I finally got around to reading Larry Correia’s take on the Amelia Zhao affair. For those not familiar with this kerfuffle, Zhao is an aspiring YA author whose debut fantasy book was due to be published in June (https://ameliezhao.com ). The book received a substantially less than warm welcome within YA-social media. The core of the criticism was from people who had read the book but the wider antagonism against the book was more secondhand. Feeling besieged by claims of racism within the work and debatable plagiarism (as I understand it more like cases of cliches or being very derivative), Zhao withdrew the book. [That’s my potted version, corrections welcome]
There’s an important issue here on legitimate criticism of creative work versus collective bullying or bad-faith verbal attacks on authors. It is more than possible for a given situation to include all three. Unintentional bullying tactics (eg the classic internet comment section dogpile) where any one individual is just expressing a reasonable opinion but which adds to what appears to be the infamous/nebulous internet “mob”. I don’t know what the solution is to these issues but “nobody can criticise authors or there works” isn’t it.
So I’m parking that question of practical ethics for the moment. I’ve got my own code around internet arguments (always be more civil and more charitable to the person you are arguing with than the person you are arguing with) but that doesn’t address questions of unintended collective bullying.
Anyway, quicker than you can say “SJW” in a sneering tone, our old pal Larry Correia waded in to castigate all and sundry: http://monsterhunternation.com/2019/01/31/to-the-book-community-go-fuck-yourself-an-anti-apology/#comment-93892 (link for reference – you can probably guess the tone and overall message).
Several points spring to mind:
- If you are an aspiring writer and ever doubt your capacity to put word to page, don’t forget that Larry Correia is a very successful writer commercially and makes a good living from his books. He himself has pointed out that having an entertaining story to tell is more important that your wordsmithing capability. Tell a fun story and don’t worry whether you are actually brilliant at putting sentences together: Larry isn’t and it hasn’t held him back and seriously, good for him.
- That first point might be inspiring but it contains the seeds of author obnoxiousness and self-entitlement that keeps cropping up. Sure the Sad Pups were a particular political example but it’s not confined to the right. One reaction to the self-doubt that plagues anybody in a creative industry is to adopt a toxic quasi will-to-power mentality that treats any and all criticism as an attack that needs to be met with greater force. Authors that think they have to adopt Sean Connery’s dictum from The Untouchables is the flip side of toxicity within book communities. It’s same seed of rejecting criticism that makes Scientology attractive to actors. Success in creative domains has a degree of unpredictability that enables superstition.
- Larry was and remains a vocal supporter of Gamergate. So when he talks about horrific bullying by internet mobs he knows what he’s talking about. Sure, it’s from a point at the very depths of hypocrisy given he endorsed one of the worst cases of mass internet bullying and intimidation but we can rest assured that any ignorance demonstrated in his piece is wilful rather than accidental.
Put another way, in attempting to make discussion within a genre-community less toxic, safer and less inclined towards bullying (intended or unintended) the rants of Larry is not what is needed.
I’m not sure where spoilers begin and end here, so a general warning: I’m discussing various monsters and what they do. Generally, these aren’t spoilers as the premise is often in trailers but to be on the safe side if you would rather watch A Quiet Place or Bird Box or almost any episode of Doctor Who written by Steven Moffat without any foreknowledge of what the monsters are like, then don’t go past the fold.The spoiler monster can’t get you if you don’t click here
Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a decent non-projectile based energy weapon side-arm that is vaguely gun shaped. They might blast, phase, zap, pew-pew, disrupt or disintegrate but they have to give auditory and visual clues that they are operating. A silent and invisible beam of death may work quite effectively in a book but on screen its going to just look weird in battle scene. I can imagine some future small arms manufacturer adding colour beams and sound effects to an energy weapon just because customers are creeped out by an otherwise apparently inanimate gun.
At one level beam weapons are well understood technology. People know how lasers work and the technology of using pulses of high energy particles as a weapon is something that arms manufacturers have been exploring for decades. A hand held version of such devices would be an engineering challenge beyond modern day capability but as a piece of speculative technology it’s not anything like as absurd as an FTL drive.
Even so, the kind of effects shown on movies for such weapons don’t really match what we might expect from real energy weapons. Aside from the noise and the visible pulses, on-screen energy weapons hit people and objects in ways that imply momentum. Han Solo’s blaster will knock back a stormtrooper or cause things to explode like they’ve been punched. Sci-fi weapons inherit the fictional aspects of real weapons (e.g. handguns in movies are often shown as throwing people around more than a bullet impact actually would) and then exaggerate them for reasons due to the aesthetics of battle scenes.
Meanwhile, the Star Trek phaser has to do all that Star Wars blaster does but also act as a cutting tool and have a handy-dandy stun setting. A stun weapon appears to act not unlike an electromagnetic-pulse weapon but on a person’s nervous system. I can see how such a weapon might have varying degrees of impact on a person (including both lethal and hopefully less than lethal settings) but it would be quite different in principle to the kind of energy beam device that the Star Trek phaser is at other times.
The sci-fi generic ray gun is a mix of devices:
- A force field weapon. It actually makes sense if force fields exist in a sci-fi setting (ignoring how they might work) that the same technology could be weaponised. A narrow force field that projects outwards for a short period and then dissipates would be not just a weapon but a handy power tool. You could make a hammer out of it or maybe a screwdriver…
- A regular energy beam weapon. Lasers have been around in reality for a long time and can zap energy from one spot to another and burn things. It needn’t be photons – it could be a beam of ionised particles (which might better explain all the light and sound effects, as the particles might cause gases in the air to glow or expand creating noise).
- Some kind of EMP weapon that somehow (waves hand) effect nervous systems or something. In reality nothing would neatly stun a person without danger of death.
In truth they are all fantasies, controlled by aesthetic and plot considerations– weapons whose effects change to fit circumstance and which can be deadly when the story needs deadly or which can bloodlessly incapacitate somebody when the story needs that.
This is a follow up to yesterday’s post about digital time travel, My initial thought as to why it wouldn’t actually work was that it violates the speed of light. However, I’m less sure of that and now think conservation of energy would be the more obvious problem. Obviously its all messed up as far as causality goes but that’s inherent in any time travel device.
To simplify matters, I’ve reduced the scenario to simply a backwards telegraph sending a single Morse code like ‘dash’ a short distance back in time to another telegraph station,
The numbers show the sci-fi time travel sequence and left-to-right shows the normal passage of time.
- The operator uses the telegram key to send a ‘dash’ pulse.
- The time machine sends it backwards in time down the telegraph wires.
- The signal passes along the wires, covering the same distance in the same amount of elapsed time as a regular “dash”.
- The other telegraph signal “receives” the signal. However, to an observer, it will look like the “dash” originated at the past telegram office and is being sent regularly down the wires. They key hasn’t moved but it will look like it made the dash.
- I’ve got the dash appearing on a ticker tape but that would only happen if the telegram office printed out the telegrams they SEND rather than just the ones they recieved.
Because the signal is traveling both backwards in time and backwards in space (so to speak), it actually looks physically conventional. The whole thing looks like a signal going from the past telegram officer to the future telegram office if we just look at the signal going down the wires.
The freaky bit is that the past telegram office appears to send a “dash” without anybody pressing the key. The electricity appears from nowhere! Meanwhile, the future telegram office produces an electrical pulse that to a regular observer just disappears. Those no net gain in energy overall, so you couldn’t build a perpetual motion machine but there is a short term localized violation of the conservation of energy.
I was thinking about this post and I realized I’d forgotten about one of my favourite time travel stories: Timescape by Gregory Benford. The novel now suffers a little from having its future parts set in 1998 (although maybe not, if you think about how it ends) and I haven’t re-read it recently but it intrigued me when I was younger.
The plot involves two physicists: one in the UK in 1998 and one in California in the 50s/60s. 1998 is in the midst of an ecological disaster due to a toxic algal bloom that is out of control. Using tachyons, an attempt is made to send a message to the past that hopefully will be just enough to mitigate the disaster without stopping it so as to avoid a paradox. The time travel in the story is purely information, although it uses our sci-fi favourite of tachyons.
That message from the future got me thinking. Practically there’s obviously no way to send an electrical signal down a wire into the past (i.e. this I’m engaging with fiction here not an actual proposal). I suppose that information arriving at a destination before it left its starting point violates the speed of light but looked at just in terms of distance traveled over elapsed time it doesn’t.
Imagine a far-future AI that propagates itself backwards in time, hopping down networks of fibres and wires into the past. It can only travel so far, obviously, because at some point there’s just not enough computing power to host its existence in the past and going even further back, there’s just not enough interconnected wires to travel down. The earliest time it could travel back to would be around the 1990s when there’s enough infrastructure and enough always-on internet for it to exist.
More interestingly would be such an AI travelling back to now. Perhaps it could go back earlier but at this point in history there’s just enough internet of things, internet connected robots/drones etc that the AI could actually DO things.
There’s elements of that idea in the not-very-good Terminator franchise film Terminator: Genisys but it still uses a more whizz-bang time travel machine.
Come to think of it, drones etc aren’t needed. The AI presumably could access bank accounts and send convincing emails to people. It could just pay people to do stuff for it, including pay people to build more advanced technology for it. It could even lodge patents or buy shares or invent social media platforms…
I assume this has been done before (in fiction that is, not in actuality) but I can’t think of an example.
The Countess Moggymotheaten of the House of Moggymotheaten surveyed her surroundings on her palatial spaceship.
“F-ck, f-ck, f-ck,” she said using her customary choice of vocabulary.
“Would…” asked her lawyer and occasional ex-lover Buggles Tinternabbeygiftshop, “…you like to me to…take care of this unfortunate incident for you?”
“Of course I want you to f_cking, f-ck take f_cking, f-ck, f-ck care of f_cking it. F_ck” said the Countess.
Then for good measure she repeated the word “F_ck” sixty seven more times at varying distances from Buggles Tinternabbeygiftshop’s face.
Across the Interminabledependnecy a thousand human habitations drifted through a pithy and not wholly irrelevant info dump that, with a few asides, discussed much of both the history and the underlying physics of the setting of this novel.
True, most of the population of the Interminabledependnecy already knew this, having sat through (as a largely un-talkative population) the first novel of this series and beside which they had all presumably gone to school or something, although the exact details of how these people lived is beside the point as we’ll largely be looking at the lives of particularly sweary aristocrats for several more chapters.
The Emperatrix Betty Niceperson considered her options which despite the massive power of her position was highly limited. Not naturally being a sweary aristocrat left Betty Niceperson at a distinct disadvantage when negotiating with the powerful families of Interminabledependnecy. She simply did not know how to say “F_ck” with sufficient vehemence to make herself understood. She had experimented with saying “gosh darn it” but it hadn’t had the same effect.
Just then Buggles Tinternabbeygiftshop arrived with his customary vague threat from the Countess Moggymotheaten.
“I’m sorry,” explained the Emperatrix, “I’ve completely lost track of which person was my half-brother and which person was the Moggymotheaten scion I was supposed to marry and which one was trying to murder me.”
“The simple answer,” explained Buggles, “Is they are in fact all exactly the same person with different names. It’s a technical term we call SRAMP.”
“SRAMP” said Brunomars Nicechap, the Emperatrix’s pet physicist from the first book.
“Some rich arsehole merchant prince,” explained Buggles acronymically.
“I see,” said Betty,” but how does that help with the imminent collapse of the Empire?”
“It doesn’t,” explained Buggles, “I just accidentally wandered in from the earlier chapter.
“F_cccckkkkkk” continued the Countess Moggymotheaten for at least another few paragraphs.
Brunomars Nicechap stood in front of the crowd of angry looking space geologists.
“Please,” he pleaded, “you have to believe me that the whole Interminabledependnecy is going to collapse!”
“Of course we believe you,” said the scientists, “your math checks out and anyway the whole thing started to collapse in the last book. We aren’t idiots.”
“But, but, we’ve a whole chapter to fill with you guys not believing me.” said Brunomars Nicechap.
“Maybe we could just all sit here and check our emails instead?” suggested the scientists.
Which is what they did.
“F_cccckkkkkk” continued the Countess Moggymotheaten for at least another few chapters.
“What was I doing again?” asked Buggles Tinternabbeygiftshop of the Emperatrix.
“I think you were still supposed to be in chapter 1 getting orders from the Countess Moggymotheaten.” suggested Betty as nicely as possible.
“There’s not much point, she’ll be swearing for another six chapters at least.” said Buggles.
“Well we could have sex instead?” suggested Betty.
“Only if it is perfunctory and somewhat unerotic,” suggested Buggles.
“F_ck,” said the Emperatrix.
Then the Interminabledependnecy collapsed.
“F_ck” said everybody.
“That’s not how you write a novel,” said Jonathon Franzen.
“F_ck off, Jonathon Franzen,” said the Countess Moggymotheaten who then crashed a spaceship into the sun.
Jonathon is a famous novelist and he has written me a long letter which I won’t quote because it goes on a bit. It seems he has decided to copy my writing advice style and produced a list of “10 rules” for novelists. Now everybody is laughing at him and he is sad. He’d like to know if I could suggest 10 different rules that would save him from mockery?
Absolutely Jono! Only too happy to help a struggling novelist out!
- Ensure your primary narrator is comfortable. Remember the novel is an aural medium and your narrator should have a comfy nest of uprooted plants to stand or lie down on.
- Pay attention to the little things: how did the t-rex get drunk? What kind of tree is she trying to climb?
- Your secondary narrator shouldn’t be too colourful a character as this can distract from your tertiary narrator or the triceratops that is recovering from having a t-rex fall on her.
- Use sentences or sentence fragments or isolated words or phrases or grunting noises.
- Don’t use gestures to get your point across. OK maybe that works for humans but classic triceratopian literature never uses gestures and you really can’t argue with a literary form with that kind of longevity.
- Avoid mammals. Not just in your novels but in life in general. At worst they’ll eat your eggs and at best they get underfoot.
- Don’t use “then” as a conjunction. Instead use a strong twine made out of twisted strips of bark.
- Setting fires to things can be fun but be careful you don’t cause a stampede or burn down the whole savannah.
- Your t-rex doesn’t need much motivation or character development. They are blundering drunken fools the lot of them.
- There’s nothing wrong with standing in the rain shouting your novel at a thundering sky, defying the lightning to strike you down as you declaim your truth to the heavens but don’t do this while holding an umbrella like my friends cat did that one time. On the other hand a cat highly charged with static electricity makes for an excellent if bad tempered duster.