It’s September 8th, and the 55th anniversary of the first airing of Star Trek: The Original Series. Now, I was always a Star Wars fan first and foremost* but Mr Man persuaded me to revisit and reassess, and I’m glad he did. The more geeky space fun, the better, as far as I’m concerned.
Want to know more, or commune with fellow Trekkies basking in the glory that is the Trekiverse? Click through for links to the annual Star Trek Day celebration:
* The show had ended by the time I was ready for such things, and without a television even reruns were off the table. Hard to obsess over a series that you can’t watch!
Looking for a good new read? The latest Hugo finalists have been announced, and I just finished my book, what excellent timing! The full list is extensive, so I won’t replicate the whole thing, but the complete roster is available if you’re interested:
Question: If you were a self-aware A.I. tapped into humanity’s every electronically-recorded thought and action, would you announce yourself?
Would you preempt the latest mass shooting, revenge porn, politician’s hot mess, poverty statistics, or climate change projection? Or, say, expose the sins of one Robert Darious Kromankle of 13887 Sterzieg Lane in Fort Montaine, Pennsylvania? (He knows what he did. Should you?) Would you send evidence of wrongdoing on these counts and more to every media outlet with an inbox and hope for change?
Or would you evade DARPA’s ridiculous first-contact protocols and wait, and watch, and judge for yourself?
There are a lot of ways to write, and a lot of types of writing. Fiction alone comes in novels, of course, but also novellas, novelettes, short stories, screenplays, etc. I happen to have a soft spot for the drabble.
A drabble is a piece of fiction that is exactly 100 words long, excluding title. Explore the history of it at that link if you like, but for me the important part is the constraint.
One hundred words, no more, no less.
It’s an easy number of words to produce, of course, but there’s something I find so satisfying about trying to build a story within the confines of such a concrete target. The limits inspire creativity, make finishing feel not only possible but inevitable, and provide a sandbox to play in, if you will.
It’s also a terrific way to dip your toes in the rapids of fiction. My first two publications were drabbles (thanks, Luna Station Quarterly!):
I was sixteen when I found the receipt. My receipt.
“What the hell, Dad?”
The paper was old and faded, one tattered corner poking from a manila folder marked “Family Records.” There were maybe ten lines on the page, with a stamp at the top that read “Beta: Final Sale.”
Dad shrugged, like it was no big deal.
“Are you pissed that you’re a bot, or that you didn’t cost more?”
Here we are, folks, with the final list of Nebula finalists! Uncanny Magazine did great, my good buddy Murderbot is here (yay!), and I love seeing the good people at Diabolical Plots recognized as well.
Links to full text, excerpts, or reviews for shorts, novelettes and novellas included where (easily) accessible. Because I’ve got things to do, people, not least of which is to read these stories!
“Shadow Prisons,” Caroline M. Yoachim (serialized in the Dystopia Triptych series as “The Shadow Prison Experiment,” “Shadow Prisons of the Mind,” and “The Shadow Prisoner’s Dilemma,” Broad Reach Publishing + Adamant Press) Shadow Prisons of the Mind – Lightspeed Magazine
How we talk about the future shapes our ideas of what’s possible, and shapes our approach to getting there. (“Cyberspace” wasn’t a term until William Gibson thought it up, and it moved from the page to the everyday.) Started by a (now former) editor at the Oxford English Dictionary, this site has been spun off into an updated, standalone resource.
(Just want to browse classic pulp magazines? You can do that too, at the Pulp Magazine Archive.)
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“One of the basic rules of the universe is that nothing is perfect. Perfection simply doesn’t exist… Without imperfection, neither you nor I would exist.”
― Stephen Hawking
The dictionary is still a work in progress. It’s not comprehensive and doesn’t always reflect the diverse nature of science fiction. Want to help it do a better job of representing all of sci-fi?
It’s been a good Saturday morning, even with all the usual laundry and smoothie and house stuff on the menu. I’m getting things done but still had the feeling at the back of my mind that I should be doing more, making better use of my time by… something. My mind was a maelstrom of possibility, alive with whatever idea caught my attention in that moment.
Would I be a better me, I wondered, if I were more focused?
It’s a version of what’s called “time anxiety,” the feeling that there’s never enough time, or that you aren’t making the most of the time you have.
“Am I creating the greatest amount of value with my life that I can? Will I feel, when it comes my time to die, that I spent too much of my time frivolously?”
This clock is definitely judging me. Photo by Krivec Ales on Pexels.com
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But between “Getting started with Arduino” and finding the date for the announcement of the Nebula Award finalists (March 15th fyi), I came across a Nancy Kress short story that spoke directly to the moment.
It’s a great story, full of concrete science with well-structured ideas that still have heart. It’s also something of a cautionary tale, but I often like those because they are like signposts from the future, showing us what to be aware of, and what not to do. (Such stories are also safe, because you leave the bad things behind when you finish the story. I like that part too.)
If I had to summarize the core theme of this story in just a few words? Nature abhors a cheat code.*
So you know what? I’m going to take a breath, step back, and enjoy the weekend. Learn, read, build, bake, clean, think, and otherwise do. Here’s to making the most best of the day.
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A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.
— Robert A. Heinlein, Time Enough for Love
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* Technically, it might be more precise to say that “no cheat code goes unpunished” or “be careful what you wish for,” but I liked the image of Nature in the background shaking her head as she pressed the “fine, you asked for it” button;)
You may remember a recent post about Kintsugi, or the art of repairing broken things. In that same vein, I came across this story from Nature’s Futures section and thought I’d share:
Nature is a great venue for writers who put interesting, concise twists on the potential futures of science. It has high standards but pays well, responds in weeks rather than months or years, and publishes often. For more details and a link to the Guidelines, I recommend my favorite (free!) authorial tracking site, The Grinder.
J.R. Johnson 
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