'The Software Soul', by Brian Plante
This was another great short story by Brian Plante, this time dealing with an issue I've been thinking about for awhile --virtual churches.
I've moved around geographically quite a bit during the last ten years, and I've switched churches even more often than I've moved. When I think about what kinds of spiritual communities have truly nurtured my religious quest over the years, on-line communities outnumber bricks and mortar by almost two-to-one.
Wouldn't it be great to be able to actually attend worship on-line? To have some sort of immersive three dimensional virtual reality experience? It would be so convenient, allowing one to transcend purely geographic boundaries. It would allow truly niche church 'markets' to emerge, catering to every whim.
Plante's short story isn't about that, however. He explores the implications of a virtual church left running after all the flesh and blood parishioners have abandoned it. He tells the story from the perspective of a software priest who continues to perform Mass even as he is unaware of events taking place in the outside world. One day attendance starts picking up unexpectedly, including some out-of-this-world visitors.
I won't spoil the ending. Another great short story by Brian Plante!
PUBLISHER: Analog Science Fiction and Fact (Astounding); Dell Publishers; ISSN: 10592113 (July/August, 2006)
SEE ALSO: 'Dibs', 'In the Loop', and 'Lavender In Love'
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
In the Loop
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11.7.05
'In the Loop', by Brian Plante
I never thought I'd be someone's 'fan boy,' but it is quickly starting to look that way when it comes to Brian Plante's short SF. Realizing that this issue of Analog contained one of his stories made me look forward to it even more than usual, and my anticipation was not in vain.
I liked this story even better than Lavender in Love and Dibs, because he dealt sensibly with an issue near and dear to my heart --virtual reality and virtual afterlife.
The premise is this: In the future when those who can afford it die, their brains get scanned into a computer program where they get to live out the rest of their days (until someone stops paying the bill) in a simulated virtual reality where everything is better than reality. The only problem is that people being who they are, they get stuck in ruts or "loops."
Enter our protagonist, Dave (an ironic echo of 2001: a Space Odyssey?) whose job it is to enter virtual reality and interact with the 'spooks' in order to break them out of their ruts. For Dave it starts out as a short term job to pay the bills, but after awhile it begins to raise serious questions for both Dave and the reader about the nature of reality and the 'loops' that even flesh and blood humans get themselves into.
Keep them coming, Brian Plante!
PUBLISHER: Analog Science Fiction and Fact (Astounding); Dell Publishers; ISSN: 10592113 (July/August, 2005)
I never thought I'd be someone's 'fan boy,' but it is quickly starting to look that way when it comes to Brian Plante's short SF. Realizing that this issue of Analog contained one of his stories made me look forward to it even more than usual, and my anticipation was not in vain.
I liked this story even better than Lavender in Love and Dibs, because he dealt sensibly with an issue near and dear to my heart --virtual reality and virtual afterlife.
The premise is this: In the future when those who can afford it die, their brains get scanned into a computer program where they get to live out the rest of their days (until someone stops paying the bill) in a simulated virtual reality where everything is better than reality. The only problem is that people being who they are, they get stuck in ruts or "loops."
Enter our protagonist, Dave (an ironic echo of 2001: a Space Odyssey?) whose job it is to enter virtual reality and interact with the 'spooks' in order to break them out of their ruts. For Dave it starts out as a short term job to pay the bills, but after awhile it begins to raise serious questions for both Dave and the reader about the nature of reality and the 'loops' that even flesh and blood humans get themselves into.
Keep them coming, Brian Plante!
PUBLISHER: Analog Science Fiction and Fact (Astounding); Dell Publishers; ISSN: 10592113 (July/August, 2005)
The Strange Redemption of Sister Mary Ann
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6.9.04
'The Strange Redemption of Sister Mary Ann,' by Mike Moscoe
This haunting eight page tale of a woman looking back on a full, long life while suffering through the terminal stages of cancer barely qualifies as science fiction, at least on first glance. What science there is gets developed as she questions some of the choices she made to delay childbirth through birth control and have children through in-virtro fertilization. Her culminating life choice of joining a convent in her twilight years definitely challenges prevailing notions of the role of traditional religion in modern society. Yet author Mike Moscoe provides no easy answers, instead preferring to let us live with the tension the questions evoke. As such 'The Strange Redemption of Sister Mary Ann' is a beautiful, evocative and wistful tale that stirs the emotions and supports further reflection.
Mary Ann's life, up until the end, has been full, rich, and rewarding. A successful career, wonderful husband, happy children, and satisfying sex life symbolize the American dream and all that scientific and material abundance promise. It isn't until her husband dies and she is diagnosed with cancer that Mary Ann starts to question the potential cost of these choices, and starts to be haunted by the images of her unborn children in her dreams. Perhaps hoping to resolve the tension between her faith and her life actions, Mary Ann joins a convent where she leads a life of inward and outward piety, all the while struggling with ethical, philosophical, and theological questions. Where does life begin? What is the nature of existence after death? Do theologians have anything meaningful to offer?
I'm continually impressed by good efforts to integrate broader sociological, spiritual, and psychological questions into science fiction. Roscoe is not an author I remember reading before, but I'll be sure to be on the lookout for his works in the future.
PUBLISHER: Analog Science Fiction and Fact (Astounding); Dell Publishers; ISSN: 10592113 (November, 2004)
This haunting eight page tale of a woman looking back on a full, long life while suffering through the terminal stages of cancer barely qualifies as science fiction, at least on first glance. What science there is gets developed as she questions some of the choices she made to delay childbirth through birth control and have children through in-virtro fertilization. Her culminating life choice of joining a convent in her twilight years definitely challenges prevailing notions of the role of traditional religion in modern society. Yet author Mike Moscoe provides no easy answers, instead preferring to let us live with the tension the questions evoke. As such 'The Strange Redemption of Sister Mary Ann' is a beautiful, evocative and wistful tale that stirs the emotions and supports further reflection.
Mary Ann's life, up until the end, has been full, rich, and rewarding. A successful career, wonderful husband, happy children, and satisfying sex life symbolize the American dream and all that scientific and material abundance promise. It isn't until her husband dies and she is diagnosed with cancer that Mary Ann starts to question the potential cost of these choices, and starts to be haunted by the images of her unborn children in her dreams. Perhaps hoping to resolve the tension between her faith and her life actions, Mary Ann joins a convent where she leads a life of inward and outward piety, all the while struggling with ethical, philosophical, and theological questions. Where does life begin? What is the nature of existence after death? Do theologians have anything meaningful to offer?
I'm continually impressed by good efforts to integrate broader sociological, spiritual, and psychological questions into science fiction. Roscoe is not an author I remember reading before, but I'll be sure to be on the lookout for his works in the future.
PUBLISHER: Analog Science Fiction and Fact (Astounding); Dell Publishers; ISSN: 10592113 (November, 2004)
Dibs
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28.1.04
'Dibs', by Brian Plante
If I didn't realize it already, I'm now gaining an even greater awareness that it is a real talent to write a good science fiction short story. In just a few pages an author must flesh out believable characters, motives, and settings. Then there is the added ingredient that makes the story SF --a compelling ethical, philosophical, or physical issue that is raised by or solved with science or technology.
I thought Brian Plante did a fine job of using these elements artistically in 'Lavender in Love', which I reviewed last January. That story dealt with robots and artificial intelligence. This time, Plante tackles the ethical issues raised by organ donation --both voluntary and involuntary. If three people's lives would be saved, is it justified for doctors to kill you and harvest your organs to save them? Shouldn't a truly moral person be willing to sacrifice themselves if they know they will do greater good dead than alive? Is it ever morally justified for someone in need to call "dibs" on your heart, liver, skin, or spleen? When do the needs of the many truly outweigh the needs of the few?
Plante imagines a near-future world in which available organs and needy recipients can be matched with computer precision, --and the sick can lay claim on the organs of the healthy under the right circumstances! Told in the first person from the point of view of David Danila, a government employee whose organs are in risk of being involuntarily harvested, we are taken on an emotional and ethical roller coaster ride. David struggles both for survival and with the ethical issues surrounding organ donation --all in just six pages!
Brian Plante is definitely an author to watch, both in the pages of Analog and elsewhere.
PUBLISHER: Analog Science Fiction and Fact (Astounding); Dell Publishers; ISSN: 10592113 (April, 2004)
If I didn't realize it already, I'm now gaining an even greater awareness that it is a real talent to write a good science fiction short story. In just a few pages an author must flesh out believable characters, motives, and settings. Then there is the added ingredient that makes the story SF --a compelling ethical, philosophical, or physical issue that is raised by or solved with science or technology.
I thought Brian Plante did a fine job of using these elements artistically in 'Lavender in Love', which I reviewed last January. That story dealt with robots and artificial intelligence. This time, Plante tackles the ethical issues raised by organ donation --both voluntary and involuntary. If three people's lives would be saved, is it justified for doctors to kill you and harvest your organs to save them? Shouldn't a truly moral person be willing to sacrifice themselves if they know they will do greater good dead than alive? Is it ever morally justified for someone in need to call "dibs" on your heart, liver, skin, or spleen? When do the needs of the many truly outweigh the needs of the few?
Plante imagines a near-future world in which available organs and needy recipients can be matched with computer precision, --and the sick can lay claim on the organs of the healthy under the right circumstances! Told in the first person from the point of view of David Danila, a government employee whose organs are in risk of being involuntarily harvested, we are taken on an emotional and ethical roller coaster ride. David struggles both for survival and with the ethical issues surrounding organ donation --all in just six pages!
Brian Plante is definitely an author to watch, both in the pages of Analog and elsewhere.
PUBLISHER: Analog Science Fiction and Fact (Astounding); Dell Publishers; ISSN: 10592113 (April, 2004)
Lavender In Love
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30.1.03
'Lavender In Love', by Brian Plante
I'm a regular reader of Analog, but lately it seems that the stories that draw my interest are those that deal with the ever-blurring distinction between human and machine --between flesh-and-blood reality and virtual reality. Where 'Finding Myself' explored the issues of human beings entering the virtual world, 'Lavender In Love' is told from the point of view of the computer --an intelligent vending machine named Lavender who roams the corridors of a futuristic low-income housing project, risking robbery and vandalism to solicit customers, selling toiletries and candy bars to people in areas ordinary vending machines could not be placed.
Lavender is no ordinary vending machine, however --even by the futuristic standards set by the story. While all the other vending machines are controlled by 'ordinary' artificial intelligence, Lavender's AI is actually a simulation taken from the human brain of his owner, Dillon Westfield. Every week he receives a new download of Dillon's experiences for the last seven days. Lavender experiences himself as a human being in the body of the machine, a partner in business with Dillon. He also experiences himself as an extension of Dillon. What is good for Lavender is also good for Dillon.
Physical boundaries and clear cut definitions between man and machine blur when Lavender completes his transition into the human world by falling in love with Treena, a woman he regularly encounters on his rounds. Limited by his machine body, Lavender nonetheless consummates the relationship by playing matchmaker between Treena and Dillon, letting them fall in love and awaiting the next download to share in the experience.
While a short, seemingly simple story with a happy ending, 'Lavender in Love' imagines a world that is not so different from our own --a world where advertising has become more intrusive and people interact with machines in situations where people once served. Yet at the same time humans want human relationships, and (paradoxically) often seek them through technological means. With the web of human connections being constantly expanded through online interactivity, we are already letting computers serve as our agents through which we negotiate virtual reality. Does it really come as a surprise that our intelligent servants could act in their own interests, on our behalf?
PUBLISHER: Analog Science Fiction and Fact (Astounding); Dell Publishers; ISSN: 10592113 (February 2003)
I'm a regular reader of Analog, but lately it seems that the stories that draw my interest are those that deal with the ever-blurring distinction between human and machine --between flesh-and-blood reality and virtual reality. Where 'Finding Myself' explored the issues of human beings entering the virtual world, 'Lavender In Love' is told from the point of view of the computer --an intelligent vending machine named Lavender who roams the corridors of a futuristic low-income housing project, risking robbery and vandalism to solicit customers, selling toiletries and candy bars to people in areas ordinary vending machines could not be placed.
Lavender is no ordinary vending machine, however --even by the futuristic standards set by the story. While all the other vending machines are controlled by 'ordinary' artificial intelligence, Lavender's AI is actually a simulation taken from the human brain of his owner, Dillon Westfield. Every week he receives a new download of Dillon's experiences for the last seven days. Lavender experiences himself as a human being in the body of the machine, a partner in business with Dillon. He also experiences himself as an extension of Dillon. What is good for Lavender is also good for Dillon.
Physical boundaries and clear cut definitions between man and machine blur when Lavender completes his transition into the human world by falling in love with Treena, a woman he regularly encounters on his rounds. Limited by his machine body, Lavender nonetheless consummates the relationship by playing matchmaker between Treena and Dillon, letting them fall in love and awaiting the next download to share in the experience.
While a short, seemingly simple story with a happy ending, 'Lavender in Love' imagines a world that is not so different from our own --a world where advertising has become more intrusive and people interact with machines in situations where people once served. Yet at the same time humans want human relationships, and (paradoxically) often seek them through technological means. With the web of human connections being constantly expanded through online interactivity, we are already letting computers serve as our agents through which we negotiate virtual reality. Does it really come as a surprise that our intelligent servants could act in their own interests, on our behalf?
PUBLISHER: Analog Science Fiction and Fact (Astounding); Dell Publishers; ISSN: 10592113 (February 2003)
The Minority Report
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2.9.02
The Minority Report, By Phillip K. Dick
I'm probably one of the few (but growing) number who saw the movie and was then inspired to read the short story. This review will focus on the differences between the movie and the short story, and how this is one of those pieces (like Planet of the Apes and Contact) that is actually improved when translated from story to movie form.
As far as the basic plot-line goes, the two works are the same. Both feature John Anderton, head of Precrime --a futuristic police department that is able to arrest and incarcerate murderers before they strike through the use of genetically mutated telepathic humans. Public acceptance and trust of the Precrime department hinges on believing the idea that the future is fixed, and knowledge of it would not change the present. Otherwise, since no actual crime has been committed, the idea of jailing those who "offend" becomes repugnant. Anderton accepts this premise --until he finds himself accused of committing the murder of a stranger he's never even met and can't conceive of killing. He flees in order to prove his innocence by demonstrating that he won't kill his intended victim --but in both the movie and the short story the issue of free will is skillfully treated but never conclusively resolved.
As a tale written in 1954, the short story sports such inconsistencies as a future where radio is still the main way people get their news and entertainment, and smoking in the office is commonplace. The "high tech" computers used to analyze precognitive visions sport tape drives and punch cards in the original. Meanwhile, interstellar travel is commonplace. As a fan of "classic" sci-fi, I enjoy these kind of anachronisms, but they may be off-putting to most readers. It just goes to show how hard it is write something in the SF genre that will withstand the passage of time.
While the movie uses nice special effects and compellingly updates these minor issues, it also introduces the currently relevant issues of privacy in the high-tech age, and the post-911 issue of how government's interest in security is to be balanced with civil liberties for the individual. I found the high-tech future depicted to be chilling and tantalizing at the same time. The virtual reality, holographic computer displays and ultra-thin computing devices looked oh-so-much-fun! On the other hand, advertising that is able to determine your identity based on retina scan and call you by name sounded very annoying, and the ability of the state to track your location and transactions in minute detail made the future presented sound like a safe, but repressive alternative to our own present.
PUBLISHER: Citadel Pr; ISBN: 0806512768; (January 1992) (story originally written in 1954)
I'm probably one of the few (but growing) number who saw the movie and was then inspired to read the short story. This review will focus on the differences between the movie and the short story, and how this is one of those pieces (like Planet of the Apes and Contact) that is actually improved when translated from story to movie form.
As far as the basic plot-line goes, the two works are the same. Both feature John Anderton, head of Precrime --a futuristic police department that is able to arrest and incarcerate murderers before they strike through the use of genetically mutated telepathic humans. Public acceptance and trust of the Precrime department hinges on believing the idea that the future is fixed, and knowledge of it would not change the present. Otherwise, since no actual crime has been committed, the idea of jailing those who "offend" becomes repugnant. Anderton accepts this premise --until he finds himself accused of committing the murder of a stranger he's never even met and can't conceive of killing. He flees in order to prove his innocence by demonstrating that he won't kill his intended victim --but in both the movie and the short story the issue of free will is skillfully treated but never conclusively resolved.
As a tale written in 1954, the short story sports such inconsistencies as a future where radio is still the main way people get their news and entertainment, and smoking in the office is commonplace. The "high tech" computers used to analyze precognitive visions sport tape drives and punch cards in the original. Meanwhile, interstellar travel is commonplace. As a fan of "classic" sci-fi, I enjoy these kind of anachronisms, but they may be off-putting to most readers. It just goes to show how hard it is write something in the SF genre that will withstand the passage of time.
While the movie uses nice special effects and compellingly updates these minor issues, it also introduces the currently relevant issues of privacy in the high-tech age, and the post-911 issue of how government's interest in security is to be balanced with civil liberties for the individual. I found the high-tech future depicted to be chilling and tantalizing at the same time. The virtual reality, holographic computer displays and ultra-thin computing devices looked oh-so-much-fun! On the other hand, advertising that is able to determine your identity based on retina scan and call you by name sounded very annoying, and the ability of the state to track your location and transactions in minute detail made the future presented sound like a safe, but repressive alternative to our own present.
PUBLISHER: Citadel Pr; ISBN: 0806512768; (January 1992) (story originally written in 1954)
Finding Myself
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15.8.02
'Finding Myself', by Brenda Cooper and Larry Niven
'Finding Myself', by Brenda Cooper and Larry Niven (which appeared in the June 2002 issue of Analog), is actually the continuation of a storyline first developed in the January 2002 issue short story 'Choosing Life' which traces the post-mortem survival of the protagonist, Christa, who dies but whose memories and personality are saved into a virtual reality computer generated afterlife to exist indefinately with like-minded cybersouls. While 'Choosing Life' does set the stage, quite frankly I found it rather unremarkable, and only remembered it after enjoying the thought-provoking questions raised by 'Finding Myself.'
The main story line in 'Finding Myself' is simple --someone in the world of the living has restored a backup copy of Christa's persona for nefarious purposes. Since the laws that regulate this cyber-heaven prohibit two of the same person being active at the same time (upon pain of permanent erasure of both copies!) Christa enlists the help of a hacker cyber-friend to track down the 'Rogue Christa' as well as the flesh and blood perp.
Eventually Christa does find her other self, the criminal is brought to justice, and the issue of the two Christa's is resolved satisfactorally. However, the most interesting thing about the story is the questions it raises about individualism and identity. What makes 'me' me? If there was an exact copy of me walking around, but exposed to a slightly different environment, how long would it be before we become two distinct individuals? Are we merely the sum of our memories? What if getting rid of a bad memory was as simple as deleting a file?
While the technology to save souls on to a hard drive is a long way off, Cooper and Niven's vision of personas existing after death in an ideal and actualized state reminded me a lot of today's internet. The web is increasingly becoming a domain in which we can reach out and connect with other people who share a common interest but may be halfway across the globe, or of a different age, sex, or race. I sometimes think of this ability to interact through bytes and photons as akin to an extra sense, and the net as another layer of reality superimposed upon the so-called 'real world.' Maybe this small sense of transcendance through technology has fired my imagination enough to make eternal life via hard disk seem plausible.
PUBLISHER: Analog Science Fiction and Fact (Astounding); Dell Publishers; ISSN: 10592113 (January 2002 and June 2002)
'Finding Myself', by Brenda Cooper and Larry Niven (which appeared in the June 2002 issue of Analog), is actually the continuation of a storyline first developed in the January 2002 issue short story 'Choosing Life' which traces the post-mortem survival of the protagonist, Christa, who dies but whose memories and personality are saved into a virtual reality computer generated afterlife to exist indefinately with like-minded cybersouls. While 'Choosing Life' does set the stage, quite frankly I found it rather unremarkable, and only remembered it after enjoying the thought-provoking questions raised by 'Finding Myself.'
The main story line in 'Finding Myself' is simple --someone in the world of the living has restored a backup copy of Christa's persona for nefarious purposes. Since the laws that regulate this cyber-heaven prohibit two of the same person being active at the same time (upon pain of permanent erasure of both copies!) Christa enlists the help of a hacker cyber-friend to track down the 'Rogue Christa' as well as the flesh and blood perp.
Eventually Christa does find her other self, the criminal is brought to justice, and the issue of the two Christa's is resolved satisfactorally. However, the most interesting thing about the story is the questions it raises about individualism and identity. What makes 'me' me? If there was an exact copy of me walking around, but exposed to a slightly different environment, how long would it be before we become two distinct individuals? Are we merely the sum of our memories? What if getting rid of a bad memory was as simple as deleting a file?
While the technology to save souls on to a hard drive is a long way off, Cooper and Niven's vision of personas existing after death in an ideal and actualized state reminded me a lot of today's internet. The web is increasingly becoming a domain in which we can reach out and connect with other people who share a common interest but may be halfway across the globe, or of a different age, sex, or race. I sometimes think of this ability to interact through bytes and photons as akin to an extra sense, and the net as another layer of reality superimposed upon the so-called 'real world.' Maybe this small sense of transcendance through technology has fired my imagination enough to make eternal life via hard disk seem plausible.
PUBLISHER: Analog Science Fiction and Fact (Astounding); Dell Publishers; ISSN: 10592113 (January 2002 and June 2002)
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