From Spacecraft to Starship

I have to admit, I nicked that great title about Voyager 1 from this Washington Post article. It was just too cool and evocative to not nick.

But as a great fan of the workhorse technology of the Early Space Age that just keeps going and going and going, I was always going to do a quick post to celebrate that on this day,  35 years ago, way way back in 1977, Voyager 1 was launched. In a sequence that often confuses peoples, and mucks up careless sources, it's sister probe Voyager 2 blasted off first, a month earlier in August 1977, but because Voyager 1 was launched along a shorter and faster trajectory, it all sorted itself out in the great beyond and Voyager 1 actually reached Jupiter and Saturn first. Timing is everything.

After an impressive reconnaissance of Jupiter, Saturn and its moon Titan, Voyager 1 whizzed on ever outwards, passing Pioneers 10 and 11 to become the most distant man-made object from Earth. Voyager 2 is trailing its sister probe, and against all odds, both Voyagers continue to happily chug along, enjoying the stellar sights, and gathering and dutifully sending information back to their distant creators with their archaic, but still functioning, instruments:

Each only has 68 kilobytes of computer memory. To put that in perspective, the smallest iPod — an 8-gigabyte iPod Nano — is 100,000 times more powerful. Each also has an eight-track tape recorder. Today’s spacecraft use digital memory.

Primitive they may be by today's standards, but like the admirable Martian rovers that just kept on giving and giving, the two Voyagers have exceeded all expectations by keeping it together and steadily approaching the end of our solar system. Scientists predict that any time now, Voyager 1 will break through the hot turbulence at the edge of our solar system's heliosphere and sail on into the (perhaps) relatively cool calmness of interstellar space beyond.

So, yes, Voyager 1 will become a starship. What a promotion!

Ah, they built 'em tough in the old days. There's a lot to be said for screwdrivers and simplicity. I like my space technology to be rugged and robust and repairable. That way, when we finally do head on outwards, we'll be able to jump start engines, weld together emergency parts from scrap metal, and fix malfunctioning computers with a swift kick rather than having to find the nearest spaceship outlet selling slick, disposable, slot-in units with a limited warranty. 
 

Aw, That's Nice.

The place where Curiosity landed a few weeks ago shall henceforth been known as Bradbury's Landing. Here's the NASA link. And here's a picture of Ray's piece of prime Martian real estate (if we ever do get there, you can bet it'll cost a pretty penny to snag a plot in this nostalgic neighbourhood):

-

How cool is that? I love the tracks leading away from the landing spot as Curiosity sets forth on its journey of exploration. Anyway, according to NASA:

This was not a difficult choice for the science team,” said Michael Meyer, NASA program scientist for Curiosity. “Many of us and millions of other readers were inspired in our lives by the stories Ray Bradbury wrote to dream of the  possibility of life on Mars.”

I love those guys and gals at NASA. If think that if I had my time over, I'd be a rocket scientist, building cute rovers and tinkering with deep space probes and hanging out at bars frequented by adventurous geeks and noble nerds who passionately believe space really is the final frontier. And a writer too, of course.

And apropos Ray, I had a Martian Chronicles moment the other day on the train platform. I was holding my closed-but-not-yet-strapped-shut-umbrella in a certain way and, suddenly flashbacking, it seemed to look a lot like a certain weapon in a certain mini series, and I felt like aiming the tip at the people on the opposite platform and making spacey shooting noises. But that would have been undignified for a lady of my age (the under tens have all the fun).

Hmm, seeing this photo, the connection seems a tad tenuous now. Maybe you had to be there, a bit bored and unenthusiastic about the day ahead, desperate for excitement and looking at it from a certain angle...

 



Possible Argument in Favour of a Zombie Apocalypse

After hissing or shouting "shush up for crickey's, bloomin' sake !!!!!!" at the screen last night for the umpteenth time while watching the second season of The Walking Dead, it occurred to me that really, scriptwriters' conveniently placed boltholes aside, only quiet people with organising skills and impetus control would survive a zombie apocalypse. Then, evolution being what it is, surely after a few generations of weeding out the screamers, moaners, drama queens, arguing-for-the-sake-of-arguing arguers, cupboard shakers, fumble-fingered looters and trigger-happy shooters, the human race would be a lot less shoutey, more emotionally disciplined, more graceful of movement and prone to actually plan ahead. And did I mention less shoutey?

Alas, my Darwinian theory soon begins to fall apart like the proverbial rotting carcass when I factor in that the people with the most and/or biggest guns would also have a significant advantage. Once in power, such folk usually like to wave their weapons around a lot. And shout a lot. Same old same old. So, there goes that paradigm of possible paradisaical peace and quiet populated by shuffling corpses already.

Back from the Dead

Cleaning up old anthology links, on a whim I clicked onto one that I'd long ago consigned to the great crypt of dead publication projects located at the back of the expansive cemetery of ambitious intentions that never got off the ground, and discovered that apparently there's still life in the concept.

This is good news, because if it goes ahead, this anthology will include two flash fiction stories by me (a 500 worder and a 1000 worder) that were accepted back in December 2010 (aaah, those were the days!) just after I'd decided to have a serious go at being professional about getting my short stories out and about. Ever optimistic, I had them listed as 'forthcoming' for about 18 months before I decided to remove them until I had real evidence that the publication was actually going to happen, and as said, I'd pretty much given up on it and moved on. If this collection does see print, it'll be great - flash fiction doesn't get much respect, and an anthology like this might help to showcase that micro fiction isn't all obtuse shortcuts and airy-fairy wankery. You can tell a layered tale in under a thousand words. I'm not sure why some people so vehemently contest that. They have a right to their personal preferences, of course. I'm just saying that like everything, there's good flash and bad flash. Some stories are born tiny and poignant rather than sprawling and analytical. That doesn't make them better or worse, just different.

Anyway, onwards into the day. I'm definitely going to fiddle around with some words today. And tonight - yay! - I'll start on season two of The Walking Dead. I love this series. It's a nice throwback to my favourite survivors-journeying-though-apocalyptic-landscapes-whilst-arguing-every-step-of-the-way television viewing of yore. Threads (it gutted me!), Survivors (the original 1970s series, thank you very much, devised by no less a stalwart of the genre than Terry Nation), and the 1981 version of Day of the Triffids (I was soooo in love with John Duttine!) all shaped my thinking, filled my imagination and haunted my dreams. Alien nasties invading our world, or homegrown viruses, nuclear holocaust or zombies, whatever - I love 'em! They all boil down to a band of people demonstrating why we humans thoroughly deserve to be wiped out by our own stupidity (it's not always our fault though - sometimes the [fill in the relevant cause] apocalypse does go on for a tad too long, the writers lose the plot, the characters get petty, and you start barracking for the agent of our destruction...), whilst presenting arguments that plead for a more clement view of our basic natures.

The Dragon Has Landed

Commercial space travel here we come?

SpaceX will officially begin deliveries to the ISS later this year, transitioning to Cargo Resupply Services (CRS) with legally binding contracts and penalties.

I'm firmly of the opinion that once there's money to be made in them there stars (asteroid mining anyone?) we'll start our outward expansion. What humankind as a whole won't do for the pure acquisition of knowledge and simply for the thrill of exploring unknown territories, they'll certainly do for a buck. And so it has ever been with new frontiers.

So, maybe it's time for me to get my CV up to scratch for that job on the Moon that I grew up thinking was a dead certainty.  Mind you, I envisioned myself wearing a purple wig and a fishnet spacesuit, and there were hostile aliens involved, but I was working on the Moon, dammit, and that's what counts!

Best-Laid Plans

Determined to have one last weekend pretending my health is fine before the whole hospital hoopla hits, I headed off to Melbourne for JD’s spec-fic workshop, where things went unexpectedly awry.

My original cunning plan: To use the workshop as an impetus to finish and polish a new story for the final session which would then knock the socks off everyone with its perfectly executed prose, sharp images, sublime dialogue, complete control over characters, wondrous world-building and multi-layered political-fantasy plot – all this, and a dragon too!

What happened: In an impromptu rejig of the schedule, everyone got to read the first, unfinished draft that I submitted at the second session two months ago (to show that I wasn’t cheating and was actually working on something). It was basically a clunky foray into the raw landscape of an idea, and most of it has been deleted, shuffled about or rewritten since then. *sigh* I’ve never ever shown such an undeveloped story to anyone before. I’m thoroughly hardened to people critiquing a finished piece, truly, but to have a whole room full of people eyeing off one's fits and starts and dead ends was just plain embarrassing.  

Of course, in the greater scheme of things, my sensitive writerly ego barely rates a mention. I was actually a bit down on the train trip home. With everyone making plans for the final workshop and arrangements for going out drinks and a meal afterwards, and all the talk of Natcon panels and guests, it suddenly hit me that I really am going to miss out on a great big chunk of life soon. Exciting and interesting things will be happening in the world beyond, but I won’t be able to participate. I have to get used to the thought that for the time being, plans are for other people.

But not to worry - I will get used to the thought. And I will get through it all. And I plan to watch every HBO series and sci-fi box set in the known universe as I do so.

Almost Human

As much as I hate kowtowing to reality, I had to accept yesterday that a week’s recovery probably means a week, or at the very least more than 3 days, and so I’ve deferred my commuting and Arvo Job schedule until tomorrow. Today I hope at the very least to string together a few ideas and do some meaningful writing, as well as go for a long walk during which I plan to inhale copious amounts of invigorating country air. Naps will be only be taken on an absolutely-need-to-nod-off basis, and schlepping around dozily wondering what to do next will be severely curtailed. I’m going to try for a normalish day.

On the upside, I’ve had time to catch up on a few Internet stories, including the ongoing adventures of Commander Camilla Corona SDO, the inspiring US Astrochicken who recently headed up an extremely dangerous NASA mission.

In her own words:

"I flew into one of the strongest proton storms in years. The source of the radiation was sunspot AR1429, which unleashed more than 50 solar flares during the first two weeks of March. At the peak of the storm charged particles hitting Earth's upper atmosphere deposited enough heat in only three days to power every residence in New York City for two years. It was pretty intense. Earth-orbiting satellites reported proton counts ~30,000 times normal," she said.

If you don't know her, Camilla is a true Renaissance rubber chicken. Not only is she NASA’s Solar Dynamic’s Observatory’s mascot, but being a type A rubber chicken, she spreads her enthusiasm for all things spacey by visiting classrooms, science fairs, festivals and exhibits to teach about the Sun, space weather and space exploration. Recently, prior to her latest mission, she trained (and hung out) with Russian cosmonauts in Star City, and posted about the experience on her blog. Not a prude, she freely recounts her recent run-ins with space station toilets and explains the whole business of going about your business when off planet. She tweets, and is on Facebook, Google+ and other social media, and tirelessly spreads the inspirational messages that science is cool, that science is for everyone, that space is the biggest adventure of all, and, very importantly, that space adventures are for girls too. She does all this while providing historical information about past space missions, slipping in a spot of gossip about astronauts, giving updates on NASA’s present work, and posting photos of the wonders of the universe. The world could definitely do with a few more rubber chickens like Camilla.

But not only is Camilla intelligent, brave, gregarious and media savvy, as an everygeek’s rubber chicken, she’s not averse to pop culture. After her Star City training, and an international meeting in Helsinki, our jet-setting Commander Corona stopped over in London to attend a Dr Who exhibition and investigate the Dalek phenomenon.


Ah, if only my life were as glamorous and exciting and useful as this rubber chicken’s.

Catch them while they're young.

The optimum age for getting kids hooked on SF seems to be 12. But what catches their imagination then? John deNando speaks in favour of "The Heinlein Juveniles" here: http://www.kirkusreviews.com/blog/young-adult/kids-space-part-1/

I concur. Whatever reservations one might have about Robert Heinlein later in life, I know I devoured his adventurous space tomes when I was younger.

* My favourites were 'Tunnel in the Sky' (I think I read it about 10 times) and 'The Star Beast' . In fact, I still have a tattered copy of the latter, and every now and then I revisit Lummox and remember how thoroughly enchanted I was by her as a kid (and still am), and how much I wished I had a gigantic Lummox of my very own in the back yard.

Hyggemad

I've been out for most of this superbly sunny day - shopping, movie (please, don't ask) Bunnings, talking, arvo tea with the cats in the backyard - and now I'm in the middle of hitting the domestic stuff hard (washing, cleaning, cooking up a giant pot of lentil soup for freezing down) so that tomorrow is totally clear for writerly deeds.

I plan to reward myself for these labours in a few hours with Saturday Night Klatkager (you can Youtube an amiable bloke whipping up a batch of this utterly delicious Danish hyggemad (usually translated as comfort food, even though you don't necessarily enjoy it because you're sad. I think of it more as cosy food.) here - is there anything one can't YouTube these days? - though of course the recipes will differ slightly from family to family and across the generations e.g. I use olive oil, which might make purists recoil in horror)*** and a couple of episodes of Stargate Universe, though I'm not sure the word 'reward' applies to the latter. I'm 5 episodes in and the characters still make me grit my teeth. I want horrible things to happen to a few of them. However, I'll bravely forge onwards because I've been informed by a reasonably reliable source (brother) that it all gets better from this point on.

And as an afterthought, I'll tell you what klatkager used to go with so perfectly you'd think the recipe had been invented for them - Xena:Warrior Princess, and before that, Hercules. Ah, those were the days.

*** Sorry - I hope it isn't too hard to sort out all those parentheses. I'd go back and edit, but, as mentioned, I have other stuff to do.

Saturday morning SF

Once again playing the if-I-had-unlimited-funds-with-which-to-indulge-my-slightest-whims game sees me getting ready to hop into my Lear Jet next week and zoom across the world to catch an upcoming exhibition at the British Library which presents the history of SF down the ages.

You can see a few of the goodies on display here. See - even Kipling wrote SF! (There's also a link on the side to a China Mielville interview in which he waxes lyrical about genre writing.)

The exhibition includes True History by Lucian of Samosata, possibly the first ever science fiction story. It dates from the 2nd century AD. (This is a 17th-century Dutch edition.)

True History is about a war to rule the Morning Star by the kings of the Moon and the Sun. It includes dog-faced men fighting on winged acorns, cloud-centaurs and stalk-and-mushroom men. What more could you want from a story?

Brain teaser

My brain is all revved up and ready to go. Poor brain. It hasn't realised yet that the holidays are over. I'll let it out now for a bit of a run, which is cruel really, because I'm going to have to hobble it soon so it doesn't go wandering off while I'm at the Arvo Job.

The cats are settling down for a writing day too :(

Anyway, I'll contrast those glum observations with some good news that I found on the Internet just now: the Kenyan science fiction film Pumzi, directed by Wanuri Kahiu, is now available. I saw this film at Worldcon last year, and have been raving about it to folk ever since.

You can buy it here

More Monsters

Everything that Skyline wasn't, thank goodness.

Not Sci-Fi

I was sooo looking forward to this week’s Thursday night movie, as I do any upcoming SF film, but I’ve now filed it in the ‘time-I’ll-never-get-back’ folder of life. This is the kind of movie that some people will use as ammunition when they bag SF.

Whilst watching this awfulness, most of my thoughts fell into these categories:

1-A plot would have been good.
2-Internal logic would have been good.
3-There’s a reason these movies usually have a scientist or a journo or soldier as the main protagonist. A few brain cells and/or the ability to decide on a course of action makes the journey much more bearable for the audience.
4-Where are my Independance Day / War of the Worlds (original version) / Matrix DVDs? I need to watch them again to sluice all these ripped-off scenes from my head.
5-Bring back Ripley, pleeeeease! Female characters don’t all have to be Amazons, but they certainly shouldn’t ALL be unreasonable, hysterical, sooky wife and/or slut stereotypes constantly spouting ‘I-told-you-so’ and throwing tantrums when the blokes don’t take care of an alien invasion, like right now!

The ending is brain bogglingly stupid, but we did enjoy tearing apart on the way home afterwards. Maybe that makes it a 'so-bad-it's-good' film. Basically, as far as I'm concerned, the trailer was better.

For maximum viewing pleasure, you should approach this movie not as a science fiction film, but as a screamer flick, with psycho aliens instead of a chainsaw wielding nutter mindlessly cutting a swathe through a flock of annoying, clueless adolescent caricatures. That way, you’ll probably enjoy it more than I did.

Worldcon: A Really Rapid Roundup

So many people are blogging about AussieCon4, and most of them are insiders with far better photos of the behind the scenes happenings and major events, far more intimate meetings with interesting people to tell about, and certainly a higher grade of gossip than me, so I’m just going to do a ramshackle rundown of a few everyday things that happened to me, amused me, or in some way caught my inconsequential attention. There will be much gratuitous name dropping as well.

1) The funny film montage shown at the opening ceremony. Cutting back and forth between Aussie films and SF classics, it gave us, among other things, Sarah Connor watching Mad Max blow up Kenny’s poo truck and the Terminator emerging from the flames, Storm Troopers shooting down Ned Kelly, hobbits hiding from the Wolf Creek psycho, David Gulpilil watching X-wings bomb Darwin, and Crocodile Dundee doing his call-that-a-knife shtick to Darth Vader. By popular demand, the montage was shown again at the closing ceremony.

2) The Write the Fight workshop was fun because we got to get up for a change and jump around and pretend to hit each other. Predictably, there were a few guys, some in berets, who were eager to impress Alan Baxter by expounding their knowledge of commando techniques for quickly killing people or by trying to grab his leg when he was demonstrating kicks, but he very deftly and graciously deflected their attempts at hogging the limelight.

3) I enjoyed any session or panel with Kim Stanley Robinson in it. The man is brilliant, funny, compassionate, optimistic about the future, ideological, and just plain lovely. He got top points from me for continually referring to Economics as a pseudoscience, and belittling it as the astrology of our times.

4) While standing in a long line waiting for the above mentioned Kim Stanley Robinson to sign my Blue Mars, I got to chat and joke with folk from Finland, the UK and Western Australia. We felt sorry for poor KSR, but not sorry enough to remove ourselves from the queue, and explored the possibility of just asking him to simply spit on the title pages of our books. It got a bit gross. I suppose you had to be there.

5) The later people arrived for a session, the closer to the front they wanted to sit, and then preferably right in the middle so that half a row of settled folk had to get up to let them past.

6) I recall suffering through a dark, bleak, very weird, Brazilian SF film and groaning with the rest of the audience at the end when it turned out to have no point whatsoever. It was like a parody of an art house movie, and yet it wasn’t. The comments from the audience made it worth the agony. It was a real bonding experience, but the memory of that film still makes me shudder.

7) I got a bag of lollies from Twelfth Planet Press when I bought a book. I love freebies and personal touches.

8) Coffee with Kaaron Warren. I signed up for my first kaffeeklatch as a tentative exercise in practicing my convention socializing skills and overcoming public shyness, thinking there would be no pressure to perform because I could hide amongst the other 8 participants. Shock, horror, I was the only participant. Amazingly, I remained calm. Fortunately, I didn’t babble. I wasn’t brilliant, but I didn’t babble. Happily, Laura E Goodin and a few other writerly folk and their friends and family joined us, so I got lean back and listen to how the other half lives (you know, how it is when your stuff gets published a lot and editors actually invite you to submit stuff) and I even occasionally butted in. The only fudge was when Kaaron kindly asked me if I was a writer and I went into my default, dismissive waffly mode. The highlight of the klatsch was when Kaaron suddenly jumped up because she had spotted Robert Silverberg , sprinted across the room for an autograph and a fangirl chat, then returned with stories of his niceness.

8) Peter M Ball signed my copy of Bleed. I tried to ever so casually mention that we shared the TOC of Moonlight Tuber #1, but my brain inexplicably latched onto Midnight Echo, so I babbled something about Midlight Mumble Mumble instead. Peter was a real gentleman and very gracious about it.


9) Have I mentioned the Build a Lego Dalek workshop? It was fun.






10) I got a big hug from Sue Bursztynski, and she shared the news that her book Wolfborn has been picked up by a publisher and will be out in December. Go Sue!

11) Coffee with Catherynne M. Valente, during which I did not mumble or babble, said a few relevant things, and scored a treasure.

12) Coffee with George R.R. Martin (I just can’t repeat that often enough) during which I also said a few coherent words. See, practice pays.

13) On the last day, I was much amused by a panel with Greg Benford, Alistair Reynolds and Charles Stross during which many science jokes were made about centrifugal forces, teleportation, FTL ships and stasis fields, and the audience laughed in all the right places. I love SF people!

There’s more, but that’s enough. I’ve got some more sleeping to do.

Mind Games

I love a good heist movie. I love SF. So when someone like Christopher Nolan (The Prestige, Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, all films that I love) takes the standard script of the heist genre, namely a team of experts (in this case, the Architect, the Chemist, the Forger etc) orchestrating a multi-leveled deception, and then throws in the brainy science fiction concept of entering dreams and manipulating them to steal information, well, for me that’s just hog heaven Phillip K. Dick style.

My alley runneth over

Jason Fischer has posted this over on his blog:

Issue #6 of the Australian Horror Writers Association’s magazine Midnight Echo will be edited by David Conyers, Jason Fischer and David Kernot, and the theme will be science fiction horror. Why? Well we just don’t believe there is enough science fiction published in Australia , and dark science fiction is even better.

Cross genre SF/horror? This too (like the Coeur de Lion anthology) is right up my alley. I might finally get a story into ME...

SF Scoop!

Exciting news, scifi scribblers - Coeur de Lion, publisher of the much recommended anthology X6, is now doing a science fiction anthology. It's right up my alley - deep space, alien worlds, strange civilizations, and best of all, the maximum word length is 15k. Finally a place to send off those longish pieces like the space faring sea creatures story, and the whirlpool story, and maybe ... no, that takes place on Earth, but then there's ...

Hmmm, I wonder if they accept multiple submissions.

'Anywhere But Earth' will be edited by Keith Stevenson.