On Spec #98, Fall 2014Reviewed by Nicky Magas
In an interesting take on the classic alien story, Janet K. Nicolson writes “Chance Encounters” from the point of view of an exceptionally intelligent border collie named Chance. Something is invading George Hankshaw’s ranch in Swift Current, Saskatchewan. It’s completely outside of Chance’s experience, but it’s his duty to investigate, regardless. George keeps him locked up at night however, and the rest of the cattle dogs don’t believe there’s anything unusual out there at all—until they see the first dead cow. Now, Chance has to find a way out of the barn on his own to uncover and stop the unearthly perpetrator before it strikes again.
There are some interesting aspects in this story. The communication between dogs, for example, is refreshing and entertaining. Unfortunately, much of the rest of the story falls short. The point of view never really feels like it’s completely with the dogs, making the unique ways Chance interacts with his world seem filtered. Chance spends the bulk of the narrative observing and speculating from within the barn, and the final reveal and confrontation is neither revealing nor confrontational. The reader doesn’t come away from this story with a clear idea what role the aliens played, or why Chance felt such an affinity for them, despite his inner monologue reminding the reader of his duty to protect the herd. There’s a lot of potential in “Chance Encounters,” but it doesn’t quite live up to expectations.
In Brent Knowles’s “A Primer on the Ins and Outs of Building Bliss,” Levi, a researcher at Western Catholic tries to construct a perfect afterlife through diligently observed human simulations. Though it’s not strictly by the book, Levi decides to break with his mentor Professor Mandall’s policy of non-intervention to tweak the life of Carol, one of the simulated personalities, so that her death results in the creation of a harmonious afterlife. But every alteration he completes only makes things worse for Carol. This simulation is quickly running out of time. More and more it seems that they are chasing after an impossible dream.
Due to the back and forth nature of the point of view shift between Carol and Levi, and the alterations in the simulation that result in a seemingly new version of Carol with every switch, the reader finds it difficult to gather solid footing in the story. The brevity of each scene likewise does not help the reader form an attachment to either Carol or Levi, therefore rendering their respective struggles incapable of sparking empathy. Finally, despite the creation of a workable afterlife being the end goal of this research, the reader isn’t given any indication as to whether or not this has been achieved. Carol dies an old woman as a result of Levi’s meddling, and Mandall dies a withered old man in an ironic, dispassionate twist, but as to an afterlife, the reader remains in the dark.
In a parallel universe where humans and dinosaurs exist together, how does one velociraptor conform to modern human society? In “Walk the Dinosaurs,” Jayme Allen gives us the answer plainly: he doesn’t. The velociraptor, as he is named, has just moved to Ottawa to be with his fiancée Maria. Trouble is, he can’t hold down a job being, well, a velociraptor. When he finally lands a position at a New York Fries, things go from bad to worse as a small accident ends in the murder of his boss, forcing Maria to terminate their engagement. Life’s tough when you’re a velociraptor.
While the premise of humans and velociraptors living together and even intermarrying is interesting, “Walk the Dinosaurs” quickly escalates into absurdity, and raises more questions about this speculative world than it answers. The characters and their reactions are overly theatrical, giving the story more of a slap-stick tone than perhaps was originally intended.
“Sunchild Blues” by Al Onia is an interstellar story of human transcendence. Solona has a gift. She can alter or remove or observe things at any point in time and space, separate from her own body. So far she has been using her abilities to maintain the generational ship that her husband captains, and to look for new worlds they might colonize. Time is running out, however, as each use of her gift weakens her physical body. The ship is dying, and the zealous Council doesn’t want to abandon the Vision of advanced human evolution in space. Solona is stretching herself thin, but her dream of putting her daughter on solid ground is strong, perhaps even stronger than her body itself.
Unfortunately, while the premise of “Sunchild Blues” is intriguing, the execution is mediocre at best. The prose is filled with clichés, tin-eared dialogue and clunky exposition in addition to confusing or contradictory statements, and poorly detailed world building. Most of what is interesting in the narrative feels as if it were included to fill plot holes, appearing at all too convenient times and leaving the reader stumbling over pieces of crucial information too late in the story. The confusion in “Sunchild Blues” is only increased by its length, which makes it a tedious and exhausting read.
Artificial intelligence has come a long way in Melanie Marttila’s “Downtime.” Opus is the cybernetic organism created by lovers Natalie Upshaw and Eric Johansen. It has been uploaded with selected works of literature and film culture and, perhaps erroneously, given not only the ability to self-learn, but the directive as well. It’s an ingenious bit of programming and engineering not immune from envious eyes. While the lusty Opus reprograms itself closer and closer to full autonomy, someone plots criminal mischief and outright theft behind the scenes.
Stories about artificial intelligence have a tremendous potential to explore the depth and boundaries of emotion, identity and what it is that makes us human. In this regard, “Downtime” is a disappointment. Opus is presented as being fully aware and capable of assimilating human thought and feelings, yet the impact of world discovery, self actualization and the progression of rational thinking is missing from the short clips the reader is allowed in between its downtimes. What passes for a burgeoning self-image and identity is an Electra complex which itself fails to add drama to the story. The gaps in Opus’s advancement are made more noticeable by the first person narration of the AI, which acts more human with each passing scene while leaving the reader wanting to know more about the intricate transition from machine to soul.
In Allan Weiss’s Jewish fantasy “A Little Leavening,” the wizard Eliezer is in a bit of a sticky situation. He absolutely must make it to Barshalom before nightfall to attend the ceremony of first seder, but his holy curse commands that he give his aid to any who request it—and the residents of the sleepy village he’s lodged in have many requests. When it becomes clear that he’s not going to be able to leave in time to make the ceremony, Eliezer takes a bit of wisdom from his horse and decides to hold first seder right where he is. Unfortunately, in his zeal to get every detail exactly right he terrorizes the villagers and forgets the true meaning of the feast. Only a special guest can put Eliezer on the right path now, but does the curmudgeonly wizard have an ear to listen?
Not being a part of the Jewish tradition, I found this one a little difficult to understand. Many of the foreign words and concepts are given little context, leaving me to form my own meaning for them. “A Little Leavening” has the feeling of a serialized story in that Eliezer’s history and abilities seem to be taken for granted as previously known by the reader. As a result I was left feeling more empathy for the hapless Gentile villagers, confused and intimidated by the sudden whirlwind of religious tradition. The story is redeemed by its ending, however, and the appearance of the prophet to correct Eliezer’s errant attitude breathes some much needed clarity into the story, albeit a little belatedly.