Showing posts with label ScienceFiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ScienceFiction. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 14, 2025

Barry B. Longyear's "Infinity Hold"

 I recently read Barry Longyear's Infinity Hold series and really enjoyed it. Longyear's earlier Circus World series is one of my favorites, and I've read it more than once. Both series contemplate what kind of society will develop when a narrow slice of humanity is marooned on a distant habitable planet and left to develop their own solutions.

In the Circus World series, a traveling circus troupe crash lands on a deserted planet, and their descendants maintain some traditions based on circus culture. What I remember of the story is that all social interactions are based explicitly on reciprocal trade. If you are wandering alone along a remote path, and happen upon a bunch of people preparing a meal, you might tell a story or perform a magic show in exchange for partaking of what they have.

The Infinity Hold series starts in a very different place. The newly marooned are convicts and ex-prisoners, abandoned on a remote planet, in analogy to the way Australia was populated in the 19th century by the British. But this has apparently been going on for some time, and at this point, existing gangs have staked out territory and prey on newcomers. The story follows a particular band that grows and develops from a group that realizes that they'll have to stick together to have any chance of surviving the environment and not being killed or enslaved by their predecessors. 

The story is, rather explicitly in my view, an exploration of what I call (based on Rand) "lifeboat ethics":  How should our rules of behavior change when we're in an emergency situation? In this case, the new refugees have limited resources, a ticking clock to get to a better place, and enemies all around them. Additionally, everyone knows that their neighbors are killers, addicts, thieves, rapists, and various other miscreants, but if they don't cooperate, they'll probably all die.

Once the newcomers are dropped on the new planet (Tartaros), several gangs form, some fighting takes place, but it grows dark before things get very bad. The main character, Bando Nicos, is part of a small bunch that coalesces with a few larger gangs, and puts off discussions of organizing till they survive the night, and the first attack. They manage to ambush an overconfident mob of experienced folk, which seeds a core large enough to be stable.

Their victory leaves them with some prisoners, some of whom share some details about the enormous desert they are stranded in, and which directions lead to certain death versus the possibility of fighting another gang for the chance to survive. Some people don't believe the hints and break off from the group to head for what looks like a green destination, but which the prisoners have said is a mirage.

Once they're ready to move, the first political choice comes to the fore. Some of the gang members have been detailed to guard the prisoners, but having a shared history behind bars, they object to the idea of keeping prisoners. There's a vote of all the remaining members of the gang, and it's agreed by a wide margin that they will not hold prisoners. The prisoners are given a choice of joining the gang, walking into the desert without supplies, or being killed. This isn't much of a choice, and everyone joins.

After a couple of days of walking, Nicos realizes that they're going to have to become a fighting force if they're going to survive the roving bands, and eventually make it across the sand to where the stationary gangs hold and defend territory. He identifies Bloody Sarah as the best person to train them, and since her military exploits are well known, it's an easy sell. When he proposes before the next day's march that they get organized, there is general squabbling and dissension, which is settled by a proposal that they have an election. Since the gang is about 80% female, Nance Damas (the only woman whose name is put forward) wins. Darrell Garoit is a lawyer who also ran for the job. Nancy's acceptance speech is short and sweet:

"Sarah Hovit is in charge of the army, so she is in charge of you. You elected me, so you are in charge of me. I am in charge of Sarah. I have appointed Darrell Garoit my number two, and when I'm not around he's in charge.

"We have a fight coming up, and we have to work like hell to prepare for it. You now belong to Sarah Hovit. Anyone who has a problem with  that can leave now. We aren't going to hold anyone prisoner."

 Immediately after the vote they start walking again, and practically right away there's a fight. Nance shows her ability to delegate by telling Nicos to find out what happened and "settle it". Nicos appoints Martin Stays his deputy, and goes to where the fracas took place. After sending the rest of the column away, Nicos asks the two who were fighting what happened. The fight is based on a long-running feud, which Nicos settles by saying that nothing before the landing counts as a cause of action. "It's done past." One of them complains that he was cut by the other in this fight, and argues for retribution. Nicos finds out that he was the one who took a run at the other guy, and says

"You went for him with your fists and got cut. You asked for it. Don't go for him again and you won't get cut again. Now bandage up, shut up, and put it to rest. If it happened before the landing, it's done past, dead. If you can't put it to rest, I'll put it to rest for you."

When the leadership group is talking later, it turns out that Stays has been recording the rules and decisions that have come into existence.

1. Each person is responsible for his own sustenance. This also means that stealing is a crime.

2. Each person is free to follow whatever leader he or she wants.

3. Policies can be changed by the leader and by majority vote.

4. Policies changed or affirmed by majority vote become laws, and are changeable only by majority vote.  (See law #1)

5. The leader of the gang is elected by plurality vote.

6. The leader has the power to appoint subordinates.

7. Each appointed officer has the power to appoint subordinates.

8. The "No prisoners" law includes not forcing anyone to serve in the army.

9. Not serving in the army is grounds for expulsion from the Razai. (The gang has a name now.)

10. Fighting to the death is allowed as long as the fight is confined to the combatants.

11 Any crimes or issues that originated before the landing are done past. Any kind of retribution based on such crimes is a new crime.

Laws:

1. No Prisoners.

There's then a short argument among the Razai as to whether there's a good theoretical basis for this set of rules. Stays defends it as expedient, and argues that theory isn't a helpful basis for what they're doing.

They've happened on the basis for the common law. Judges make decisions. If they work, they survive, and are enforced by other judges. If they don't work, the people can choose a different approach.

The other thing that's starting to become apparent is that these rules are focused on keeping the group moving forward. They don't have time, as Bando will explain later, to follow all the legal niceties that one would want to have in place for a stable society where people might want a thorough investigation or careful consideration of comparative faults. They have to keep marching, they have to find food, they have to become a fighting force, or they'll all be dead or someone else's slaves.

A short while later, Bando and Stays get called to the back of the column where they need to resolve a crisis. Dick Irish, who was Bando's closest companion on the flight to Tartaros, has killed Freddy. Freddy had broken Dick's arm in a fight on the ship. Since Freddy was Black, Bando recruits Marrietta as a new deputy to ease tensions a tad.

The crowd is restive and the sides are divided by race, a habit from the prisons they've all come from. Marrietta is taking care of crowd control, trying to calm everyone down, so Bando can find out what happened and restore peace. She starts by telling the onlookers to skedaddle, but they insist they have a right to observe. (rule 12) She acquiesces, but creates a new rule (13):

  "You all can stay and watch, but ... no threats. If you threaten something, what you say is exactly what you goin' get. If you threaten to kill [Bando], you'll be dead before the echo gets back to you."

Banda starts the proceedings by asking Dick what happened. Dick says "Bando, I told you I was going to thin [kill] Freddy once we got out of the ship."

Bando asks Dick whether he'll accept Bando's judgement (rule 14):

"Will you stand by what I decide in this, or do you want us to put up [a judge]?"

"I know you'll do what's right by me."

"Dick, you thinned Freddy, right?"

"Right, but he broke my arm. I owed him ..."

"That was back in jail. This is Tartaros."

"So?"

"So did you hear it when we made the rule? Did you hear it when we said if it happened before the landing, it's done past? Nance was going to have it read out to [all of you]."

"Yeah, I heard it, but that don't make no difference to me. See back in [prison] he broke my arm. I don't-"

Bando summarily shoots Martin, his erstwhile friend. Then Bando explains the rules about murder (rule 15).

"It's payback, just like in the yard. If you steal, payback is you return what you took plus a little. If you can't return what you took, then you return something worth as much. If you can't or won't return the stuff, or stuff worth as much, you get thinned. You lose it all.

"Dick Irish took a life. He couldn't return what he took, so his payback was to give up the life he had."

And he repeats the admonishment about the past. "If it happened before the landing, it didn't happen. Before the landing is done past. Tartaros is a new hand. Play it that way."

Someone asks what happens to Dick's and Freddy's stuff. This is not sentimental, nor greedy, it's a matter of survival. Everyone is short of protective clothing, food, tools, and water. Bando says any surviving family gets to inherit. He asks if Freddy had any relatives. One woman, Ginger, said they had been sleeping together, and Bando rules that that's as close to marriage as anything else they have. And she gets Dick's stuff as well. (rules 16 and 17) "Dick took something from Freddy, and he can't pay it back. So he owes Freddy everything he's got. Ginger gets the lot."

A voice from the crowd asks Bando "Who appointed you judge and jury?" Bando points to the dead body and says "He did." (referring to his opening question at the trial.) Even though Bando, Martin, and Marrietta aren't the only ones in the crowd who are armed, everyone present seems to accept this as justice done.

Martin summarizes for the crowd: "We're not a gang like the others out here. We aren't together because some big gun threatened us. We're together by choice for our own mutual interests. We are a tribe, a society, a civilization."

Other stuff goes on in the story, having to do with the possibility of the survival of the Razai, but I'm focussed on the laws and law-making. The next situation Bando has to deal with involves lawyers, who are widely despised among the ex-cons, including by Bando.

A large crowd has gathered. There was a fight between Mojoa, a Black man, and Herb, a White man. Mojo says Herb tried to kill him. Bando asks Herb for an explanation. Herb has a lawyer, Jason Pendril. Jason says that in view of what happened to Dick Irish, "entering a plea with you may not be the healthiest thing we could do."

Bando says "If your client refuses to say if he did it, I'll assume he tried to kill Mojo."

"That is not how it is done in a court of law, Nicos."

"Maybe it's not how it's done [back home], Pendril, but it's how it's done here. You've been in [prison] awhile. Silence is a plea of guilty there. Silence is a plea of guilty here."

Bando correctly (IMO) judges that the Razai's interests are best served by a speedy process.  He does what's possible to incentivize a process that will punish the guilty and free the innocent, but his highest concern is to resolve it quickly, and get them back on the move.

Jason throws up his hands to show his helplessness in the face of such an idiotic ruling. "In that case, of course he enters a plea of not guilty."

Bando asks if the parties will accept his ruling. Mojo says "yes", but Pendril says Herb "chooses to have a jury of his peers decide his guilt or innocence."

On the fly, Bando makes up some rules. The accused gets to pick an odd number for the size of the jury, because "Majority rules, and we don't want any ties."

Jason, in an outraged tone, challenges the idea of deciding a capital case on a majority vote, but Bando points to rules 3, 4, and 5 and says "Majority vote is the way we do things in the Razai." This is the first Jason (or most of the Razai) have heard about the recorded rules, though the Razai will later make many copies and make sure everyone has access.

They ask the crowd for volunteers, and then Bando explains the rules for the jury.

"We are all here for the same reason. That reason is to make certain that Mojo and Herb get exactly what's coming to them. Herb is up for attempted murder. If you get to be part of this jury, your job will be to see to it that Herb gets what's coming to him."

"Remember, if you say Herb is guilty, and we find out later that he isn't guilty, then all of you in the jury who voted for guilty will suffer the fate that Herb suffered." A few of the volunteers melt back into the crowd. "And it goes the same if you vote him innocent and he turns out to be guilty. You will stand the punishment he should have stood."

This is harsh, but the black vs. white dynamic was getting heated, and Jason complained that there were few whites in the jury line. Making it clear to everyone that the jurors' incentive was for truth rather than a good outcome for "their side" was Bando's goal. Everyone takes this incentive seriously, and the rule plays a crucial role near the end of the book when Bando is himself on trial.

Bando then randomly approves jurors with a 3/4 chance, and quickly chooses 13, a number accepted by Jason after the crowd suggests it. Jason wants to question the jurors, but Bando refuses, saying "Here's a definition of justice as it works in the Razai on this desert today. Justice is everybody getting exactly what they deserve as fast as possible."

Systems of justice everywhere have to make trade-offs between expedience and process. At one point, Americans believed that it would be better for 10 guilty people to go free than for 1 innocent person to be incorrectly punished, though we no longer act that way. In Bando's view, justice for the Razai as a whole, and for accusers and the accused, is best served by making the best decision that can be made quickly. Members of the Razai need to be incentivized to keep the internal violence and strife down.

Bando asks Mojo what happened, but he doesn't allow Jason to interrupt, object, or cross-examine. Bando rejects all Jason's pleas that they respect the rules of evidence as not relevant on Tartaros. He eventually tells Herb to keep Jason from interrupting. "If he slows things down to where we have to give the trial to Mojo by default, you are the one who pays."

Bando then asks the crowd if anyone in the crowd saw what happened and wants to be a witness. The attack took place when Mojo was passing through a group of Herb's friends, so they're the only ones who stand. Bando then explains the punishment for testifying falsely, and they all sit back down.

Then Bando pulls a fast one on Jason, and declares that lawyers don't have any special powers. There is no attorney-client privilege.  "Your job here is the same as the jury's and it is the same as mine. We are all here to make sure that everybody gets exactly what's coming to them." When Jason accepts that Bands intends to enforce this, he admits that Herb told him that he did it. On that basis, the jury swiftly convicts Herb.

Mojo expects Bando to execute Herb, but Bando isn't having any of that. He killed Dick Irish because Irish's victim was dead and Bando had to act in his place. In this case, he says, Mojo gets to decide what he wants from Herb. He can banish him, take his stuff, or kill him, but he can't torture him or make him a slave. Mojo thinks for a moment, and asks Herb for an apology. Herb gives an apparently sincere apology, and the matter is over.

Bando and the Razai are the big winners here. Peace is restored, Bando's rules are accepted, and everyone sees that justice can be swift and certain, and that threats and violence will be dealt with.

The next case Bando faces (after the plot advances for a bit) is an accusation of rape. The perpetrator claims it was consensual, and that the force was part of the game. While being attacked, the victim had pleaded with several bystanders to help him, but they were all too afraid to help. In prison, that was self-preservation, but here accomplices and unhelpful bystanders are just as guilty. All the witnesses and accomplices agree that the victim was forced. 

The perp argues that the penalty should be lower than for murder because the victim keeps their life. A rape victim describes the horror and consequences for her. Bando doesn't want to decide this question, so it's put to a vote, and the vast majority of the Razai determine that the penalty for rape is death. The jury, having heard the accomplices and unhelpful bystanders describe their actions determine that rape was committed, and there's plenty of guilt to go around. The victim executes 5 people and the trial is over.

Along the way, another rule is established: if someone claims to be insane, or to have an irremediable compulsion, they're still responsible for their actions. It's pointed out that there's a support group among the Razai that meets every night, and some people say it helps them not act out their compulsions. No one argues that anyone should be required to attend, but not doing so is choosing to allow your compulsions to control you.

This is only a third of the way through the trilogy, but it's sufficient to establish the framework that I want to talk about. The story continues to be interesting, and the Razai continue to add new rules, and grow as a society. I found the story fun and interesting.

Longyear and his characters never talk about the justification for these rules. The characters explain to each other that the Razai continues to grow by adding members from other gangs because they have "the Law", which guarantees some rights and freedoms, which is clearly preferable to rule by gangsters and mobs. Of course, all the other gangs they encounter hold slaves, abuse women, discriminate on the basis of race, and allow their autocratic bosses to kill and torture arbitrarily.

The basic rules are "no killing",  "no stealing", "no rapes". They add "no innocent bystanders". The rules for investigating and determining guilt are the place where it diverges from what we're familiar with. Speed is of the essence, so the investigator runs the trial, and doesn't have to allow any testimony he finds irrelevant. There is no attorney-client privilege, so lawyers are effectively turned into agents of the court. Jurors are picked by lot from those nearby who volunteer. (There is no voire dire.) Refusing to enter a plea (including by escaping) is a plea of guilty.

The punishment for theft is returning what you took, plus a little. The punishment for murder or rape is death, because the perpetrator took something they can't return. The victim can decide the punishment, up to death.

The rules of evidence and courtroom responsibilities reflect the Napoleonic code to some extent, as I understand it. Our idea of lawyers as advocates for each side, whose duty is to argue for their side regardless of who they know is actually culpable is unique in the world. Bando decides that while they're on the march, that's just not sustainable.

The system Bando invents on the fly has good incentives for people before committing acts of aggression: punishment seems to be swift and likely. There's no benefit to claiming external factors were at fault. Bystanders are strongly encouraged to prevent or report acts of violence. We later see that heads of household have no special rights over their spouses or children, so they can press charges or leave.

Of course, in the end, the good guys win, and their system of justice takes over the known parts of the Tantaros. The story comes to a close before anyone has to think about what rules ought to apply once they're no longer in a mad dash to escape the desert and ruthless enemies. The pressure for quick determinations will go away, and the possibility for entertaining additional evidence will rise. Once people settle down and start building productive lives, it'll be harder to draft a jury pool.

I would expect that like the original transported western settlers of Australia, they would find out that nearly everyone was willing to live peaceful and productive lives once taken out of their old context. They might continue to use the framework that got them across the desert, or they might invent something new.  Something based on Bando's rules would certainly lead to more peace and sociality than the criminal gangs they had to defeat.

Tuesday, July 14, 2020

Lifelode by Jo Walton

I really enjoyed Jo Walton's Lifelode for its ethereal feel. This is uncommon fantasy, with a real ear for how the storyteller's language sets the mood.

The story takes place in a rural setting with a medium level of magic, in a geography where the strength of magic and the speed of time's flow vary according to how far east or west you go. Like Vinge's Zones of Thought, there are regions with powerful magic and powerful gods, and regions where magic is absent and even ordinary thinking is slowed down. The village of Applekirk is a feudal setting, though there's more of a sense of the lords taking care of and protecting their subjects than of taking advantage of them.

Ferrand is the lord of the manor, and a gentle, just and foresighted leader. His polygamous household consists of his wife Chayra, his sweetmate Tavethe and her husband Ranal. Each has a 'lifelode', or calling that fills their days, and some have a gift with 'yeya' or magical mana. Tavethe's lifelode is keeping the house running smoothly, and she also sees shadows of the future and past selves of those around her. The household is busy with three children of different ages and temperments, each eager to grow up and find their own lifelode.

Into this mix comes Jankin, an academic from the west, with no particular magic of his own, but a driving curiosity about the history of a civilization that passed through this area centuries earlier, and Hanethe, Ferrand's great grandmother and a previous, reluctant, lord of the manor. Hanethe has been in the east having mysterious adventures for 15 years or so, while 60 years have passed in Applekirk. Hanethe is being chased by agents of a vengeful god she has wronged, but I'm more interested in talking about the setting than the main conflict, so you wan't get any interesting spoilers here.

Walton does a great job of fitting her prose to the scene, or whose story she's telling. When she talks about Tavethe, future, past and present are swirled together in an eternal now. When Walton is giving background on Applekirk, she also mixes past and future recklessly, in a way that makes the place seem unchanging, even as people are remembering or experiencing momentous events. And as Tavethe says occasionally, "The house remembers," and since the doors spontaneously announce the arrival of visitors or invaders and open politely for people with yeya and a strong connection to the place, it's easy to believe.

It's common for young people in Applekirk (and presumably other villages in the vicinity) to spend a year or two seeing what life is like a litttle ways east (for people with a touch of yeya) or west (for those with a more worldly bent), but they often return home and live out their lives where they started.

When Jankin is the subject, any little object or incident can suddenly shine with a special intensity as he focuses his attention, and learns something new about the history of the place, or how yeya works, or how people develop and exercise their skills (mundane or magical).

Melly, Taveth's daughter has a strong affinity for yeya, and becomes an apprentice to Hanethe for a short while.

When harvest time arrives, everyone bends to with a will, knowing their part already, except Jankin and Hanethe. Jankin has never lived on a farm, and has no relevant skills. Hanethe is no longer young and no one is willing to assign duties to her. But by this point, she is under threat and needs the villagers' support, so she does odd jobs that keep her visible like carrying water and refeshments to the workers. Jankin joins the reapers and learns about dirty and sweaty work.

The children are also drawn in great detail. Hodge is 6 and the natural son of Ferrand and Chayra, so he is the heir and everyone can tell that his lifelode when he grows up will be taking his place as Ferrand's successor. He is very earnest, and pays careful attention to the way that Ferrand leads. Still, he is easily distracted. Melly is 8, but less mature, except when her yeya comes into play. She hasn't yet learned to control it, except for small feats like bringing more from kitchen to dining room than will fit in her hands. She is excited to learn more, and fastens on to Hanethe, whose power is obvious, and who has been in the east.

This is a very satisfying story, with great mood, well-drawn characters, and interesting conflict. Even if the outcome is telegraphed, the twists and turns are surprising.

Tuesday, December 10, 2019

Two by C. J. Cherryh

I was recently reading Alliance Rising by C. J. Cherryh and Jane S. Fancher and Defender by C. J. Cherryh at the same time. (It's not unusual for me to be reading 4 or 5 books at the same time. Some I have as hard copies by the bed, some on my tablet, and others on my phone.) I've liked most of the Cherryh that I've read, so I was a little surprised at my reaction to these two.

Defender is book 5 in a 20 book series, and I enjoyed it a lot. I'm familiar with the characters, and there's a lot of action, and many factions jockeying for control. It doesn't have much of a pro-liberty message -- I don't insist on that in everything I read.

Defender focuses more on a struggle to keep the peace, and a society where some of the characters have very alien motivations. This is one of the things that I like about this series--Cherryh has a really great ability to depict people who don't think as we do.

My response to Alliance Rising, was quite different. If it hadn't been nominated for this year's Prometheus award (I'm on the review committee) I might even have set it aside. After getting through about a third of the book, I felt like the only actual action that had taken place was that an unexpected ship had arrived at the space station where the story takes place. The rest was all talk. There had been meetings and trysts and discussions and a lot of description of historical and political background by the authors. By the end there was a little more action, but the focus was really on politics and lobbying.

But I have to admit that Alliance Rising is a plausible candidate for the award. The politics and hobnobbing are all in service of the independent trading ships banding together in the face of Earth's apparent intent to take over the interstellar shipping business. There are safety concerns because the people acting for Earth's government are more concerned with controlling commerce than operating a business, while the traders have family ties with the stations, and have an interest in making sure that trade continues even where it's uneconomical at times. I'm not sure that it's a principaled pro-freedom message, but it's at least plausible. I still prefer to read SF stories where the plot is advanced by stuff happening, rather than by people talking. I'll have to wait to see how this book stacks up against the other contenders for this year's Prometheus.

Monday, February 12, 2018

Walkaway by Cory Doctorow

I really enjoyed reading Cory Doctorow's Walkaway, though it was more the setting than the story that had me entranced.

Doctorow envisions a relatively high tech future with a strong upper class with strict controls on many aspects of society, but there's an informal, unsupported safety valve that makes it possible for people to get out from under the plutocrats (called Zottas here). Doctorow's society is fraying around the edges, so there are lots of abandoned industrial facilities and vacant land that people who are fed up can Walkaway to. Once there they create informal voluntary societies, and exploit the abandoned wealth they find around them. As with Doctorow's Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom this is a reputation based society, but many of the people who fuel this iteration explicitly reject the ideas of ratings and rankings and tracking contributions. People work together for the joy of it, and record their ideas and plans so others can replicate what works and improve on what doesn't.

In a focal early scene, Limpopo and her companions have been working for months to build a habitation called the Belt and Braces in the wilderness. Limpopo leads by doing a lot of the work, and she has argued convincingly that using leaderboards and rewarding people based on their contributions are ineffective ways to encourage desirable behaviors because they incentivize the wrong kinds of effort. Jimmy had lost an earlier round of this argument and been asked to leave. He returns with a crowd of allies one day when Limpopo is working outside, and his crowd uses the lack of formal rules to rewrite the software controls and impose a reward structure. A common response to this kind of disagreement would be to wage a "revert" battle in the software, but Limpopo uses this opportunity to demonstrate the depth of her commitment to the "Walkaway" philosophy by announcing that she's not going to fight over it. Instead, she'll go somewhere else and start over, leaving Jimmy with full possession of an empty shell. When pressed, she declares "I didn't make it. It wasn't mine. I didn't let him take it." The Walkaway philosophy is to not have belongings, so as not be attached to your stuff. It's impossible to steal from them because they don't acknowledge ownership.

For me, the model that strikes home is the ability to withdraw from an existing government and decamp to a new location to just start over. The current international order doesn't seem to leave any gaps for things like this, but I'm currently in the middle of reading James C. Scott's The Art of Not Being Governed, which presents a history of South East Asia that says that the shape of the societies in that part of the world has been driven for millennia largely by the people who moved to less accessible locations in order to escape governments that were getting unbearable. Scott argues that the sociology of the closely related peoples living in hills and valleys were driven more by which crops and living arrangements were easy for governments to count and tax in the valleys, and hard for them to find and more durable in the remote and higher settlements. I hope to write more about that when I've finished Scott's book.

Doctorow doesn't try to argue that it's easy, and in fact shows that the walkaway crowd is doing an immense amount of work in order to rebuild. I find this model of decentralized self government very sympathetic. There's no acknowledged government with territorial exclusivity, and people are able to leave if they don't like the way things are being run. There is plenty of open room to move to, and there's enough generalized wealth at hand and accessible know how that people don't feel tied down.

The unfortunate part of Walkaway is that Doctorow needed a conflict, and the one he sets up is that the Zottas are jealous of their control over society, and see the walkaways as a threat, so they're willing to kidnap, torture and send in the troops in order to regain control. In the final battle scene, a Zotta leader's daughter is in the target area, and the Zotta's back down. But in the meantime, the walkaway society's story is one of resisting violence from outside rather than the peaceful coexistence they're working so hard to get.

I agree with Doctorow's aesthetic sense; focusing on this society after the Zottas have ceded control wouldn't provide conflict at the same existential level, but it would be a much nicer place to live, both for those who walk away and those who remain behind in the "default" economy.

Doctorow knows how to tell a story: There are a lot of funny and touching scenes in the story, and he covers a lot of ground. In addition to the overall situation which I've focused on so far, the story covers many kinds of relationships, uploading makes a major sub-plot, and the unequal distribution of society's benefits is explored. He does have a darker outlook than I on where technology is heading. The reason there are riches lying around is that the Zottas would rather shutter outmoded plants than sell them and allow someone else to exploit the resources they contain. There are many highly trained mercenaries around that the Zottas can hire who will do their bidding, no matter how distasteful it might seem to us. But that's visible in many of his other stories, and he still manages to be entertaining and paint a hopeful picture about how people can get along together and build something great. This book is being considered for this year's Prometheus, and it's my current favorite.

Thursday, July 06, 2017

Redemption Ark, by Alastair Reynolds

Alistair Reynolds's Redemption Ark is a great yarn, with action spaning a long time scale and many star systems. It takes quite a while to figure out that the Inhibitors have the same goals as Saberhagen's Berserkers—they want to eradicate intelligent life (though there's some hint that they're doing it to stave off a more thorough cleansing by unknown agencies). Unlike the Berserkers, these killers wait quietly while monitoring commerce between the stars so that when they strike, they'll be able to wipe out all traces of the civilizations they notice. And they don't attack with space ships and robotic warriors; they build megastructures to destroy entire star systems. The humans who figure out their objectives have to make even longer range plans in order to counter them.

And the main characters here are willing and able to think that far ahead, and set up long term goals. A few of them have the longevity to pursue this kind of plan, and still interact with shorter-lived people on a human level. The factions include a borg-like collective, though they seem to follow plausible physics, and members don't participate in the group mind when they're not on the same planet. They do have faster than light travel, though there are reasons it's rarely used. They still have a civilization that spans multiple star systems, so they have the ability to hibernate while on long journeys. Given time dilation at near light and other effects, they're used to (at a societal level) dealing with people who remember the distand past at first hand, and have institutions that allow people to carry out long term plans when the principals might be away for extended periods.

One of the things that has cut down the prevalence of interstellar travel is the presence of plague, a nano-scale infection that they seem unable to stop except by physical isolation. The story starts with the return of the ship captained by a revered long-lost ancestor which seems to have been infected or attacked by a new kind of agent. After this, we follow a couple of different story lines among the borg, on a colony world in political turmoil, and following a local transport rocket pilot around a densely inhabited system. Characters and events influence one another in various ways across the different story lines.

We gradually learn that an inner cabal within the closed leadership group inside a faction of the borg knows about some super weapons created in the distant past that might be useful in fighting the Inhibitors. The Inhibitors have recently become more active, and a few factions figure out that someone needs to act. The struggle to find and control the super weapons drives much of the conflict in one story line. Other groups pursue other schemes in the converging story lines, to keep things dramatic and interesting.

Anyway, the struggles between long-lived and widely traveling post humans and ordinary people living out their lives on planets in distant solar systems are fascinating to watch, and quite plausible. The further they are from an ordinary lifespan, the more alien their motivations and goals, but most of them seem to be trying to work towards a greater good as they understand it. Even the few with truly alien viewpoints know how to work with others to achieve mutual goals.

I've read a few of Reynolds ' books at this point, and I enjoy the broad scope, the immense vision, and the finely detailed characters. The stories are suspenseful, and even when they leave a hook for a follow-up story, the endings are satisfying.

Sunday, May 21, 2017

Insurgence, by Ken MacLeod

Ken MacLeod's The Corporation Wars: Insurgence, is the second book of a trilogy. It (along with the first book in the series, Dissidence, is a finalist for the Prometheus award this year.

Insurgence continues the story of awakened robots struggling for freedom, and uploaded human ex-combatants fighting to retake the planetary system the robots had been mining and exploring.

This installment focuses less on the robots' claim to be agents worthy of separate respect, and more on the uploaded warriors struggle to figure out the nature of the reality they inhabit while mostly following orders to fight the battles their supervisors are pursuing. Their ultimate worry is that they don't have enough information to tell which side they're fighting on or who they are battling to subdue. When you live in a simulation (particularly when you can tell that someone else has access to the control panel) it's a little difficult to be sure that your choices aren't effectively controlled by someone else.

Next, cracks appear in the simulation, and "real" revived people see the shortcomings, but non-player-characters (MacLeod calls them philosophical zombies) think everything is normal, so the real people can tell who's just a simulated person. The idea of zombies in philosophy (sometimes "p-zombies") is an exploration of the idea of consciousness. What if there were beings that acted just like people, but had no consciousness? Would it make a difference to them? Should we accord them lesser rights?

I consider the idea of p-zombies to be incoherent, but many smart people treat the question as exploring an important distinction. MacLeod here undercuts the point of the argument since there are actual behavioral differences. It isn't an exploration of whether consciousness matters, it's just that some characters in the story are imperfect simulations without an inner life, and the actual thinking beings can tell who they are. At the same time, MacLeod makes sure we notice that the robots and AIs who are active in the battles and the scheming do have an inner dialogue, and are making plans and collaborating with others to get things done.

The starting position for the agencies that represent the current Earth government and act under its protection is that only humans are allowed to be sentient. Even AIs' powers are circumscribed. Whenever self awareness arises otherwise, it must be stamped out. It's not clear why this would be a plausible stance, since it's clearly the case that the AIs can become self-aware for short periods, and autonomously operating robots have the capacity for spontaneous self awareness given the right trigger. So they must be constantly battling to defeat uprisings, and track down newly minted sophonts who either try to escape from control, or hide in occupied systems. It would make more sense to forbid use of tools with the capacity for self awareness, than to constantly try to stomp them out. I'd also have a hard time going along with a regime that wanted to outlaw and destroy a class of beings because they were self aware. Self aware and hostile is a separate thing, but that's not the distinction they've settled on.

Before one of the final battles, one of the leaders of the simulated humans challenges the combatants to each eat a slice of p-zombie flesh to prove that they believe they're in a simulation, and that there can't be any moral issues with simulated eating of simulated meat from simulated people that were never actually alive or aware. Except for a few who object to the initiation-ceremony aspect of the act, they all partake.

So there's a lot of exploration here of of philosophical questions of identity, and what it means to be human. The questions of liberty are mostly focussed on what kinds of agents deserve respect as actual people, though I think MacLeod fumbled some of the issues. The action is interesting and the conflict exciting. Besides there are also weaponized communications packets, interrogations of potentially hostile agents by sending them into a dungeon simulation, double and triple agents, and terraforming. It's a pretty good read, and the lead-in to part three, of course leaves a few things to be resolved.

Saturday, April 15, 2017

Dissidence, by Ken MacLeod

Ken MacLeod's The Corporation Wars: Dissidence, is the first book of trilogy. It (along with the second book in the series, Insurgence) is a finalist for the Prometheus award this year.

The story starts with a scene in which a pair of mining robots exploring an asteroid (in a distant solar system) and representing different corporate interests have an encounter, which leads them to realize they have opposing interests, which leads them each to recognize that they have interests, which leads them to self-awareness. The corporations are in a tenuous situation, trying to assert their ownership of the robots, trying to be civil about their contractual cooperation, but objecting strenuously to breaches by the opposing robots. The corporations end up fighting one another, and the robots band together and spread the concept of self-awareness to other nearby robots with sufficient computing capacity. Since the corporations don't seem likely to grant them independence, the robots form an independent faction in the upcoming battle. The corporations are loath to destroy their valuable property just yet.

When they do decide that military actions are called for, they end up dredging up opposing troops of uploaded warriors from past wars. All the AIs and non-self-aware robots, and other actors are under a deep compulsion that only humans and their uploads can actually be armed for combat, even against rogue self-aware robots. So the "humans" spent parts of their time embodied as people in a planetary environment, training and relaxing between missions. In the missions, they're downloaded into articulated space battle suits. Every time they die in battle, they return to the training site to start again. Over time, they find reason to doubt the reality of their home, and eventually detect serious cracks.

The uploads gradually learn enough about their realities to doubt that they're still fighting for the side they were loyal to in their first lives. Apparently part of the distinction between uploads and awakened AIs is that the operators can't tinker with opinions and loyalties directly, but they can easily lie and mislead about who they're representing, and what their opponents are fighting for. Of course, it wouldn't be an interesting story if the operator's control couldn't be subverted.

Ken MacLeod tells a good story, and gets us to think about what kinds of entities should have rights. The authorial point of view allows him to show the action in the eyes alternately of the awakened robots and the revived soldiers, so we feel their fundamental humanness. The characters, ex-human and non-human alike, think about who they should allow into their coalition, whether other actors are actually aware or just act like it, and have varying motives.

My biggest complaint about the story and the characters' attitudes is a simple acceptance among all the characters that some other characters are not real, based simply on statements from people in authority roles. In war, it doesn't make much sense to worry about whether the people shooting at you are actually thinking beings, but deciding that some category of bystanders don't have inner lives should be a cause for more intensive investigation. It's an easy allegation to make, and not far from standard attitudes about our enemies that we've mostly moved past.

Saturday, April 08, 2017

Johanna Sinisalo's The Core of the Sun is a finalist for the Prometheus award this year.

It has enough SF elements to qualify as standard near future fiction, and provides biting social commentary. In feel, it reminds me a lot of Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale, but I liked this better in several ways.

The story takes place in a future Finland that has managed to selectively breed its women so that they're either docile sex dolls and mothers ("eloi"), or sterile, powerless but competent workers ("morlocks"). They've also outlawed psycho-active drugs from alcohol to heroin, and somehow included capsacin (hot peppers) on that list. The protagonist (Vanna) is a morlock who was raised as an eloi, which allows her to pass in polite company. She's also hooked on hot peppers, and has started dealing in whole, dried, and preserved peppers in order to afford her next fix.

Compared to Handmaid's Tale, the viewpoint character is a more active agent, with more freedom to act for her own interests and to undermine the system; her allies against the state are more fully bought into the fight; the state she fights has taken more reprehensible steps, though it seems to have less thorough control of its subjugated females.

The story is told with a mix of present-tense action, and recollections by Vanna of how she got to her present situation, mostly written as letters to her long-lost eloi sister, Manna. The two were raised away from the city by their eccentric aunt, which gave Vanna the opportunity to act naturally most of the time, and mimic her sister when visitors were around. This gave her the tools to pass as eloi when she grew up.

After the aunt dies, Manna finds a husband who Vanna suspects to be after the family farm, since neither Manna nor Vanna (passing as an eloi) can legally hold title to it. Vanna finds a man to partner with who values her for her unusual intellect and her ability to act independently (a useful tool for his black market activities).

Vanna pursues the secrets behind her sister's disappearance until events force her to escape with her partner. I found the prose (and occasional poetry) to be delightful and very evocative. The characters were convincing, and Vanna's struggle to be her own person in the face of societal expectations was heart breaking.

Sunday, September 04, 2016

Seveneves, by Neal Stephenson

Neal Stephenson's Seveneves is a fun read — it won this year's Prometheus Award against a strong field of authors including previous winners and SF greats. That's most of what I can say without spoilers. Alright, also this: the story starts with an unidentified object causing the breakup of the Moon into seven large chunks. Scientists and astronomers quickly run their simulations and analyses and agree that it'll be about two years of bumping against one another and breaking into finer and finer pieces before it all ends in a "White Sky" where fragments blanket the sky and soon start falling in the "Hard Rain" which will kill basically all macroscopic life on the surface. The initial breakup of the moon and the subsequent analysis happens in the opening pages, so this doesn't feel like a spoiler to me. If you're likely to read the book (it's Neal Stephenson, and it won the Prometheus Award), and don't like spoilers, I recommend reading just to the end of this paragraph. I enjoyed the book, and it qualifies as a Prometheus winner because nearly everything that happens does so without the presence of anything like a government. There are many failures of coordination but also a lot of successes. The ending is hopeful.

The first part of the book is about what happens over those approximately two years as everyone pulls together. The next part is what happens next to those who survive in space, and the final section is about what happens much later to the descendents of those who survived. In the first part, there's a lot of cooperation even though everyone agrees that the vast majority are going to die very soon. An astonishing number of people and institutions pull together to do what can be done to save a representative sample of humanity, and ensure they have enough supplies and tools to stand a decent chance of surviving. There is a little bit of cowboy heroics, but for the most part, people are putting the species before themselves. Stephenson does a good job of depicting the impact of politics and struggles between factions, while also showing the technology that could make it all work, and the interesting personal dynamics that go into creating a new society from scratch in an inhospitable environment.

The main conflict in the second part is set up because the President of the US violates the broad agreement that politicians wouldn't be allowed on the rescue fleet. At the very last minute before it becomes impossible, she gets on the last rocket to take off and joins those expected to survive. She is not welcomed by the leaders of the expedition, but being a consummate politician, she recruits followers from the least powerful, and ends up splitting the escape fleet into two that are both too small to carry out the planned mission. The survivors face the challenge of moving from a low orbit under constant threat from the remaining chunks (which are predicted to eventually coalesce into a ring) to someplace higher and safer. Disastrous events ensue, and a tiny remnant group manages to find refuge in one of the remaining large chunks of the Moon, a nickel-iron lump with a crevice big enough to shelter them while they recover, repair, and deploy their remaining technology to sustainably feed themselves and begin the process of procreation so there can be a next chapter. Most of the action is interpersonal, with politics and factional struggles driving the plot. Stephenson keeps this section short, and skips fairly quickly to a time a few thousand years in the future.

The ring has stabilized and civilization has spread around it and developed in some interesting directions. This is where the projections of plausible technologies get extra interesting. What kinds of technologies would develop in a society with an abundance of hard metals and no gravity? Where the challenge isn't getting into space, but getting around in the vast emptiness? The society takes advantage of their location (it's easier to build a sky-hook from the middle than from the ground) and finds ways to thrive.

Stephenson's expectation that starting from a very small base the population would fracture into competing polities and separate societies seems thin to me, but he uses it to drive the plot in interesting directions. At the end the residents of the ring start making attempts to explore the newly habitable surface of Earth and encounter descendents of two groups of people who found ways to survive the "Hard Rain" on the surface. One of them seems somewhat plausible, and was reasonably foreseeable from the first part of the story. The other group seemed like a real stretch to me, and the mechanism of their survival is just hinted at. But that's a small part of the story.

Stephenson tells a fascinating story about the struggle to survive and the collaboration it takes to succeed in an extreme situation. Along the way, we meet some interesting characters, and read about some new technologies that it would be great fun to play with.

Thursday, July 14, 2016

Jo Walton's The Just City investigates the nature of justice, while telling an enchanting story involving gods, mortals and robots trying to actually build the Just City hypothesized by Plato. The goddess Pallas Athene brings together 10,000 children and a few hundred adults from many different times and places to found a new city (on the island of Atlantis) according to Plato's prescriptions in The Republic. Plato's main goal in The Republic was to explain the nature of Justice (the words 'Just' and 'Justice' occur more than 150 times on the wikipedia page), so Walton has plenty of room to explore the idea from several different directions.

In order to get infrastructure in place without burdening the new inhabitants (who are supposed to be coddled and trained so they can understand Justice) the goddess brings in robots to build housing and meeting rooms. The robots are kept around to take care of maintenance and other tasks that Plato didn't describe the city's inhabitants as handling. When the historical Socrates (as envisioned by Walton) joins the city, he turns out to be a very inquisitive man. Since the robots display some autonomy, Socrates wonders whether they have individual personalities and whether they're thinking and aware. This leads to even more opportunities for questions about Justice.

Pallas Athene wants to populate the city with willing participants, so the children (exactly half girls and half boys) all are from disadvantaged circumstances. The adults are all people who prayed for a chance to live in Plato's Republic, so (considering how often the book is actually read in the original greek, and in what historical periods) most are men from antiquity, and the women are nearly all from more modern times. This leads to some interesting political factions, and changing of practices as time goes on and the oldest denizens die off first.

Not all of the children are happy to be there, even though all of them agree that their previous lives (most were slaves) were worse. Even so, not having been given a choice rankles with a few, and their reactions are also interesting.

Many of Plato's ideas are reasonably modern, but others are very outdated, like assigning citizens to societal roles according to their metal. The adults of The Just City spend a lot of effort training and testing the children in order to place them appropriately. Many of the adults are uncomfortable with this duty, but they carry it out, and even put their thumbs on the scales as necessary in order to make the numbers come out right according to Plato's very Greek ideas about numerical harmony. When some of the children figure out that test rankings are being adjusted in order to fit pre-defined notions of how many should be in each category, they challenge the adults, and as with everything else that goes on in the city, philosophical discussion and socratic dialogue ensues.

Since there's limited space on the island, procreation must be limited and sexual activity controlled. The children (and adults) find creative ways around the restrictions, but this means discussion of sexual mores and prohibitions are necessary. We hear about everything from rape and unwanted intimacy to Plato's ignorance of issues of women's hygiene. For the most part the adults attempt to do everything according to Plato's prescriptions, but there are several clear gaps in Plato's planning which leads to the need for endless committee meetings (most of which we, mercifully, hear about afterward, rather than having to endure.)

Walton does a wonderful job of presenting these philosophical questions of freedom, choice, and justice through the character's activity and interactions. In the end, we get to know these people who are all striving to be their best, and to create an environment in which justice is available to all, even though humans always have incompatible desires. We even get some satisfying answers to new and old questions and some unresolved issues to ponder on our own.

Monday, August 24, 2015

Eifelheim, by Michael Flynn



Michael Flynn's Eifelheim is a nice twist on a first-contact story. The contact takes place when insectoid aliens traveling through string theory's seventh folded dimension get stranded on Earth in 1300s medieval Germany. They are a relatively small party, but they have just the right physical form to trigger everyone's prejudices about devils. Flynn does a great job of depicting a highly religious society with a few educated (for the time) leaders.
Unfortunately for the Germans trying to figure out whether to welcome or vilify their visitors, the plague is sweeping through Europe, and it's going to kill most of them. The scenes with the survivors taking care of their loved ones are touching and gruesome. Meanwhile, the aliens are wasting away because earth's biota is missing an essential protein for them. "They eat their fill, but are not nourished".
In a parallel stream, a pair of scientist (living together, but drifting apart) are searching for answers that intersect this distant past. Sharon is trying to piece together a grand-unified theory to explain anomalous measurements, and being inspired by random phrases uttered by Tom. Tom is a sociologist tring to figure out why Eifelheim, an obscure German hill town, was never resettled after the plagues. Of course there are enough clues in obscure historical records to inspire a theory.
Of course many of the villagers are simple superstitious peasants, but Dietrich, their Pastor was educated in Paris and Vienna, and has a more open mind. Dietrich struggles to convince the villagers and the manorial lord that the visitors are "men" by the meaning of the Bible, rather than devils, and then works to convert the visitors to his faith. He has some small successes; apparently the aliens don't recognize superstition when they see it. The linguistic difficulties are enough that it's not always clear when he is speaking literally or metaphorically. Similar issues impede his understanding of the science they understand--both biology to explain the diseases afflicting both parties and astronomy.
The characters are compelling, the science is a plausible stretch, the historicism is infecting, and their travails are affecting. Dietrich treats visiting Jews (escaping from pogroms and rabble afraid that they may have brought the plague, intentionally or not) the same as he does the visitors; all are "men" in God's sight are worthy of respect and an attempt to convince them to act as their best instincts direct them. The final scene, in modern times, left tears in my eyes.




Wednesday, November 20, 2013

The Hydrogen Sonata: Iain M. Banks

Iain Banks's final Culture Novel The Hydrogen Sonata goes into greater depth than we've seen before on the process and consequences of a culture's subliming, in which they disappear from reality, and are presumed to gain access to some higher reality. It's a process that requires that an entire society make the decision collectively, and then nearly all of them must carry through roughly simultaneously, or it doesn't work somehow. The process is treated as some kind of graduation for civilizations, and its rhetorical role in the universe of the Culture is to make room for a constant influx of new civilizations arising anew. It's not absolutely required, and many societies have been around since the oldest known sublimations without making the choice.

The Hydrogen Sonata of the title is a composition designed to be played by someone with 4 arms on an eleven-stringed instrument. It's extremely difficult to play, and the focal character Vyr Cossont has been attempting to play it correctly all the way through as her life's project. The point, of course, is that she (and her civilization) is wealthy enough to be able to afford to work on completely frivolous projects like this.

The Gzilt, of which Cossont is a member, has voted to sublime, so Cossont has a limited time to finish her project. While she works on it, she gets embroiled in some shenanigans swirling around the circumstances of the sublimation. When a society decides to sublime, it's customary for others to clear the air if they had any unresolved grievances or issues. The Gzilt's progenitors, the Zihdren had a big secret, but they sublimed quite a while ago. Some Zihdren who missed the event would like to spill the beans, but other parties would prefer the secret remain hidden.

Cossont is reactivated by her old regiment who have heard what the Zihdren plan to say and want to know if it's true. The secret would undercut some of the Gzilt's most cherished beliefs about their civilization's rise. There's not a lot more I can say without giving away the plot. I enjoyed the adventure, and thought that Banks' adventure around the galaxy was quite entertaining. There are interesting chases, fights between highly armed AIs, bizarre characters, awe-inspiring architectural feats, and plenty more.

Sunday, August 18, 2013

The Scar: China Miéville

China Miéville's The Scar is as dark as Perdido Street Station, which I reviewed previously. The Scar takes place mostly on Armada, a mobile floating pirate "city" of hundreds of lashed-together seafaring vessels. The main viewpoint character is Bellis Coldwine, a linguist who fled her home in New Cobruzon because the authorities seemed to be following her and becomes intimately involved in the future of Armada, all the while scheming to find a way back to her homeland.

This is dark fantasy, with Miéville's colorful prose showing us many shadowy corners of the world. Bellis plans to pay her way to temporary exile by selling her skills as a translator to a sea captain heading to what she hopes will be a short-term destination, but the ship is attacked by pirates, where she is joined by several remade prisoners. Tanner Sack is one such; as punishment for his crimes, he has had tentacles grafted on to his body. After reaching Armada, he adapts to the seafaring life by paying to be magically and surgically transformed into an even more amphibious form, which makes him quite useful in the mobile floating city.

Armada's past peregrinations were mostly random, going to where there were juicy targets for its piratical deprivations. When people are captured, unless they're expected to be a danger to the city, they're welcomed as new citizens, who can find lodging in any of the variously governed ridings that will accept them. Armada's inhabitants include vampires, cactacae (intelligent warrior cactus-people), scabmettlers (who mold their blood into armor before it coagulates), and others. The city is organized as a dozen different "ridings" with separate local government, and no real overall organization, though they manage to coordinate well enough to navigate to places where they can commit piracy and find the sources of information and tools their plans rely on. But the Lovers (a pair infatuated with each other who seem to hold the reins) have a plan that requires Bellis' linguistic skills to read a book in an obscure language, and a dangerous trip to interview the author. Once that's done, Bellis is of little use to them, but she still longs to leave Armada, and willingly assists in the skullduggery of Silas Fennec a spy from New Cobruzon who desperately wants to get a warning back to their home.

The success of Silas' message, and its disastrous consequences for Armada, as well as the initial success of the Lovers' plan and the violent outcome of that adventure keep the story riveting. Miéville continually throws in details of all the different races and societies, which are nearly always unsettling. It is the kind of fantasy where new kinds of magic constantly arise, though he keeps a kind of rough consistency, so characters seldom develop new abilities unless they were obviously the kind of person with hidden secrets or we got to watch them pick up a mysterious object beforehand.

The Lovers' goal is to get to the Scar of the title, an enormous rent in the world where unbridled possibility is loose, and bizarre powers are available. We get an early view of how possibility magic works when Uther Doul, the Lovers' bodyguard, unleashes his "Possible Sword", which he wields as a scattering of possible trajectories of the blade each laying waste to his opponents separately, while he dances lightly through their blades. The sword is a metaphor for quantum uncertainty made manifest. He is also an expert fighter with the sword powered down, since he doesn't know how to recharge it's ancient power source. He explains to Bellis later that the sword's special power is to unleash and make real the consequences of not only one actual outcome, but of a cloud of alternative possibilities.

Doul, already an expert and precise swordsman, taught himself a completely different art in order to make the most of it. He says

"My arm and the sword mine possibilities. For every factual attack there are a thousand possibilities, nigh-sword ghosts, and all of them strike down together.

"Fighting with a Possible Sword, you must never constrain possibilities, I must be an opportunist, not a planner—fighting from the heart, not the mind. Moving suddenly, surprising myself as well as the opponent. Sudden, labile, and formless. So that each strike could be a thousand others, and each of those nigh-swords is strong. That's how to fight with a Possible Sword."

The overall arc of the story is that Bellis escapes from her native city, is kidnapped, longs for home, and keeps taking one action after another at others' suggestion or request that seem likely to help her or her homeland. In the end, she still feels alone in a place she doesn't love. We're better for the journey, though she never frees herself from her captivity. As I said, it has a very dark feel to it. It's fantasy, but the various kinds of magic that are progressively revealed all feel like reasonable parts of this constantly shifting world.

Wednesday, July 03, 2013

Arctic Rising, Tobias Buckell



Tobias S. Buckell's Arctic Rising takes place in a near future where climate change has opened up the NorthWest passage, and many parties are struggling to control the economic and ecological prospects of the rapidly growing region.
The novel is a finalist for the Prometheus Award, for which voting is going on now, but the libertarian aspects of the story are not very prominent.
Government and independent agents and agencies play various parts. The protagonist works for the UN Polar Guard and her zeppelin was shot down when she inadvertantly observed a nuke being shipped through the passage. More out of duty to a comrade who was killed in that attack than loyalty, she helps chase down the eco-terrorists who were in the process of releasing a swarm of global-warming-fighting flying mirrors. The adventure, drama, and chase scenes are well told, and the characters are interesting. The science fiction is thin.
The story is not particularly anti-government; about the best I can say for its libertarian bona fides is that the government isn't the strongest force on the scene. Some of the government agents and agencies pay little attention to people's rights, but showing this in the middle of a variety of emergencies isn't a good way to make a strong case.



Monday, February 18, 2013

Surface Detail: Iain M. Banks

Iain M. Banks's Surface Detail is an exploration of hell on a couple of different levels. The main conflict in the story is between civilizations that believe in using hell as a real threat to keep sinners in line, and those that are opposed to the practice. According to the story, there are enough societies with a hell in their religion to have made it a common practice, once "people" started moving into simulations, that many created "hell" simulations and sentenced people to spend time there as a judicial punishment.

Most species and societies have a creation myth. The idea of a soul is also common, even if advanced civilizations mostly outgrow belief in it. Once you add in virtual reality, and then the ability to copy minds and host them in a simulation, the idea that virtual afterlives should resemble the cultural traditions' ideas of either heaven of hell seems obvious. The problem is that as people (sophonts of whatever stripe) grow more sophisticated (see Pinker's book on violence) many stop believing that perpetual hell could be a reasonable punishment.

The Culture took a fairly active stance (unusual for them) against the hells, and after some galactic period of time, there was a relative stalemate, in which two factions had very strong opinions that the other side was wrong. "Eventually, though, a war was agreed on as the best way to settle the whole dispute". A virtual war, of course, with both sides agreeing that the outcome on the virtual battlefield would determine the victor in the real world. There's a sub-plot for the virtual battles and another for the political and logistical maneuvering that leaks into the real world.

There's another sub-plot that takes place in one of the simulated hells. Banks does a really good job of envisioning what it would take to make a truly scary hell. In a civilizations that does have hell simulations, but which tries to keep their existence from being generally known [I think hells are like Dr. Strangelove's Doomsday device: "the whole point of a Doomsday Machine is lost, if you *keep* it a *secret*!"] there are some muckraking journalists who want to convince everyone that the stories are true, so they volunteer to infiltrate. Things don't turn out well for them, and this gives Banks the opportunity to really turn the screws and come up with more and more unbearable tortures.

The major plot involves an evil industrialist who kept a defeated rival's daughter as a slave, and eventually killed her. She gets a chance to come back and try to take revenge. The "coming back" requires a trip across the galaxy with a culture Abominator class ship the "Falling Outside The Normal Moral Constraints". FOTNMC is a real personality, and seems pretty unstoppable in a battle of wits or an actual battle.

I really like Banks' Culture stories, and even though this one is filled with plausible and explicit hells and some truly evil and some powerful and amoral characters, I thought it was both fun and had philosophical depth. The proprietor of hell has to deal with someone who can't be satisfactorily tortured because she has really given up all hope, so he comes up with a way to give her just enough hope to allow her to suffer again. Truly nasty.

Sunday, April 29, 2012

A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, Mark Twain

Mark Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court was a joyous discovery for me. I have long been aware of the story, but didn't have any expectations about it beyond what's obvious from the title. When I started reading it, I discovered that Twain used a simple scenario to explore problems of government and to illustrate freedom's benefits over coercion. Twain's penchant for stories celebrating individual endeavor drives this story.

The Connecticut Yankee is Hank Morgan, a blacksmith and horse doctor, who gets knocked out in a fight and awakens in King Arthur's England. Morgan quickly realizes that with his "modern" knowledge, he can do things the people around him won't understand, and he can use this to gain power that he can use to accelerate progress and bring about an early renaissance. Morgan's concerns are education, sanitation, and preparing the people for democracy. It doesn't take him long to figure out that they aren't ready, but he maintains his confidence that it's only a matter of time and education. He is convinced that once they come to see that the nobles are people, too that they'll be willing and able to govern themselves. In the end, he decides that it isn't the people who are the obstacle, but the hereditary aristocracy who can't learn that they aren't different. I suspect Twain was insinuating that the government of his day was composed of people who thought they were naturally suited to manage other people's lives.

Morgan starts out by gaining King Arthur's trust by recognizing the date of his scheduled execution at the court of King Arthur as the day of a lunar eclipse, and pretending to be a mighty wizard (in competition with Merlin) who can control the Sun. Once he has access to Arthur, he uses his understanding of modern science and manufacturing techniques to develop tools and processes that give him real powers to do things none around him know how to do. He then sets about reforming the country by vanquishing individual knights and setting them to tasks like promoting the use of soap that will completely remake society.

Along the way Morgan has to battle superstition, lack of critical thinking, learned helplessness, and many other obstacles. He builds a corps of youngsters who attend his secret schools and man his secret factories to turn out a long list of products that will improve people's lives.

The story is by modern standards closer to fantasy than science fiction, but Twain clearly intended to make the technology development plausible. There are times when his hero takes shortcuts that modern understanding makes obvious, but were probably less clear in Twain's time. For instance, Morgan's first miracle after calling the eclipse is to blow up Merlin's tower, for which he needs dynamite and wire. Twain assumes that making some wire could be done in a couple of weeks starting from scratch, but it without the infrastructure of a manufacturing economy even something so simple would be a lot more work.

I found this a remarkably enjoyable read, and was surprised that Twain covered so much territory. If you can get past the dated prose and Twain's conceit that a single person could manage such a vast enterprise with help only from people who have no concept of the idea of individual initiative, you'll probably enjoy it, too.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Ready Player One: Ernest Cline

Ernest Cline's Ready Player One takes place mostly inside a virtual reality/MMORPG, though as usual with the recent spate of books in this genre, the action bleeds back and forth with physical reality. The setting is pretty familiar: it's 2044, and the economy has bifurcated into haves and have-nots, and most people seem to spend the bulk of their time in the OASIS. James Halliday, the billionaire founder of the company that runs the OASIS has died, and has set up a contest inside the system that will determine who gets his company shares, his wealth, and control of the OASIS itself. It turns out Halliday was hugely into eighties trivia, and most of the story involves the main character, Parzival, and his on-line friends finding and devouring movie, music, video game, and science fiction trivia from that decade. If you're not averse to geeking out on this stuff, it's a fun romp.

Parzival is the first to find the Copper key, the first step on the quest that Halliday built. Others soon figure out how to backtrack on Parzival's location which gives them the clues they need to follow on his trail. This starts a race to complete the quest and beat Innovative Online Industries, a company that wants to win the contest in order to exploit OASIS's business possibilities. The action is fast-paced, the settings are widely varied, and I enjoyed the references to familiar games, movies, and bands. The character development is fairly shallow, with Parzival maintaining a close friendship with one fellow gamer and a crush on a female-named character that lasts throughout the story. He's convinced he knows that it's someone he could love in real life, and never takes seriously the idea that people can have very different personalities and appearance than their avatars.

Ready Player One is a finalist for this year's Prometheus Award, but I don't think it's a very strong contender. The major element of libertarianism is that the central struggle is over whether the game's virtual world will be under the control of the main character and his friends or the bad guys. If you think the OASIS will be all the reality that matters to most of its denizens, you might want to cast that as a struggle over governance. But the choice isn't between any kind of freedom and some kind of authoritarianism, it's between a faction that has one particular corporatist view of how things should be run, and another that has no explicit goals other than keeping the VR out of their control. No mechanism is suggested for preventing the games' owner from doing whatever he wants. Maybe that's a libertarian outcome, in that it's private property, but that's not what the story's struggle is about.

The science fiction element in this story, like a lot of this genre, is thin. The particular capabilities of the VR software are beyond what we can do today, but not very far. The economy and society depicted outside the OASIS aren't a straight-line extrapolation from today, but they bear a strong resemblance to what some mild pessimists seem to expect. It fits the criterion mostly by being the kind of story that members of the LFS would be likely to read and appreciate.

If you like that kind of thing, it's fairly well done, and worth the read.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Snuff, Terry Pratchett

I expected the usual fluffy, tongue-in-cheek material from Terry Pratchett's Snuff, but what I got instead was a serious story with profound insights about the nature of humanity, and the dangers of stereotyping. Of course, it has the usual fluff and tongue-in-cheek as well. Snuff is likely to be a finalist for the Prometheus award this year, because of its strong message of self-reliance and Sam Vimes' matter-of-fact acceptance of every person for their strengths regardless of others' prejudices. Vimes treats everyone as an individual and is incensed when he realizes that Goblins are being enslaved and that the laws don't protect them. (Maybe as a life-long cop he should have noticed earlier, but never mind that.)

The story follows Commander Sam Vines, Police Chief of Ankh-Morpork, as he attempts to take a vacation with his wife at her ancestral country home. He enjoys himself immensely, but that's because he enjoys his work. His vacation, counter to his best intentions, turns into a working vacation when he comes across evidence that a young goblin girl has been murdered in an attempt to frame Vimes himself. When he detects indications that the locals are conspiring to hide something, he goes into full detective mode.

In this case, he gets involved in unravelling a case of willful blindness, and a gap in the law's coverage. Goblins, it turns out have never been respected by the law, so it's not a crime to mistreat them them. But Vimes learns that they are thinking creatures with feelings, and their own culture. When he then learns that they are being killed, mistreated, and enslaved, he does something about it.

It turns into a rollicking adventure, with Vimes, his taciturn but well-armed manservant, and the various oddities that constitute Vimes' police department all playing parts. As Vimes has done in previous Discworld installments, he hires anyone who seems like they could be a competent cop, and turns them into a respectable member of the constabulary, regardless of their apparent handicaps social, ethnic, or species. (He has hired vampires, gargoyles, golems, and zombies. All turned into find police, with their racial predilictions exhibited as strengths.)

There's a good sub-plot woven throgh, in which Vimes attempts to teach his son, Sam, Jr., some of the wisdom he considers essential. Young Sam is oblivious and hilarious, and learns whatever he wants to learn, while uncovering embarrassing nuggets for the local ne'er-do-wells. This book, like the other Novels in Pratchett's Discworld that have been nominated for the Prometheus, hide a strong pro-freedom and pro-individualism message behind a light-hearted and fun surface story.

Friday, January 27, 2012

The Restoration Game: Ken MacLeod

Ken MacLeod's The Restoration Game is yet another entry in this year's bounty of books dominated by MMORPGs and set in a near-future real world. I've read at least three and I think I have another three in progress or at the top of my stack. MacLeod's stands out for having some actual science fiction, which (though it has significant implications for the characters' interpretation of reality) doesn't actually effect the story much. Any other Macguffin would have served as well; it is only revealed at the end of the story, and other than searching for it, its exact nature didn't affect the characters' motivations.

The MMORPG in question is being developed by Lucy Stone during the course of events (which is also not unusual in this year's crop of books.) In this case, Lucy is working for a game design company building a more prosaic MMORPG, and they are contracted to build a special purpose variant that will be used to promulgate certain destabilizing ideas among the population of Krassnia, an ex-soviet bloc region that is ripe for a revolution. Lucy's mother was a spy, so Lucy is used to working undercover and making her way unnoticed in the real world. She also has a few friends who seem to be connected to shady and unscrupulous characters.

The action is exciting and the characters' need to travel around Europe and visit the ex-Soviet bloc give MacLeod plenty of opportunities to compare places and the kinds of activities going on there. Krassnia is a dingy place, but the young people there are vibrant and exploring new business ideas and ignoring their elders who have habits developed and honed behind the Iron Curtain. Lucy herself had some scary run-ins with high officials while she was growing up there. That and her mother's book on the history and folk tales of the country give her a leg up when she has to sneak in and look for the MacGuffin.

Restoration Game is, of course, nominated for the Prometheus Award. It's very well written, and has at least a modicum of science fiction (which gives it an edge over Stephenson's Reamde). The libertarian elements are subtle—There's a popular revolution going on in the background, and government agents are trying to stop Lucy's progress. Lucy isn't explicitly libertarian, but libertarians will like her; she's a strong, responsible individual, trying to make her own way. There isn't a prominent struggle with important libertarian themes, though those seem to be generally lacking in this year's nominees. It's definitely worth a read if you haven't overdone the MMORPG-influenced genre yet.

Sunday, January 08, 2012

Vernor Vinge: The Children of the Sky

Vernor Vinge's The Children of the Sky is a sequel to his wonderful A Fire Upon the Deep. In this novel, we visit the home world of the Tines, a dog-like species who only achieve sentience when melded into packs of 3 to about 6. The main human characters are the children of a group of scientists who found a way to engender a widespread Slow Zone, where higher technology and FTL isn't possible, in order to slow the advance of the Blight, a malignant entity bent on a civilization-wide attack. The humans have been revived from cold sleep by various tine factions, and are trying to understand the galactic context that left them abandoned and possibly vulnerable in the Slow Zone. A few of them remember what life was like on a research station, and there is much recrimination and internecine battling among the maturing adolescents. At the same time, the Tines have their own politics and factions, some of whom are ruthless. They also only have second hand knowledge of the higher technology that was lost, and are jealous to be the first to invent useful tools and weapons.

Vinge is a master a depicting truly alien characters, and keeping them true to the characteristics he assigns them. The Tines are individually quite incapable, and don't function well when in close proximity to Tines other than their their own small pack. In this story, we also get to see that the Tropical Choir, which is a super-pack of millions of Tines, somehow manages to operate somewhat cohesively, to the surprise of the northern Tines. Individual packs of Tines have distinct personalities, and can plan and make and keep agreements. When they lose members, it's a lot like aphasic people, with distinct skills and knowledge getting lost. Some Tines and humans explore various approaches to sidestep these problems, but the alternatives have drawbacks that are often worse.

Children of the Sky is a nominee for this year's Prometheus award, and it may be the best written of this year's novels, but the libertarian elements are hard to spot. The Tines don't have an organized government, and no one seems to collect taxes. It's hard to say that they have a well-functioning spontaneous order, since there's little commerce to be seen, even though Tycoon is portrayed as a successful and innovative businessman. (Also, he/they seems to operate sweatshop-style factories, and imprisons and tortures rivals.)

Since the story takes place entirely on one backwoods planet in the slow zone in Vinge's enormous universe, the scope is necessarily narrow, so the implications for galactic civilization that we're used to in Vinge's stories in this universe are missing. The story is still one of adventure, intrigue, invention, progress and loyalty. The way that Tine packs can change attitude, knowledge, and alliance when they gain or lose members gives Vinge unusual opportunities for plot twists. It's definitely a fun read. Whether you like Vinge, or haven't yet seen how he can bring an alien civilization to life, you'll enjoy this.