed and taken downtown for questioning (she is sure she won’t be set free even though she has done nothing wrong, and is threatened with force if she fails to comply), she runs across the floor of her fourth floor apartment and “flexes her thighs, her calves, the soles of her feet against the ropey strands of metal there that are growing, flattening out, encasing her. She focuses on the night black sky, and leaps.”
End of story.
I hate to be so harsh, and doubly so for a first sale, but less than professional quality work by any writer in a professional venue does no service to anyone.
End of review.
Strange Horizons, January 9, 2012
“In the Cold” by Kelly Jennings
Reviewed by Dave Truesdale
On the planet the colonists have named Winter the small population lives in biodomes, protected from the howling winds, the cold, and the never relenting snowstorms. The sociological structure is comprised of Firsts/Adults, Seconds/Adolescents, and the New Ones/Infants. Out on a walk to the edge of her dome, one of the adolescents (the protagonist) receives a distress call through her com-link; a young boy and his unmoving mother have crashed on the outside and need immediate help.
The adult in charge — the Chair of Executive — must make a difficult but practical decision about whether or not to send out a rescue party immediately, during the height of the blizzard, and risk losing precious dome heat assuming they can even definitively locate the boy and his mother, or wait until the storm abates sufficiently for the attempted rescue. Our young adolescent silently agrees with the initial decision to hold off, realizing it is the correct choice, even though she has promised the young boy that everything would be okay. She now feels guilty for not fulfilling her promise, but reconciles her grief by helping out in the nursery where she imagines one of the newly born might now grow up to be Chief of Executive precisely because the current holder of the office made the correct decision by placing the safety of the dome first.
The obvious parallel to Tom Godwin’s classic “The Cold Equations” notwithstanding, the story is so short and negligent in providing any real emotional tension of any sort that it just left me cold. The author failed to create any palpable tension (perhaps from the young boy’s point of view, which is non-existent after the first distress call), and the young protagonist would have made the identical choice as did the Chief of Executive, so what’s to care about? That she feels a little guilty for not being able to save the boy and his mother (who may have been already dead), is not brought home to the reader; the words lay flat on the page. And her guilty feelings are short-lived and not deep, for when one of her friends assuages the twinges of guilt she feels in just a few words her sad feelings seemingly behind her, she merely goes back to caring for the New Ones and hopes one of them might grow up to be the new Chief of Executive.
In “The Cold Equations” the story’s power emanates from the heart-wrenching emotional involvement we feel for the stowaway who must ultimately be jettisoned into space to die; it makes the story what it has become today — a classic. With “In the Cold” we are given none of this (regardless of the point of view character chosen here), but only a sterile shell of its iconic predecessor.