Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[February 12, 1969] Slick stuff (March 1969 Galaxy science fiction)

February 12, 2024 Gideon Marcus 3 Comments

by Gideon Marcus

The Bad Kind

For 12 days, 21,000 gallons a day of crude oil spilled into the Pacific ocean off the coast of Santa Barbara. Only on February 8 was the leaking undersea well finally capped. This debacle, courtesy of the Union Oil Co., has blackened the harbors and beaches of the San Gabriel Valley coastline, killing hundreds of sea birds. Even Governor Reagan is declaring this mess a disaster, making federal funds available for cleanup.

Nevertheless, the Governor did not relieve the oil company of its obligation to the government agencies and private citizens harmed by this catastrophe. It will likely take more than 1000 men three weeks to clean up the mess.

The silver lining is that only about 1% of the local seabird population has been affected, and virtually none of the seals. Indeed, the damage is only about a quarter of that caused two years ago when the super tanker Torrey Canyon broke up off the coast of Southwest England.

Still, if the best we can say is that this crisis is not as bad as the worst, I think we can do better.

The Good Kind

In refreshing contrast to the environmental incident described above, the latest issue of Galaxy is anything but a tragedy:

by Douglas Chaffee illustrating The Weather on Welladay

And Now They Wake (Part 1 of 3), by Keith Laumer

In 1981, just as broadcast power switches on for the first time, an inmate by the name of Grayle makes a daring escape from a New York prison. He is an enigmatic man, an inmate who looks 35, but who has been incarcerated since before World War 2. He also possesses an uncanny ability to heal from wounds.

At the same time, another fellow with similar powers stumbles drunk out of a bar, making his way to a steam room where he miraculously heals a profound set of scars and ejects an antique Minie ball from a wound in his back.

These events are coincident with the appearance of a tremendous water spout in the middle of the Atlantic, and interwoven with tales from a thousand years ago of a renegade from the Galactic Fleet named Thor, and his comrade-turned-betrayer, Loki.

by Jack Gaughan

Who are these two immortals, and why has their story suddenly come to a head? I don't know…but I'm hooked!

Four stars, so far.

The City That Loves You, by Raymond E. Banks

The Alpha Centauri city of Relax offers everything to its twenty million inhabitants—comfort, company, computerized guidance. But what happens when a citizen wants to leave? What if every inducement, soft and hard, is made to keep him there? Does the fellow really have a choice in the matter?

I read the whole story waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I was not displeased with the result. In the end, for a place to truly be paradise, there must be a way out. The socialiast utopias of the world, from Bulgaria to Beit Ha Shita, might take note.

Four stars.

Leviathan, by Lise Braun

An advanced submarine, akin to the Seaview from Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea rescues a primitive fisherman lost at sea in the Atlantic Ocean. This inadvertently gives rise to a number of familiar legends.

This is an old-fashioned story; it would have been right at home in Imagination in 1954. I do like the clever, organic way Braun conveys that the action takes place thousands of years in the past, and the reading is pleasant, if not extraordinary.

Three stars.

The Weather on Welladay, by Anne McCaffrey

by Reese

The sodden, storm-lashed world of Welladay seems too bleak a world for settlement. However, schools of whales that inhabit it produce a valuable radioactive substance prized for medical applications. A team of hardy fishermen taps these whales for their lymphic treasure, braving the waves and weather.

But some pirate has been draining the whales dry, decimating the population and threatening the economy and health of the Federation. Is it one of the four fishers? The mysterious woman space pilot shot down at the beginning of the tale, who crashes on a lonely archipelago? Or someone else?

This is definitely one of McCaffrey's better stories, with far more atmosphere (no pun intended) and far less barely suppressed violence and hokey romance. It goes on a little long, and I find it improbable that this vast planet seems to have exactly six people on it, but I enjoyed it.

Three stars.

For Your Information: Collision Course, by Willy Ley

Mr. Ley's piece this month is on asteroids that cross Earth orbit, particularly Icarus, which precipitated the 49th end-of-the-world scare since the birth of Christ.

Interesting and useful, though rather brief.

Three stars.

The Last Flight of Dr. Ain, by James Tiptree, Jr.

A sick scientist and his dying love make a multi-stop air flight around the world. At each landing, he makes sure to expose as many people as possible to what appears to be an aerosol for cold symptoms, and he feeds bread crumbs to migratory birds. As the story unfolds, told mostly in third-party reports, we learn the scientist was working on a deadly disease, and that he thinks of humanity as a blight on the Earth.

There's no subtext to the story—it's all on the surface—but it's beautifully told and very eerie. I liked it; my favorite from Mr. Tiptree so far. Four stars.

The Theory and Practice of Teleportation , by Larry Niven

Adapted from a lecture Niven gave at Boskone in front of the MIT Science Fiction Society, this is an interesting look at the effects of teleportation, in all its potential developmental paths, on society.

Four stars.

Greeks Bringing Knee-High Gifts, by Brian W. Aldiss

A darkly humorous story set in the near future, satirizing the world of executives. They all hate each other but are not allowed to express it or complain, so they do things that they can claim are generous as an act of passive aggression.

For instance, one gifts another with a genetically tailored midget Tyrannosaurus…which promptly eats the recipient's leg. Said giftee then names the dinosaur after the giftor's coquettish wife and turns up at the giftor's funeral with the creature to terrorise people, but in doing so claims it is a lovely tribute.

Rather obtuse and pointless. I didn't like it.

One star.

(with thanks to Kris for co-writing this review-let).

Godel Numbers, by J. W. Swanson

by Jack Gaughan

200 miles west of Cairo, archaeologists have dug up what they're calling the "Cairo Stone". It is a black tablet, obviously artificial, clearly advanced, and meticulously carved with a series of scratch marks. Dated to 3000 B.C., it could not have been made by a contemporary terrestrial civilization. It's up to three scientists, a melange of linguists and computer engineers, both to crack the code of the tablets and to fend off Soviet agents.

In the end, the tablet serves much the same purpose as the monolith(s) in 2001, jump-starting humanity's progress. It's an amiable, old-fashioned sort of tale, and so esoteric that it probably would have done well, if not better, in Analog.

Three stars.

Cleaning up

All in all, the latest Galaxy makes for pleasant, if not outstanding, reading. I would certainly much rather read about Godel numbers, teleportation, immortals, and isotopic pirates than oil slicks any day!

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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[February 10, 1969] Beam Me Up! (Doctor Who: The Seeds Of Death [Parts 1-3])

February 10, 2024 Jessica Holmes 1 Comment

By Jessica Holmes

It’s not every day that you come across a title equally applicable to a Doctor Who serial and a PSA about the dangers of cannabis, but look what we have here: "The Seeds Of Death". With Brian Hayles back in the writer’s chair and a return to the base-under-siege format, do we have a good story sprouting, or a dud?

Let’s take a look.

In Case You Missed It

"The Seeds Of Death" is set in Earth’s future, where technology has progressed to the stage that humanity can transport themselves and their goods around the world in the blink of an eye. The system’s called T-Mat. Think, ‘Beam me up, Scotty!’ (Before the Trekkies get me, let me state for the record that I am fully aware that nobody ever actually says that.) Essential to the operation is their moon-base, which itself can only be reached by T-Mat, because humanity in its wisdom has abandoned conventional space travel. Gee, wouldn’t it be awful if something were to happen to it?

Say, for example…an alien invasion?

Enter the Doctor. Arriving on Earth in a museum dedicated to the history of space travel, he soon runs into its curator, Professor Eldred (Philip Ray). Eldred, an ex-rocket scientist, is less than friendly at first, but warms up once the Doctor unleashes his inner dorkness. It really is endearing.

Meanwhile at the T-Mat London base, T-Mat operators Commander Radnor (Ronald Leigh-Hunt) and Gia Kelly (Louise Pajo) grow uneasy about their sudden inability to contact the moon-base and the interruption in service. If they want to check up on their moon-bound colleagues, they’re going to have to find alternative transport. But in a world where traditional space travel is obsolete, where might they find a rocket ship?

Why, a museum of course.

The pair visit Eldred’s museum, and get a bit of an icy reception. There’s no love lost between ex-colleagues Eldred and Radnor. Eldred is understandably a bit miffed about his life’s work being rendered obsolete, and therefore refuses to help Radnor with his T-Mat troubles.

However, at that moment a transmission arrives from the Moon. The technicians attempt to tell their colleagues what’s happened, but they’re caught red-handed by their captors, the Ice Warriors, and cut off. Of the three still-living technicians on the base, one is killed on the spot, another flees, and the third agrees to help the Ice Warriors to save his own skin.

Not knowing the full details but realising that something is very wrong, the Doctor attempts to persuade Eldred to allow Radnor and Kelly to make use of his prize exhibit: an (almost) functioning rocket ship. Radnor offers whatever resources are necessary to get it space-worthy, but Eldred is still reluctant to help.

As for the obvious question, why not take the TARDIS? The Doctor doesn’t exactly have a good track record on piloting it. He’d probably miss the moon by a million miles—or a million years. However, he knows enough about rocket ships that he could pilot one to the moon, and his friends could help. Radnor and Kelly are understandably concerned about their would-be astronauts. You’ve got the bloke who looks like he just walked off the set of the Three Stooges, a teenage girl, and a man who seems to have only recently learned of the very existence of rocket ships.

It doesn’t inspire confidence.

And they don’t even have spacesuits for their amateur astronauts.

Or helmets.

Nevertheless, they get the rocket space-worthy (ish) extraordinarily quickly and the ship blasts off, almost immediately losing communications with Earth.

Extreme g-forces might not be comfortable, but they do result in very funny facial expressions.

Speaking of Earth, the Earth side of the emergency T-Mat link comes back online, though all they can do is send something to the Moon. Taking the hint (and failing to consider the potential dangers), Kelly immediately sends herself and a few extra men to lend help.

The Ice Warriors remain hidden, and their collaborator, Fewsham (Terry Scully), meets her when she arrives, telling her that his commander went mad and destroyed the T-Mat system. He needs her help to repair it, and of course she’s only too happy to oblige.

Meanwhile the escapee, Phipps (Christopher Coll), rigs up a radio transmitter and tries to contact Earth again, instead finding the Doctor, and he’s able to help guide him into landing the rocket as he explains to him about the invasion.

Kelly soon gets T-Mat back up and running, learning too late that she’s just played straight into the hands (claws?) of the Ice Warriors, who immediately kill her assistants. Unable to T-Mat herself back to Earth, she flees into the bowels of the moon-base.

The Doctor meets up with Phipps, and quickly comes to the conclusion that in order to stop this invasion going any further, he has to put T-Mat out of action permanently.

He tells Jamie as much, and to get the rocket ready for takeoff. Unfortunately the rocket motors– I’m sorry, motors? I thought rockets didn’t have motors. It’s essentially a tube sitting on top of an explosion. They’re simultaneously very simple and hideously complicated.

Anyway. The rocket motors are out of commission. Jamie and Zoe go to look for the Doctor, and instead find Phipps and Kelly. Phipps shows Jamie, Zoe and Kelly his method for dealing with any Ice Warriors who come across him: a heat-trap, channelling the base’s solar power to a small area to effectively melt them.

As for the Doctor, he infiltrates the Ice Warriors by using the tried and true method of acting so completely pathetic that even a Dalek would probably offer him a blanket and a nice cup of tea.

He learns that the Ice Warriors have a purpose in mind with the T-Mat. They need to use it to send something around the world. Seeds. Exploding seeds. Seeds…of death! (Insert thunderclap here.)

One blows up in the Doctor’s face as he tries to examine it, knocking him unconscious.

And then the Ice Warriors send a seed to London…

Incuriosity and Obsolescence

So, there’s a pretty obvious theme emerging in this serial: obsolescence of old technology, and the dangers of new technology making us complacent.

Though the T-Mat system is undoubtedly more efficient than any conventional means of transportation, in entirely abandoning old methods, humanity has rendered global infrastructure frighteningly fragile. Planes, trains and automobiles? No thanks, say the people of future Earth. Never has it been easier to get medical supplies and food aid where it’s most needed, but with the T-Mat system down, millions are now at risk of death. And by the end of the serial it appears to have only been out of action for a day or two at the most. How much longer can society hold itself together?

Humanity in this serial is perilously short-sighted. It shows in their approach to global infrastructure, and it also shows in their attitude to the concept of space travel and exploration. Radnor and Kelly respect Eldred’s work in the field of space travel, but as a stepping stone to the creation of T-Mat, rather than for its own sake. In viewing the current T-Mat system as the endpoint of all advancements in transportation, they’re missing the potential of combining rocket travel with T-Mat. Sure, rocket travel is comparatively slow and expensive, but you’d only need to go somewhere once to set up a T-Mat booth, then you’d be able to come and go as you pleased. The possibilities are limitless. Off-world colonisation? Easy peasy. No need to worry about the practicalities of getting building supplies and colonists to Pluto if you can just zap them there. Scientific exploration? You could pop over and collect some samples from Mars and be home in time for tea. Resources? There are many large, metallic asteroids in our Solar System. Set up shop there, with instant transportation of materials to and from Earth, and you’ve got a licence to print money. And maybe you can give Earth a break from having chunks gouged out of her, to boot.

These ideas are the product of a layperson giving the topic a good five minutes of thought. Smarter people could probably come up with more. By assuming our latest innovations are the furthest we can possibly go in a particular area, we close ourselves off to new opportunities.

This is the crux of the character conflict here. Radnor and Kelly see Eldred as old-fashioned, but if anything they’re more stuck in their ways. There is a sense of practicality to the point of troubling incuriosity in the pair of them. They have no interest in rocket travel beyond their immediate need. Will they rediscover their curiosity by the end of the serial, or will short-term thinking prove the end of space travel—and maybe even the human race?

Final Thoughts

I’m enjoying this serial so far. It’s a base-under-siege, but decent enough. It’s at least using the format to have an interesting discussion about the advantages and disadvantages of rapidly advancing technology. And I suppose it has been a while since we last had a serial in this format, so I can’t complain. The format wasn’t really the issue, just its overuse.

However, the story does also suffer from a couple of real problems. Too often does the plot slam to a halt for a character to explain what the audience could easily enough infer from the events on-screen. Stage setting is good, but not at the expense of the story.

He's behind you! Ice Warriors apparently can't turn their heads.

Also a pain is the blatant padding. There are more than a few scenes that go nowhere, which I struck from my summary because they really didn’t matter in terms of plot or character development. Scenes that are dull to watch are dull to write about, and there are unfortunately a few of those sprinkled throughout.

All that said, I’m mostly enjoying it. We’ve got some interesting characters (I’ll give you my full thoughts of them once the serial is over) and some cracking music to set the mood. With the action starting to pick up, I have high hopes for the latter half of this serial to be stronger than the beginning.

But we’ll have to wait and see.

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[February 8, 1969] So Much for That (March 1969 Amazing)

February 8, 2024 John Boston 3 Comments

by John Boston

Last issue, new editor Barry Malzberg declared that “the majority of modern magazine science-fiction is ill-written, ill-characterized, ill-conceived and so excruciatingly dull as to make me question the ability of the writers to stay awake during its composition,” and proposed to use Amazing and Fantastic to promote the “rebirth—one would rather call it transmutation—of the category.”

by Johnny Bruck

Now, in this March Amazing, Barry is gone. Sol Cohen, listed as Publisher last issue, is now Editor and Publisher. Laurence M. Janifer is listed as Associate Editor, and contributes a guest editorial and a movie review. Ted White, new to the masthead, is listed as Managing Editor. Most likely he will actually be editing the magazine, having been Assistant and then Associate Editor at Fantasy and Science Fiction until mid-1968.

But as a great philosopher said, you can predict anything but the future. What we have right now is the last issue of the Malzberg editorship, credited or not, which we know since the new stories are the ones he announced in the last issue.

So why his sudden departure? I had a conversation with Barry, and he reported that it had nothing to do with the direction he proposed for the magazine’s fiction or his jaundiced account of the state of the field. Rather, he bought a cover, which he understood he was authorized to do, and said he would quit if Cohen did not allow him to run it. Cohen responded, "I don't know anything about stories but I do know about art and I can't run this cover. [Pause] You're fired." Barry adds, on reflection, that Cohen was right, and there’s no resentment on his part.

But back to the issue before us. Overall, it’s business as usual: another tiresome cover by Johnny Bruck, four new short stories (mostly very short) and the conclusion of a new serialized novella, and three reprinted novelets. There is the usual "Science of Man" article by Leon E. Stover, and the usual book review column, credited as before to William Atheling, Jr., the not-at-all secret pseudonym of James Blish–though the review of The Making of Star Trek is bylined Blish (who is also the author of several Star Trek paperbacks). Janifer’s above-mentioned movie review is about Hot Millions, a scientific heist film in which Peter Ustinov, as an embezzler, goes up against a giant computer. (Before long, I am sure, there will need to be a name for such a villain. Computer . . . hijacker? Nah, too cumbersome.)

We All Died at Breakaway Station (Part 2 of 2), by Richard C. Meredith

Richard Meredith’s two-part serial novella, We All Died at Breakaway Station, concludes here. It may well be the most downbeat space opera ever published. Earth is at war with the Jillies. Protagonist Captain Absolom [sic] Bracer has been killed in battle and resurrected, and is now hideously disabled and disfigured and patched up with mechanical parts, since there are no replacements to allow him to return to Earth for more seemly regeneration. Also he is tormented by phantom pain from the missing parts, as well as the psychological impact of his mutilated condition. His fellow officers are all in similar shape.

by Dan Adkins

Bracer is charged with escorting a hospital ship full of other casualties back to Earth for better treatment. But he learns that the relief ships from Earth to Breakaway, a barren planet where the essential faster-than-light communications link to Earth is located, are days away from arriving. He decides to delay departure so he and his subordinates will be around to protect Breakaway from the expected Jillie attack. This set-up of course leads to a lot of slam-bang action, with continuing death, destruction, and angst (though a note of glee does creep in here and there), and then the probably obligatory tragic but uplifting ending.

The writing is amateurish in places but quite readable even as one is noting that Meredith is going on much too long about things that don’t advance the narrative, playing silly games with chapter divisions (there are 36 of these in 79 pages, one of which is four lines long), and writing dialogue some of which seems lifted from World War II B-movies. But there’s actually a story here, the author is clearly having a good time, and it’s infectious as long as you manage your expectations. Three stars.

The Invasion of the Giant Stupid Dinosaurs, by Thomas M. Disch

by Bruce Jones

Thomas M. Disch, whose career started in Amazing and Fantastic, makes his first appearance here of the Sol Cohen era. The Invasion of the Giant Stupid Dinosaurs is a short jokey First Contact story involving a spaceship landing on the property of a small town church. It is archly told in a fussily stilted style possibly meant to remind the reader of The War of the Worlds (though Wells was generally not arch, stilted, or fussy). It’s well turned, as always with Disch, but trivial. Three stars, mostly for style.

The Aggressor, by John T. Sladek

John T. Sladek’s The Aggressor is also short, highly surreal, and seemingly an exercise in dream logic or a satire on the very idea of a story. Or maybe—since the main character (loosely speaking) is the head of a large computer corporation—it’s supposed to be the output of a defective computer, or perhaps a very advanced one that is unexpectedly beginning to achieve consciousness. Sometimes Sladek’s humor escapes me entirely, and this is one of them. This dog is too damn shaggy! Two stars; at least the guy can write.

Prelude to Reconstruction, by Durant Imboden

Durant Imboden is an assistant fiction editor at Playboy, says the blurb to his story Prelude to Reconstruction, with one prior SF magazine appearance. The story is a slightly rambling farce about a future authoritarian USA in which the work is all done by robots, who are supervised by the Ministry of Slaves. The robots have to be kept in line lest they get funny ideas about slaving for humans; so Cerebra-1, a giant computer, is devised to monitor their loyalty quotients and reorient those needing it.

by Bruce Jones

But now Cerebra-1 is getting balky, spitting out ancient political slogans, and things only get worse fast for humans (and the story ceases to be so farcical). Problem is Imboden hasn’t quite caught on to “show, don’t tell,” so most of the story is the author recounting events after the fact without dialogue or even on-stage characters for stretches of it. There’s also very little background on exactly what the robots’ and Cerebra-1’s capabilities and limits are, so the analogy to American human slavery (which becomes explicit at the end) falls flat, and there’s not much to be interested in conceptually. Two stars.

In the Time of Disposal of Infants, by David R. Bunch

David R. Bunch, an avowed editorial favorite, is here again with In the Time of Disposal of Infants, listed among the new stories, but in fact new only to professional publication. It first appeared in the fanzine Inside #13 (January 1956) along with five other Bunch stories. It is much more sedate stylistically than his later work, but outrageous enough in content. The title says it; the story is narrated by a garbage collector whose team finds a four-year-old among the refuse—surprisingly, since if they last that long, the parents usually keep them. Three stars.

The Man in the Moon, by Mack Reynolds

The first of the acknowledged reprints is Mack Reynolds’s The Man in the Moon (from Amazing, July 1950) , a very early story (his eighth, appearing three months after the first). It amounts to a tutorial about early space flight, now thoroughly outmoded and a bit boring. Protagonist Jeff Stevens and two of his fellow trainee astronauts are bundled off to the Moon in separate ships; their voyage was preceded by some unsuccessful (i.e., fatal) tries, and by a number of unmanned ships carrying supplies and materials.

by Leo Summers

Only Stevens makes it, and he proceeds (despite a broken arm) to assemble several of the unmanned ships into a base. Human, as opposed to mechanical, interest is provided by the repeated reminders that Stevens is sensitive about being short, and by the fact that his sometime girlfriend left him for one of the other astronauts, who died on an earlier expedition. But it’s all right, because he finds that astronaut’s body where he expired in his spacesuit in the line of duty. “’Last Brenschluss, spaceman,’ he whispered.” Hackneyed, maudlin, two stars, generously.

Ask a Foolish Question, by Milton Lesser

Milton Lesser’s Ask a Foolish Question (Fantastic Adventures, June 1952) is a slickly rendered dystopian story. In this world, most people work long hours for low pay, living in barracks, in order to support the space colony Utopia, where, it is said, everybody lives a lot better. That’s OK, since the Earth dwellers regularly get the chance to take examinations to see if they can qualify to space out, and some win and depart.

by Tom Beechem

But Citizen Gregory Jones has been notified by the Department of Prognostication that he is to die in five days. After some plot maneuvers not worth recounting, he winds up killing a government employee, faking his own death a day early, and then impersonating the government man. But in that fake role, he is given the choice of dying when Jones would have died, or going to Utopia with the lucky exam-winners, since the government can’t allow anyone to stick around who knows that a prognostication didn’t occur on schedule. Of course, he chooses Utopia, and the next events show that Lesser has clearly taken note of The Marching Morons. And there's another twist before the end. Derivative but well turned; three stars.

Death of a Spaceman, by Walter M. Miller, Jr.

In Walter M. Miller, Jr.’s Death of a Spaceman (Amazing, March 1954), Old Donegal is a retired spacer bedridden and dying of cancer, though nobody but him acknowledges it, and he goes along with the pretense that he’ll be well before long. Going to space is a pretty rotten blue-collar job (it killed his son-in-law), his pension and his daughter’s widow’s benefits are lousy, but Donegal can’t let go of it—he wants to stay alive long enough to hear the evening rocket blasting off from the nearby spaceport, demanding that his space boots be put on for the occasion after the priest has come by to administer the last rites.

by Ernest Schroeder

It’s well written and clearly heartfelt (though thankfully less febrile than the other early Miller stories Amazing has reprinted (like Secret of the Death Dome and The Space Witch), but thoroughly maudlin and hard to take too seriously, especially by comparison with the much better stories Miller was already known for (e.g., Conditionally Human and Dark Benediction). Three stars.

Science of Man: Apeman, Superman —Or, 2001's Answer to the World's Riddle, by Leon E. Stover

Leon E. Stover’s “Science of Man” article this issue is Apeman, Superman—or, 2001’s Answer to the World’s Riddle, which eschews the usual anthropology for a long synopsis of the film, superfluously I suspect to most readers. Stover’s interpretation: humans spreading into space will be good (contra C.S. Lewis), we’ll leave all the bad stuff behind along with our bodies, sort of like Pierre Teilhard de Chardin explains: “the gathering force of mind that has come to envelope the surface of the planet Earth must eventuate in a projection into space as a purely spiritual component that will converge ultimately at the Omega point in one single entity, the very stuff of God. But once all the consciousness of the universe has accumulated and merged in the Omega point, God will get lonely in his completeness, and the process of creation must begin again by way of arousing conscious creatures to reach out once more for closure in one collective identity.” Ohhh-kay, whatever you say, chief. Next, Stover quotes Nietzsche, and adds: “Now that the theologians tell us that God is dead, it appears that the burden of theology is upon SF.” Three stars, it’s amusing and probably harmless, but Stover should probably get back to writing what he knows.

Summing Up

At Amazing, the beat goes ever ever on, ever more wearily, with some worthwhile material, but burdened by the weight of mostly lackluster reprints. The ambitious new editor is gone. The apparent new editor is well qualified, but will he be allowed to give the magazine the makeover it needs? Yet again, wait and see.

[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]

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Comics

[February 6, 1969] Are Comics Embracing a 1970s Mindset?

February 6, 2024 Jason Sacks 4 Comments

by Jason Sacks

After the hullabaloo we saw in the world of comics in 1968, our new year of 1969 looks to be equally as interesting. Last year saw both Marvel and DC expand their lines—in Marvel’s case, doubling the number of comics they released—and we fans are lucky to see that diversity.

One of the breakthrough stars of ’68 was Jim Steranko, whose astonishing work on Nick Fury, Agent of SHIELD provided some massive pop-culture thrills and energy. Steranko’s style feels like nobody else’s in comics, combining a pop-art, hyper-stylized approach with excellent storytelling and a massive dose of energy in his work.

Steranko’s successors on SHIELD don’t have the same flash, but journeyman cartoonists like Frank Springer and Herb Trimpe still bring the goods. The Christmas-themed issue 10 brings some special spy drama and a bit more energy than I’m used to from those artists.

Steranko left SHIELD, but 1969 dawns with an equally epochal run by him on Captain America, with writing as always by Stan Lee. One barely needs to look past the covers to see the energy Steranko brings to the page—see this week’s Cap cover for an example. Inside, the team has contrived to bring back Cap’s pal Bucky Barnes, dead since the end of WWII, and the twists and turns promise to be thrilling.

Amazing spread from Steranko's Captain America

Stan, of course, continues to write much of Marvel’s line, most notably on modern classics Amazing Spider-Man (now teamed with artist Jim Mooney), Fantastic Four and Thor (it’s hard to imagine anyone other than Jack Kirby drawing either). Spidey, in particular, has featured some great tales recently. Last year’s Kingpin tale was a show-stopper, while “Crisis on Campus,” cover-dated January 1969 and released in October, places Spider-Man firmly in the world of today, dealing with the fury and chaos of our complicated world.

Other Marvel books have taken on the modern world, too. Most surprising was probably Sgt. Fury and His Howling Commandos, a book which would be as out-of-step with today as that Green Berets movie if not for the way writer Gary Friedrich tries to bridge the gap, as in January’s story of “The Peacemonger, ” in which a character voices empathy for the enemy and tries to find gray areas between the Allies and Japanese. It’s a bit ham-handed, but the attempt is interesting.

Moral ambiguity in the pages of Sgt. Fury

Maybe the nicest surprises from Marvel have been two-fold over the last year or so.

Stan and co. took a chance spinning the Silver Surfer off into his own series. I had my doubts whether the “Sky-Rider of the Spaceways” could support a title all his own—the character often seemed too self-pitying and dull in previous appearances. But my concerns were confounded. Stan installed artist John Buscema on the new title, and Big John brought the same majestic heroic splendor to the book which he has been demonstrating on Avengers. Silver Surfer #4, released in November, was an early Christmas gift for anyone looking to see gorgeous super-hero art.

The other nice surprise has been the move away from the dull, dutiful Wener Roth art in The X-Men. The aforementioned Mr. Steranko drew two mind-blowing issues before giving way to a young but promising tyro named Barry Smith. Smith copies Jack Kirby’s linework dutifully, but his art also shows the promise of an artist who might break out like Neal Adams recently did. Speaking of Adams, the fan press tells us that brilliant artist will be taking over X-Men starting next month, so I am on the edge of my seat waiting for that day to arrive.

Marvel still rounds their line out with a plethora of other super-hero mags (including Captain Marvel, Daredevil and Doctor Strange) as well as war comics, westerns and Archie-style books.

Over at National/DC, the company feels like it’s on the verge of embracing a 1970s mindset in their comics. I’ve written before about the evolution Batman comics took over the last year, from goofy camp to dramatic tales which fit the character’s long history. Frequently written by comic-strip vet Frank Robbins and neo-comics writer Denny O’Neil, there’s a vitality in Batman, Detective and Brave & Bold which fits our times. This month’s Brave & Bold, which teams Batman with the Teen Titans, and includes brilliant Adams art and a story which beautifully captures the generation gap causing chasms in so many American households today.

O’Neil has also added vitality to another of National’s more stodgy titles, as his take on the Justice League of America has moved the book away from formula and towards a book with one foot in reality. JLA #69, for instance, is a fairly sober look at the rule against heroes killing, an interesting exploration of violence in an era when violence causes hell on Earth.

O’Neil also provides the writing chores for one of National’s most radical changes, in Wonder Woman. Recently editor/writer Mike Sekowsky took over chores on WW, one of DC’s most childish characters, and provided a radical shift in stories. Gone was the patriotic costume, transparent plane and magic lasso. Instead, we have “Diana Prince, The New Wonder Woman”, an adventure heroine in the style of Emma Peel or Tara King. The stories have their flaws—I could happily live without seeing Diana’s stereotypical Asian mentor I Ching again—but Sekowsky’s changes have a thrilling feeling similar to the Road Runner running off a cliff—it feels like these stories will crash, but it’s thrilling to stand on air.

Just this month, Sekowsky is leading perennial also-rans the Metal Men into their own revolution. In Metal Men #39, he has the robot heroes melted down and transformed into human form. This change is wild, unlike anything I’ve seen in comics other than the Wonder Woman transformation, and I can’t wait to see how it plays out.

And while the Superman comics seem as stuck in their rhythm as ever (though the Adams covers on those books are fantastic!), DC also has revitalized some of their other classic heroes. Aquaman, now by the Skeates, Aparo and Giordano, has lovely art and a thrilling exploration of underwater life. Jerry Grandanetti delivers surreal art for DC’s mystical hero The Spectre. And they have transformed House of Mystery from a comic with DC’s worst heroes to a standout horror anthology which is often better than that previous gold standard for horror comics. Warren Magazines’ Creepy and Eerie are having a down year, but thankfully DC has filled that void.

But National’s best comics in 1969 are new series. Beware the Creeper and Hawk and Dove come from the fruitful imagination of Steve Ditko and are offbeat heroic fun, strange action delivered in that delectable, indisputable Ditko style.

Anthro, by Howie Post—a rare example of one man providing writing and art skills for a DC comic—tells the story of a boy and his family during caveman times and is a thorough delight—full of fun characters, interesting action and a low-key comedy mood which makes it a treat each time a new issue is released.

The standout new DC title is called Bat Lash and has nothing to do with the caped crusader and everything to do with the new wave of western characters appearing on TV these days. Batton Lash is kind of an antihero, a rare western hero who would rather pick flowers than engage in a gunfight, a wizard with women and at the gambling table who nevertheless always seems to find himself in the middle of one crazy criminal scheme or another. With gorgeous art by Nick Cardy and great writing by Sergio Aragones of MAD fame (no, really!), this is as good as comics get.

A few other titles not to sleep on at National: despite the toy tie-in, Captain Action is a lot of fun and features art by Gil Kane and Wally Wood; Enemy Ace continues in Star Spangled War Stories, with some gritty, smart stories of WWI from the German standpoint; and even DC’s romance comics have caught up with the times and feature more contemporary-feeling tales.

Archie continues to be Archie, the comics your kid sister loves, while Harvey continues the kiddie comics and Gold Key their unexceptional comics line with the likes of Lost in Space, Three Stooges and The Flintstones. I always think of Gold Key comics as “emergency comics”: to pick up when nothing better is on the stands.

Alright, this Pat Boyette page is nice... — Alright, this Pat Boyette page is nice…

Sadly, Charlton comics are worse than that, usually unreadable despite their comics featuring The Phantom, Popeye and Flash Gordon—though Pat Boyette's art on Flash is dynamic. Their comics have a bottom-of-the-barrel feel to them. Worse, their comics actually smell weird, as if their publisher prints cereal boxes as well as comics.

So, overall, comics in 1969 seem in good shape. From top to bottom, there’s something for most everyone. If I can recommend one comic above all the others, it’s Bat Lash. I don’t think the series will be long for the world—it’s too good to sell well—so grab an issue when you can and you will thank me.

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Movies

[February 4, 1969] Potts, Caractacus Potts: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

February 4, 2024 Fiona Moore 3 Comments

by Fiona Moore

The trees are down and the decorations put away, but the Christmas films are still clinging on at the cinemas. The splashiest of these, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, is a charming but over-long crowd-pleaser that can be best summarised as “James Bond, but for children.”

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang movie poster

After all, it’s a screenplay by Roald Dahl from a story by Ian Fleming, produced by Cubby Broccoli, featuring a handsome protagonist who’s a mashup of Bond and Q, a love interest with a suggestively punny name, a magical car, glamourous footage of automobile races and international luxury travel, a cameo from Desmond Llewellyn, sinister Eastern Europeans who want to steal Western technological secrets….

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is actually two stories. The frame story involves Caractacus Potts, an Edwardian inventor (Dick van Dyke, who has fortunately decided not to bother attempting a British accent after his excruciating failure to sound like a Cockney in Mary Poppins). He is a widower with two children, whose inventions are charming and ahead of their time, including: a vacuum cleaner and a device for sending visual images by wireless; however, they fail to find a market.

He strikes up a friendship with Truly Scrumptious (Sally Ann Howes), daughter of a candy manufacturer (James Robertson Justice), who persuades her father to consider Potts’ latest invention, candy whistles called Toot Sweets, but when the whistles turn out to attract dogs her father is furious. Rejected, Potts decides to cheer up his children by buying and fixing up a roadster, which they name Chitty Chitty Bang Bang for the noises it makes, and takes the children and Truly on a seaside picnic, where he and Truly fall in love.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang takes flight

And then we get the second story, told by Potts at the seaside to his children and Truly. In this story, the gadget-obsessed Baron of Vulgaria (Gert Fröbe, who played Goldfinger in the eponymous movie) sees the car and vows to steal it. After a long sequence where two bumbling Vulgarian spies try and fail to do this, the Baron succeeds in kidnapping Potts’ father (Lionel Jeffries), an absent-minded caricature of British imperialism. Potts, Truly and the children come to the rescue in Chitty, which is able to turn into a hovercraft and an airplane as needed.

They land in Vulgaria to discover that the country has no children, by order of the Baron, and the sinister Child-Catcher soon kidnaps Potts’ children as well. Aided by a toymaker (Benny Hill, of all people) and a cave-ful of children hiding away from the Child-Catcher, Potts and Truly rescue the children and their grandfather and bring about a “free state” in Vulgaria.

The Baron and Baroness profess their love for each other

Back in the frame story, Truly’s father hits on the idea of selling the candy whistles as dog sweets, and offers Potts a contract for the invention. The Potts fortune is made, and Potts and Truly can marry and live happily ever after.

The story-within-a-story was, to my mind, the weakest part of the movie. The Eastern European stereotypes were more than a little silly and boring, there was an unnecessarily nasty undercurrent of misogyny in that the Baron is constantly trying, and failing, to murder his wife for no good plot or character reason, and I’m really, really uncomfortable about the Child Catcher, a big-nosed bad guy who kidnaps children and takes them off to an unspoken but terrible fate. I’m also finding it a little difficult to imagine Benny Hill, a comedian best known for racy sketches about chasing pretty young women who are less than willing to cooperate, as a cuddly child-friendly character, but presumably the younger people in the audience won’t have this sort of contextualising detail.

See what I mean? Scary, and arguably antisemitic

Another problem, to my mind, is that despite Chitty Chitty Bang Bang itself being the named star of the movie, featuring heavily on the poster and other promotional materials, and getting a long opening montage showing its original career as a racing car, it’s barely in the story. It’s over an hour before Potts finally gets around to building the thing, and, after two exciting flying and hoverboating sequences, it disappears for ninety per cent of the Vulgaria storyline. If, like me, you were expecting a story centred around a fantastic car, you’re going to be disappointed.

We do get a car-versus-boat naval battle though

On the more positive side, the music is absolutely delightful, with songs like the title track, “Truly Scrumptious”, and “Hushabye Mountain” likely to be long-lasting hits. They were composed by the Sherman Brothers of Mary Poppins fame, who clearly know their stuff. Potts’ machines were designed by British cartoonist and found-object sculptor Rowland Emett, and they are well integrated into the action: a sequence where Potts cooks sausage and eggs for his children using a variety of silly contraptions is worth the price of admission, as is a brief sequence with an apparently sentient vacuum cleaner.

There are plenty of opportunities for van Dyke to showcase his skills as a dancer, in particular one in which he pretends to be a live-size marionette in order to infiltrate the Baron’s castle. The Edwardian setting of the movie is in line with the current craze for a kind of fantasy-Edwardiana of straw hats and candy stripes. British comedy fans can enjoy watching out for cameos from the likes of Barbara Windsor, Arthur Mullard and Richard Wattis.

The "Toot Sweets" production number, a candy factory fantasy to a catchy tune

However, at nearly two and a half hours, the movie is really far too long: there was a fifteen-minute intermission at the cinema where I saw it, which was just as well. I’m tempted to suggest that it should cut the Vulgaria storyline, but unfortunately that’s the only part of the movie with any real cinematic action, and without it you’d just be left with a cute but low-stakes love story about an inventor and an heiress. Three stars—most of them for the production, music and dancing.

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[February 2, 1969] Winners and Losers (March 1969 IF)

February 2, 2024 David Levinson Leave a comment

by David Levinson

A different civil rights struggle

When Ireland gained independence in 1922, six predominantly Protestant counties in the north of the island opted to remain part of the United Kingdom, forming what is today known as Northern Ireland. In the almost 50 years since the partition, there have been tensions both between the two parts and within Northern Ireland between those who want a unified Ireland—predominantly Irish Catholics—and those who prefer the status quo: predominantly Protestants whose ancestors emigrated from Scotland. There have been riots and armed attacks over the decades, but the last few years have been relatively peaceful.

Irish Catholics in the north face discrimination in housing and employment, their political power is diluted by carefully drawn electoral districts, and they are grossly underrepresented in the police, which are backed by Protestant paramilitary units. In the last few years, a civil rights campaign has developed in an effort to right these wrongs. The first of several civil rights marches took place last August. In October, a march took place in Londonderry (called by its older name of Derry by the Irish) despite being denied permission. Television cameras caught images of police attacking the peaceful marchers, sparking outrage around the world.

Spurred by those images, a group of students at Queen’s University in Belfast formed People’s Democracy. On New Year’s Day, they began a march from Belfast to Derry, in imitation of Dr. King’s Selma to Montgomery marches. Along the way, they were met by counter-protests and occasionally attacked. On the 4th, as they approached a bridge in the village of Burntollet a few miles outside Derry, they were attacked by 200-300 Ulster Loyalists (a group not unlike the Citizens’ Councils in the American South) wielding stones, iron bars, and sticks spiked with nails. Meanwhile, the police stood by and did nothing.

Counter-protesters armed with sticks and iron bars attack civil rights marchers while the police look on

That evening, the police stormed into the Bogside neighborhood, attacking Catholics in and outside their homes. Residents forced the police out and set up barricades. Police were denied any access to “Free Derry,” as it came to be known, for nearly a week. Eventually, the barricades came down and police patrols resumed, but tensions remain high.

At this point, a political solution seems unlikely, certainly not one from the Parliament of Northern Ireland. Proposals thus far have been not enough for the nationalists and too much for the loyalists.

A winning issue

At the 1966 Worldcon, IF won the Hugo for Best Professional Magazine. To celebrate, editor Fred Pohl trumpeted a Hugo winner’s issue. He didn’t quite succeed; Frank Herbert wasn’t able to contribute due to a health issue, and the whole thing was weighed down by an installment of a not very good Algis Budrys serial. IF won again the next year, but there was no comparable issue. Last year, the magazine took its third straight best prozine Hugo, and Fred decided to try again. This time, he got every winner to contribute, and I do mean every. Even the winners in the fan categories are here. Let’s see how it all stacks up.

The Steel General rides again. Art by Best Professional Artist Jack Gaughan

Down in the Black Gang, by Philip José Farmer

Mecca Mike is a member of the black gang, the engine crew for The Ship. (That’s an old term for the coal-engine stokers that now refers to the whole engine crew; the reason it applies to Mike might be a little different.) A shortage of hands means that he gets reassigned to Beverly Hills when a huge thrust potential is discovered there. If he can successfully develop that potential, there’s a promotion in it for him.

The thrust potential is in one of these apartments full of squabbling neighbors. Art by Gaughan

Farmer was co-winner in the Best Novella category for “Riders of the Purple Wage.” He’s dabbling in metaphysics again, which seems to be a favorite topic of his, but much better than he usually does. He even managed to bring the story to a successful ending, something he often has trouble with. Great ideas, incomplete execution, but not this time. This one’s right on the line between three and four stars, but I think I’ll be generous.

Four stars, but probably not a contender for the Galactic Stars.

Phoenix Land, by Harlan Ellison

Red is staggering through the desert on an expedition to find the risen ruins of an ancient civilization. He’s already buried his best friend and is now saddled with an ex-girlfriend and her husband, who financed the expedition. Unfortunately, he cut some corners. Whether or not they survive is an open question.

Harlan came away with two Hugos: Best Short Fiction for “I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream” (which ran in the first Hugo winners issue I mentioned earlier) and Best Dramatic Presentation for “The City on the Edge of Forever” (which he’d probably rather not have). A lot of other winners and nominees also appeared in Dangerous Visions, which he edited. This particular story is full of that trademark Ellison anger, but the bite at the end doesn’t hit the way he wants it to.

A low three stars.

Authorgraphs: An Interview with Harlan Ellison

An interesting interview, but for a guy who can write tight, terse stories, he sure does like to run his mouth. Also, Harlan, my friend, you’re getting a little long in the tooth to be an enfant terrible.

Three stars.

Art by Gaughan

The Ship Who Disappeared, by Anne McCaffrey

Best Novella co-winner Anne McCaffrey (for “Weyr Search”) brings us another story about Helva, who is essentially a brain in a box operating a ship that has become her body. This time she’s investigating the disappearance of other brain ships while also dealing with the realization she made a bad choice in her new partner.

Helva has a chat with the bad guy. Art by Brock

Unfortunately, these stories have gotten progressively worse. They started from a very high mark, so they’re still readable, but this one barely makes the grade. Helva spends more time being unhappy about her choice of Brawn than she does worrying about disappearing ships. She succeeds mostly through coincidence and is unconscious for the key action.

Barely three stars.

The Frozen Summer, by David Redd

The centaur-like Senechi have colonized Earth, trapped in a new ice age. Looking for a quick score, two of them are investigating native legends of a valley where it is always summer, full of gold and gems, and guarded by a goddess. To the man she has held captive for centuries, she is simply “the witch.” Who, if any, will manage to escape?

The witch turns the skeletons of those who invade her valley into golden ships. Art by Virgil Finlay

Redd is the only fiction author in this issue not to have won a Hugo. Powerful women in frozen landscapes seems to be a recurring theme with him, and all of his stories, on that theme or not, have a strange beauty to them. This one is no exception.

Four stars.

The Faithful Messenger, by George Scithers

George Scithers is the editor of Amra, which took home the Best Fanzine Hugo. Although he’s had stories printed in various fanzines over the years, this is his first professional sale, making him this month’s IF First author. As I understand it, Amra focuses on sword-and-sorcery tales; they carry a lot of critical articles on Conan and the like. Scithers’ story, on the other hand is more an old-fashioned SF tale of two human scouts encountering a robotic mailman on a distant planet. It’s well-told and nowhere near as hokey as it sounds.

Three stars.

Endfray of the Ofay, by Fritz Leiber

Someone is diverting supplies intended for poor Blacks to the white reservations around North America, always with the message “Courtesy of the Endfray of the Ofay!” When these antics start to interfere in the war “between North America and Africa to Make the World Safe for Black Supremacy,” the Empress in Memphis (the one in Tennessee) demands something be done.

Her Serene Darkness is displeased. Art by Gaughan

Fritz Leiber (Best Novelette for “Gonna Roll the Bones”) offers us another satire in the vein of A Specter is Haunting Texas. For me, this is much less successful. Most of the humor stems from the pun where Pig Latin and Black slang overlap, with very little elsewhere. I’m also not sure a white author should be poking into some of these corners. It’s often hard to tell if he’s mocking or perpetuating some stereotypes.

A low three stars.

If… and When, by Lester del Rey

Lester del Rey has never won a Hugo. Of course, he wrote most of his best stuff before the award existed. In any case, this month he looks at the differences between robots in the real world and in science fiction. Those in SF are much more mechanical men than machines. If we ever get machines that actually think, how might that differ from the way we do?

Three stars.

Saboteur, by Ted White

Mark Redwing has developed a method for manipulating public opinion and government policy through things like blackmail, riot, and assassination. It’s not entirely clear what his ultimate goal is. Nor is it clear just who the saboteur of the title might be.

Mark Redwing and his trusted assistant Linda. Art by Best Fan Artist George Barr

Ted White won the Hugo for Best Fan Writer. Even filthy pros still write for the fanzines occasionally. This story is fully in pro mode, and it’s a good one. It should make you think and come back to you when you least expect it.

Four stars.

Creatures of Darkness, by Roger Zelazny

Zelazny (Best Novel for Lord of Light) wraps up the issue and his strange tale of Egyptian gods who are actually human beings in the far future. It’s impossible to say much about this convoluted story in the space available here, but it has that quintessential Zelazny-ness to it. It’s probably best read along with the other two bits, since characters have more than one name, and it’s sometimes hard to remember who is who. There are also clearly pieces missing from a larger whole. I look forward to seeing it all in one place.

Four stars, with the potential for five when it’s complete.

Osiris brings his greatest weapon to bear against Typhon. Art by Reiber

Summing up

There it is, a contribution from every single one of last year’s Hugo winners, fan and pro. One or two feel a bit dashed off or could have benefited from more time for another rewrite, but none are bad. On the whole, it’s a success. If every issue could be this good, IF would be guaranteed to walk off with a fourth Hugo this year in St. Louis.

Has it been long enough since the last Retief story for a new one to feel fresh?

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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[January 31, 1969] Clinging to life (Star Trek: "That Which Survives")

January 31, 2024 Lorelei Marcus 3 Comments

by Lorelei Marcus

I'm convinced Star Trek is cursed. Around the same time every season, the episodes drop off in quality, going from engaging teleplays each week to bottom of the barrel Hollywood hack. Of course, the divide isn't quite so clear cut, but there is a distinctive shift as the producer runs out of his stellar front-runners and begins scrounging for TV-writer backlog to fill space.

I had hoped Season 3 would be an exception to this given its new producer and absolutely sublime first half ("Spock's Brain" notwithstanding!) but alas, the proverb remains true: the bigger they are…the harder they fall.

Now, granted, the recent decline has not been a degeneration of ideas, which often carry promise and interest, but their clumsy and contradictory execution. We as the audience are baited in on hooks, reeled in on the currents of the episode, and then discover, too late, that the answer at the end of the line is more convoluted and less inspired than the theories we'd developed during the journey.

And "That Which Survives" is no exception.

We begin with the Enterprise circling a newly discovered planet anomaly: it has an atmosphere and plant growth despite its young geologic age and small size. Kirk, McCoy, Sulu, and senior geologist D'Amato (an exciting new face—but don't get too attached) beam down to study the planet.

As they're being beamed, however, a mysterious woman (Losira, played by Lee Meriwether, lately of Time Tunnel) pops aboard and kills the transporter technician! The landing party makes it down anyway and ends up in the center of a vicious earthquake. The Enterprise experiences a similar tremor and is flung 990.7 light years from the planet.

"Wait! Let's shake hands, first!"

Spock is more concerned about rounding errors than the ship's current predicament, chastising Lt. Rahda for describing the distance as "1000 light years".

The landing party immediately began protocol for a survival situation after failing to detect or contact the Enterprise. Sulu and McCoy both pick up odd readings on their tricorders: "Like a door opening and closing." At the same moment, D'Amato sees a beautiful woman—the same one from the transporter room—who claims "she is for him" and tries to touch him. She succeeds, and he drops dead, every cell in his body disrupted. His corpse is soon discovered by the other three, but the woman is nowhere to be found.

Arthur Batanides is both delighted not to be cast as a mook this week, and dismayed that he's about to die

While the landing party scenes are the most interesting part of the episode, not much more happens. The woman eventually reappears and tries to attack Sulu, but Kirk and McCoy intervene, discovering in the process that the woman can't hurt anyone but the person she is targeting. She disappears and reappears again, going after Kirk this time, but Sulu and McCoy successfully protect him. For no apparent reason other than a limited runtime, the three are then allowed access to the planet's defense control center, and they learn the truth of the mysterious woman. It turns out the original builders of the planetoid accidentally invented a disease which killed off their race thousands of years ago. The commander left behind a computer imprinted with her personality and programmed it to kill any intruder. Kirk manages to destroy the computer before it can kill them, and all is well. A fine solution, though rushed and poorly explored, the episode would have hung together alright…if the scenes on the Enterprise didn't destroy all meaning in it.

"Wait! Maybe I can talk it to death. It's worked with every computer before…"

Shortly after the Enterprise is flung 1000 light years away, the death-robot woman appears on the ship, is implied to read the mind of a technician, kills him, and sabotages the matter/anti-matter combustion tubes. This raises questions like:

"How did the woman travel so far from the planetoid?"

"Why did she bother to attack the ship when it was no longer anywhere near the planet? Isn't 1000 light years far enough away for the computer to no longer see the Enterprise as a threat?"

It would have made more sense if the ship had simply been damaged from teleporting (logical, since it was never explained how the feat was done) and Lee Meritwether's lost screen time could have been made up for on the planet with additional scenes of the landing party unraveling the mystery of the lost civilization.

I haven't even mentioned the terribly dull scenes of Scotty trying to save the Enterprise from a Losira-induced explosion. Every party of that sequence felt like an artificial addition to stretch runtime. To summarize, Spock tells Scotty how to do his job, Scotty hesitates, runs into some roadblocks, then finally, in the last ten seconds does the job and saves the Enterprise. That's it.

"I've found the leak, Mr. Spock! I canna change the laws of plumbing!"

Once again, this is an area that could have been improved with some minor changes. Instead of the whole ship blowing up, have it simply be stranded. The tension comes from whether Scotty can fix the ship in time without getting himself killed. Have Spock as a commander wrestling with whether to eject the pod Scotty's working in because a wire's accidentally been tripped and now the whole ship is at stake. That would have been compelling storytelling.

This episode had so much promise: the promise of another ancient civilization and 4-D beings (Losira's teleportation effect is genuinely neat), of new cool characters and cameos of old beloveds like Sulu and Dr. M'Benga, of survival plot interwoven with futuristic technology. Indeed, there were a lot of pieces to love.

But, like a robot who is only beautiful on the surface, the actual experience was less than pleasant. Three stars—2 for the episode, and 1 for Merriwether's great acting. Hopefully, next week will be better.

by Gideon Marcus

Full reverse!

Remember the execrable episode, "The Galileo Seven"? There, we were meant to believe that Spock had never held a command in his life, and when forced to lead just six stranded crew on a hostile planet, he kept tripping over the basic emotional needs of his human comrades.

Now recall "The Tholian Web", where a much-improved Spock handled Captain Kirk's presumed death with tact and even compassion, officiating a funeral, commiserating with McCoy, and generally earning the respect of his crew. Scotty even called him "Captain", in a tear-inducing moment.

Heck, just recall last week's "The Mark of Gideon". While in no wise a good episode, Spock carried out negotiations with Chairman Hodin with reserve and acumen. This was a man who could, when the need arose, handle the center seat without issue. And we know from "Court Martial" that people in blue shirts sometimes become starship captains…

This week, the Enterprise is imperiled, Spock's two best friends and the ship's Third Officer are missing and presumed dead, and yet the half-Vulcan pedantically harps on decimal points and the human compulsion to be thanked for carrying out their duties. He is a cold fish, inspiring no loyalty. He also never seems in much of a hurry to do…well…anything! It is absolutely inconsistent with his demeanor as acting-skipper established over the last two seasons. Moreover, it is inconsistent with his ever-deepening bond with Kirk and McCoy. The real Spock would be mad with worry…and covering it up with a stoic and efficient veneer, welding together a 430-man team whose sole purpose is to retrieve the distressed landing party.

But it was easier to write a caricature. As one of our guests last week noted, it was as if the episode had been written by someone who hated the characters and wanted to lampoon them.

"Is it already time to harass someone else? Goodie!"

Then, of course, we get the egregious bit where it's Spock who tells Scotty how to fix the failed matter/antimatter regulator. As Joe Reid has noted many times, Kirk often gets the pleasure of being the smartest person in the room, suggesting solutions to folks who should be telling him how to solve problems. This time, Spock is the beneficiary of this irksome trend. At least in "The Doomsday Machine", Scotty is ahead of Kirk in the figuring out of things, and he beams admiringly at his captain as if at a promising student. In "That Which Survives", Scotty has considered and discarded Spock's solution—manually fixing the antimatter flow—as too dangerous. With no other solutions, what, exactly, is it more dangerous than?

Blech.

While we're at it, Kirk was quite the jerk to Sulu on the planet. Perhaps this was because he was distraught from the potential loss of the love of his life (the Enterprise), but at least he could have said he was sorry, as he has done in every other instance where he has snapped at crew under tension.

2.5 stars.

by Janice L. Newman

Slivers of Silver

While I agree with my esteemed co-writers about the poor characterization and plot holes in this episode, there were some good new special effects that I don’t recall seeing before.

I always enjoy looking at the props, especially after having read the interview with the man responsible for creating them in one of the many fanzines. The blue-tipped grass on the planet was pretty and interesting, giving it a slightly alien feel. The effects with Losira disappearing by seeming to fold up into a black line were new and intriguing. When Scotty went to fix the broken warp engine, a neat ‘blue lightning’ effect made a barrier across the tube. The flickering red and green lights on his face, though a bit headache-inducing to watch, also aided the illusion and increased the tension of the scene.

"There's your problem, Mr. Spock—a green gel light!"

Losira’s costume was cleverly-designed, but felt strange and wrong for her role. Several of my friends commented on the fact that she didn’t look at all like the head of a distant outpost whose members had just been killed off by a plague. With the cutouts in her shirt and her elaborate hairdo and makeup, she did not have much of a ‘last survivor’ or ‘hearty commander’ feeling. Of course, there is nothing wrong with being feminine, and for all we know she may have dressed up in her race’s version of formal wear before giving her final report. Still, it clashed uncomfortably with the plot for many of us, even if the seamstresses among us were mentally trying to figure out how to re-create the look.

Unfortunately, well-done effects cannot carry a story, and, while the episode was mildly-engaging, it didn’t leave much of an impression. Two stars.

Are There Men on This Planet?

by Mx. Blue Cathey-Thiele

I was not the only viewer disappointed by some stand-out moments which highlighted that, progressive though Star Trek is, it still has weak spots. In particular this week: sexism. Losira is a replica of a commander, the last survivor of a disease-struck station. Her costume, while intriguing in design, conveyed none of that. Sulu comments when first threatened that he “doesn't want to shoot a woman.” As chivalrous as the helmsman is, by the time of starships and alien worlds, I would hope that humans no longer treat women differently than men, deadly touch or not. And then too, the repeated focus on beauty. A storm can be beautiful and deadly, but observing a force of nature is not the same as McCoy, Sulu, and Kirk making a point to comment on how Losira looks. These are the same crew who get excited about flying into the heart of a giant amoeba or historical facts from centuries past. After all they experienced on this not-a-planet, it seems improbable to focus on whether or not they found an alien woman attractive. As explorers and scientists, why not marvel at the mysterious botanical and geological feats, the design of the defense system, or the fact that that defense system was able to send the Enterprise through a molecular transporter and 990.7 light years away! Or wonder why a defense system would be calibrated to perfectly match a target, and seemed as equally focused on unifying as destroying?

(sings) "What intrigues a man about a woman is elusive…"

Despite the flaws, and feeling put off by the attitude of the men, I still enjoyed the episode. Characters had time to share the spotlight and pull on threads from previous episodes. I love seeing the crew operate the Enterprise when the Captain is away, and how different officers handle command. Lt. Rahda did a fine job as helmsman, and it was nice to have Dr. M'Benga return to the screen. Logically, a ship this size must have multiple doctors, but this episode confirmed that a minimum of three were present, despite us usually only seeing McCoy and Nurse Chapel. (Maybe the ship could spare one to give Spock a check-up after that bump to his head.) I also noted Kirk's persistent focus on supplies—he brought up the need for food and water at least four times—which may have been in part due to his experience on Tarsus IV, which started with a crop blight: something that is bound to leave a lasting impression regardless of whether he talks about it.

The overarching plot was lacking, and I would have liked to have gotten more explanation or simply explanation spaced out better. However as an episode among a larger story, it gave us a great look at the workings of my favorite starship and crew.

3.5 stars

[Come join us tonight (January 31st) for the next thrilling episode of Star Trek! KGJ is broadcasting the show live with commercials and accompanied by trekzine readings at 8pm Eastern and Pacific. You won't want to miss it…]

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[January 28, 1969] Slidin' (February 1969 Analog)

January 28, 2024 Gideon Marcus 1 Comment

by Gideon Marcus

Mudslides

Winter is the wet season for Southern California, and we've been just drenched these past weeks. I understand seven inches of rain fell in the Los Angeles area, causing terrible mudslides, property damage, and injury. Apparently, things were made worse by a spate of arson last year that got rid of the stabilizing undergrowth.

Ontario's Foothill Boulevard looking west toward Red Hill Country Club Drive, flooded. (Daily Report photo)

I've had many friends ask if we're alright, afraid we might have been swept downstream in the torrent. Rest assured that Vista is disaster-proof (knock on wood), and our house is at the top of a hill. We had some deep pools of water in the backyard, but they've since drained. Our neighbors have gotten invaded by bugs seeking refuge from the storm, though.

A man runs past a station wagon that was washed two blocks down Carnelian Avenue, along with part of the road surface. (Daily Report photo)

Ups and Downs

If the physical world is getting washed away, one edifice that manages to stand firmly, if not always proudly, is Analog, science fiction's most popular magazine. Has this month's issue slid at all, or is it holding fast? let's see:

by Kelly Freas

A Womanly Talent, by Anne McCaffrey

by Kelly Freas

We're back in the world of psionic talents, perhaps related to the stories that involve ladies in towers. A pair of politicians want to pass a law protecting and enabling the psionically adept, legitimizing things like professional prognosticators and psychic manipulators. A Luddite strawman, name of Zeusman, is against it.

Meanwhile. Ruth is the wife of Lajos, a precog. She is frustrated because she has an unidentified talent, and also because she really wants to be a mom. Eventually, the latter frustration is relieved, and her daughter ends up demonstrating what Ruth's power really is.

Aside from the tale beginning with ten pages of conversation that reads more like a Socratic dialogue than a story, I just find McCaffrey's writing so flat and amateur. I'm sure all the psi stuff was music to editor Campbell's ears, including lines like "Those who truly understand psionic power need no explanation. Those who need explanation will never understand," but it doesn't work for me. Beyond that, McCaffrey's attitudes on the relations of the sexes is so atavistic, although I suppose she gets points for talking about sex at all. Maybe Campbell likes that, too.

Two stars.

You'll Love the Past, by J. R. Pierce

by Leo Summers

A time traveler from the 21st Century takes a trip in a time machine to the 24th Century. A war has transformed society: America is now largely mixed race, with the whitest of the population an inbred and stupid group. Socially, the continent is organized into placid socialist cooperatives run by religious Brothers, advanced technology provided by the Japanese. It's the sort of world one can be happy in…provided one is favored by the status quo. Every so often, one of the non-favored tries to escape.

Not a bad story, even if it seems to be obliquely casting aspersions on Communists of darker hue.

Three stars.

The Man Who Makes Planets, by G. Harry Stine

Photos by G. Harry Stine

A nifty piece by Analog's resident rocket enthusiast about a fellow who makes model planets for a living. I'd get one for my house, but they're a bit pricey—a quarter of a hundred large!

Four stars.

Extortion, Inc., by Mack Reynolds

by Leo Summers

Yet another piece set in the (anti-) Utopian future of People's Capitalism, where North America has become a stratified welfare state, and money is a thing of the past.

Rex, last of the private dicks, is engaged by a government minister to find out who stole the plans for a miniaturized nuclear bomb, and why said criminal is blackmailing him, threatening to distribute the plans should a ransom not be paid promptly.

The solution to this mystery is actually trivial, and the story isn't quite long enough for what it's trying to do. Nevertheless, I always find this setting interesting. And perhaps prescient. There was piece in last week's newspaper about the National Urban League's proposal for a universal income…

Three stars.

Wolfling (Part 2 of 3), by Gordon R. Dickson

by Kelly Freas

Back in part one, Jim Kiel was sent from Earth to study the intergalactic empire whose fringes were discovered when a Terran probe made it to Alpha Centauri. An anthropologist and ubermensch, Jim is essentially a spy, though the High Born of the empire don't know that—they think that he's an interesting curiosity, favored for his bullfighting skills and independent thinking.

This installment begins just after Jim's first encounter with the Emperor, a genial, capable man who, nevertheless, seemed to suffer a stroke. A stroke that no one but Jim noticed. Much of this middle installment is devoted to Jim's navigation of High Born society, attempting to master the reading machines to determine if Earth really is a long-lost colony of the empire or something else, and also how he discovers and foils an insurrection attempt with designs on incapacitating the empire's leader. In the last portion, Jim is promoted to the equivalent of a Brigadier General and sent to quell a rebellion. This is actually a trap designed to kill him, but he neatly sidesteps it. Now he wants to know why he's marked for death.

The pot continues to boil. There's a lot of the flavor of Dickson's Dorsai series, but with a different, perhaps even more interesting, setting.

Four stars.

A Chair of Comparative Leisure, by Robin Scott

by Leo Summers

A stammering professor somehow manages to be the most magnetic, as well as effective at conveying information. Does his technique go beyond the verbal?

(Yes. He has the power of psychic projection. Whoopee. Two stars.)

Calculating the damage

You win some, you lose some, and this month's issue clocks in at exactly three stars. While nothing could compare with the superlative four-star Fantasy and Science Fiction, three stars is still lower than New Worlds (3.3) and Galaxy (3.2). It does beat out IF (2.8) and Fantastic (2.2), however.

You could fill as many as three issues with good stuff out of the six that were put out—in large part thanks to how great F&SF was this month. Nevertheless, women contributed very little of that, with only 6.67% of new fiction written by female writers, most of that Anne McCaffrey's drudge of a story.

Still, in an uncertain world, I can't complain too much. Especially since, mudslides or no, the Post Office still manages to get me my magazines on time!

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[January 26, 1968] A New World Order New Worlds, February 1969

January 26, 2024 Mark Yon 2 Comments

by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again.

After the grumpiness of my last review, I’m pleased to say that 1969 has arrived and put me in a better frame of mind. I am determined that this new year will see me being more positive. Mind you, New Worlds seems determined at times to try and derail my positive outlook. This new issue is back to the usual mixture of things that inspire, as well as things that confuse and even annoy.

A noticeable change is that the magazine is under new publishers. Last month it was “Stoneheart Publications”. This month it is “New Worlds Publications”, edited by Moorcock, Charles Platt and James Sallis.

Impressively startling cover by Gabi Nasemann.

Although the publishers may be new, the cover – another one of those strangely-hued pictures of people – is, I must admit, quite startling. It rather made me think of the ending of 2001: A Space Odyssey (which I have finally seen at the cinema, by the way.) If the idea is to grab customer’s attention at the few newsagents willing to put the magazine on its shelves, I would say well done.

But does it say anything about the magazine, or the contents within? (Actually, it does, but obliquely, in that there’s a brief reference to a newborn child in Sallis’s Cornelius story.)

I guess that some may like this enigmatic approach – who knows what you’ll read about in this issue? – but I’m less convinced. The experiment of putting story prose on the front seems to have gone, though, as too the Lead In telling us of the writers and artists in this month’s issue.

Article: Orthographies by James Sallis

Instead of the Lead In, we have the return of the much-delayed and now Co-Editor James Sallis. (See last month’s issue for details.) In the article Sallis muses on the point and purpose of the modernist novel, which may be quite interesting, but unfortunately Sallis fills the article with such highfaluting gobbledygook that reads as if it is straight out of a university thesis paper.

Whilst Orthographies clearly shows Sallis’s wider reading (perhaps that’s what he’s been doing whilst away?) I did wonder whether the regular readership would appreciate it. Analog it is not! (More of which later, by the way.) Part two follows next month – personally I can wait. Not a great start. 2 out of 5.

Jeremiad by James Sallis

As expected, the usual nudity, not entirely related to the prose. Artwork by Gabi Nasemann.

Two months ago, the magazine declared that Mike Moorcock’s character Jerry Cornelius would continue in future issues by stories written by others, starting with James Sallis’s Jeremiad. It was delayed but now we have it.

And… actually, it’s not bad, though being a Sallis piece, it can’t refrain from getting some poetry in. Result – sex, drugs, disassociation with reality. It seems to be about changes through fractured elements of time, which seem to relate to Jerry’s mental breakdown. Although there are parts and characters regular readers of the Moorcock stories will recognise, this is not a typical Jerry Cornelius story. Its purpose may be unclear – much of it seems dream-like, suffused through a drug-induced haze – but dare I say it, it is a good Jerry Cornelius story. 4 out of 5.

Period Piece by J. M. Rose

A brief allegorical stream-of-consciousness story, set in some sort of dystopia or post-apocalyptic event. Sallis and Moorcock seem to love these sorts of stories, which read as if they’re some sort of weird dream. (This one has chickens hatching in the writer’s mouth and a pubic hair frozen in an ice cube, for example.) The prose is deliberately provocative, but this is nothing really new. 2 out of 5.

Kite by Barry Bowes

Artwork by Gabi Nasemann.

This is almost a kitchen-sink drama, a description of Noreen Polltoaster, a young primary school teacher who longs to escape her mundane, safe lifestyle and do something more daring with her life. Her response is to go out in the rain wearing nothing but a coat and lie down naked in a park, where she is spotted by two young boys. The inner monologue is well done, and the sense of dullness created is impressive, but the story all seems, like Noreen’s life, rather pointless. A safe and rather boring 3 out of 5.

Construction by Giles Gordon

A story as odd as the previous one, about the construction of a building and observations from it. It is all angles and girders and views of crowds, as the author mumbles precariously about who-knows-what. This is typical Giles Gordon stuff. I’m not a fan, personally but some may like it, in that now-typical “read the poetic prose, never mind the meaning” kind of way. 2 out of 5.

Article: Salvador Dali: The innocent as Paranoid by J. G. Ballard

J. G. “Chuckles” Ballard this month first tries to distil the meaning of the work of surrealist artist Salvador Dali. Lots of cutup sections and pictures, including the intriguing table below.

Table made up by J. G. comparing different writers. Notice the positioning of Pohl and Asimov and that of Burroughs (presumably William S., not Edgar Rice!), a sign of where this magazine seems to be going.

I would say that this is perhaps the article Ballard was born to write. Interesting, entertaining, and very odd, yet suited to Ballard. 4 out of 5.

The Spectrum by D. M. Thomas
Artwork by Haberfield.

More D.M. Thomas. I was slightly more interested when it said that the poem was “after the Xi Effect by Philip Latham”, a story I’m sure I’ve read at some point, but I was sadly disappointed. A poem of the end of the world, and suspender belts. Moving on… 2 out of 5.

The Master Plan by John T. Sladek

Artwork by John T. Sladek.

Another anti-war, or at least anti-military story by Sladek. Similar in style and tone to Disch's Camp Concentration, this gains points by being briefer, yet nearly loses points by being perhaps too similar in style and tone.

Pictures, poetry, extracts of text all combine to create this collage. 4 out of 5.

The Adventures of Foot-fruit by Mervyn Peake
Work by Mervyn Peake.

Part of an unfinished work by the recently deceased Mr. Peake.

The Angstrom Palace by C. J. Lockesley

Artwork by Prigann.

Another fractured dreamscape. Nice prose but really nothing of consequence. 3 out of 5.

The Conspiracy by Norman Spinrad

Artwork by Prigann.

The return of Norman. Prose made up of slogans, interspersed with unanswered questions. Manages to combine contemporary cultural references with paranoid ideas – life’s all a conspiracy, really. Though we’ve seen work like this before – see John Dos Passos, John Brunner and yes, good ol’ J. G.. I liked this one for its distrustful manner. 4 out of 5.

How Doctor Christopher Evans Landed on the Moon by J. G. Ballard

And writing of J. G., here’s a short prose piece. This one took a bit of working out, but it seems to show an unsuccessful Moon landing in the form of a computer print out, even when the computer program says it is successful. (Notice the velocity at zero feet.) One where you have to join the dots yourself, so to speak, and all the better for it. Mind you, I was a little disappointed to discover that this was not the welcome return of science article writer Christopher Evans! 3 out of 5.

Entropy by Thomas Pynchon
Artwork by Gabi Nasemann and Charles Platt.

Since the publication of his novel The Crying of Lot 49 in 1966, I’ve not read much from this writer, although he seems to be gaining a reputation for writing dense, complex literary novels – something that seems to fit in with New Worlds’s current agenda.

So, as expected, this is a complicated, fractured story dealing with physical and metaphysical change. There’s lots of talk about heat exchange and metaphysical allegory across different time periods.

Reading this, I think that this is what the ‘new’ New Worlds aspires to be. It is deliberately obtuse and stubbornly literary in style. I don’t think I got it all, but it seems meaningful, unlike other similar stories New Worlds often publishes. I have to admire Entropy for being partly confusing, partly irritating, and yet undeniably damnably clever. 4 out of 5.

Article: Mervyn Peake – An Obituary by Michael Moorcock

As mentioned earlier, and as the title explains. Moorcock praises Peake’s work whilst pointing out the irony that his work was only now becoming better known as his health was failing. Untapped potential, sadly.

An advertisement from this issue of Peake's better-known work.

Book Reviews

A varied list this month. M. John Harrison covers a range of books that look at social class and modern myths, R. Glyn Johns reviews some psychological material and Marshal McLuhan, and Peter White discusses some surrealist literature. None is really genre-related.

Onto the science stuff, and Charles Platt positively reviews Arthur C. Clarke’s The Promise of Space amongst others.

More science-fictional in nature, James Cawthorn reviews Philip K. Dick’s ‘uneven’ The World Jones Made, the ‘refreshingly simplistic’ Analog 3 edited by John W. Campbell, and the limited adventure novels Assignment in Nowhere and A Trace of Memory by Keith Laumer. The Best of Fantasy & Science Fiction 13 edited by Avram Davidson is generally received favourably, even when Zenna Henderson’s People story is described as ‘soggy’. The Rest of the Robots by Isaac Asimov succeeds only too well, and SF: Author’s Choice edited by Harry Harrison is as fascinating and as diverse as you would expect. Cawthorn finishes with brief reviews of Orbit 3, edited by Damon Knight and A Far Sunset by Edmund Cooper.

Briefly mentioned and reviewed by D.R.B. are a number of books also received.

Summing Up

Perhaps inspired by the new publishers, this issue of New Worlds feels like a sort of reset. More than ever before, I think this issue shows New Worlds' desire to be a literary magazine. Yes, there is a mixture of new and old authors, but it feels like more than ever before the emphasis is on literary material you wouldn’t read elsewhere. For better or worse, you'll not get an issue of Analog or The Magazine of Fantasy & SF like this.

Why am I not surprised to see this advert for a controversial new album here?

Until next time!

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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[January 24, 1969] Make rheum, make rheum (Star Trek: "The Mark of Gideon")

January 24, 2024 Gideon Marcus 3 Comments

by Gideon Marcus

"Gideon"—the very name connotes greatness. Grandeur. Brilliance. Romance. Surely, any world with that namesake must be a living paradise. So it is no wonder that the Federation bought the reports sent from planet Gideon declaring it to be just that. No wonder that the Federation would tie itself in knots so as not to jeopardize the chances of welcoming Gideon to the Federation.

Unfortunately, Gideon has other plans.

From the moment Captain Kirk, the sole allowed representative of the Federation, beams down to Gideon, "The Mark of Gideon" catches your attention. We've seen Kirk on an empty Enterprise before—in "This Side of Paradise", "By Any Other Name", and (sort of) "Wink of an Eye", but it's no less effective for its repetition. Sure, it's just a re-use of the standing sets on Stage 9, but then so was "The Tholian Web", "The Omega Glory" and "Mirror, Mirror". Indeed, because we have seen the sets used to represent other ships and other dimensions, the audience has already been trained to think in terms of historical precedents rather than the true situation.

That true situation, of course, is that Kirk is actually in a fantastically detailed replica of the Enterprise, so good that it takes him a (credulity-stretching given how quickly Spock figures things out) long time to figure out that he's not on his beloved ship. But fairly quickly, the episode's focus returns to the real Enterprise and Spock doing his usual sterling job in command, the "Mark of Gideon" becomes less "Where is Everybody?" and more "Stopover in a Quiet Town" (respectively, the first episode of The Twilight Zone, and one of the very last).

The plot is quite simple: Gideon was once Heaven-on-Earth, but it has since become a Malthusian nightmare due to the one-two punch of no native diseases and a fanatical reverence for life. Only the very privileged get a few square meters of space to themselves (Holy Shades of the Soviet Union, Batman!) So, the Gideon council hatches a plan to capture Kirk, withdraw some of his blood, and use the lingering, though harmless, remnants of Vegan Meningitis therein to infect Odona, the council chair's daughter. She will then serve as an example and a vector to infect the rest of the population of Gideon, which presumably will be devastated before natural immunity kicks in (or enough Gideonites stop wanting to be sick).

"Father, could I have a Bayer? No other aspirin works better."

The real problem with this episode is not the story, nor the effective bits with Kirk and Odona on the empty ship, nor the entertaining segments featuring Spock sparring with Chairman Hodin. It's that the plot and the events don't match up.

Regarding the disease: it's not stated what happens if mortality turns out to be 100%, or what the Gideonites will do once the disease loses its lethality.

It's never explicitly stated, either, why (or how) the Gideonites went through the trouble of building a replica of a starship on their surface for the purpose of letting Kirk wander around in it. If all they need is his blood, he could have been kept unconscious for the nine minutes required to take his blood and then sent back to the Enterprise with some kind of cover story. Did the plan really require that Odona join Kirk in the simulated halls of the starship? Did she really need to fake falling for him?

"I have. to. kiss you. Odona. It's in…the script."

I really want this episode to work. Not just because it bears an absolutely terrific name, but because it is genuinely entertaining to watch from beginning to end. Our crowd advanced a few hypotheses that I like. The best was that the ship was Odona's idea, and like the Dolman from "Elaan of Troyius", she could be refused nothing. Moreover, there was an intense voyeuristic desire on the part of the Gideonites to see beings in a truly open space, so this plan killed two birds with one stone. Another is simply that Kirk was drugged when he woke up, and the mock-up didn't need to be perfect (a la last year's Assignment: Moon Girl).

As for the idea that it is hypocrisy for the Gideonites to value life yet hatch a scheme to indirectly kill billions (trillions?), I am reminded of the orthodox Jew who could not turn on a light switch himself on the Sabbath, so he cannily lifted his infant son (too young to be bound by mitzvot) to within flicking range of the switch. And religion is, indeed, in the crosshairs of this episode, for did not Pope Paul VI this summer enjoin Catholics from using The Pill, humanity's main hope of stopping the population boom?

I'm writing this piece in the cold light of day, when I should be more inclined to savage the episode in light of its inconsistencies and absurdities. But I find myself feeling charitable—perhaps it's because director Jud Taylor finally seems to be finding his sea legs (even if Shatner. did. employ many. unnecessary pauses. last week).

Three stars.

Deeply Creepy

by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

Maybe it was the feral cats yowling over my fence in the middle of the episode, but this is for my money the creepiest episode we've seen yet. Something about those yearning, horrifying disembodied faces just got me right in the shivvers.

It also had me thinking about ferality, about what happens when something once tamed becomes unruly. Consider pigeons. Tamed and bred by humans for 10,000 years as messenger birds, companions, and beauties, only to themselves over the course of a bare century transition back to a wild world that they had never been prepared for.

The people of Gideon likewise seem to be at the devastating mercy of a too-too civilized society whose very progress towards perfection endangers their lives. Yes, I felt the storytelling placed too heavy a burden on just telling us that they love sex too much to prevent vicious overcrowding — a cultural quirk that felt too big to swallow. But the feeling of confinement, of encroachment and enclosure came through loud and clear.

In a way, their whole society had become feral: bred and evolved for specific purposes and suddenly set adrift with all of that breeding and evolution still in place, but none of the supports and expectations which allowed it to happen in the first place. The individuals seemed civilized enough, grading on a curve of aliens we've seen thus far, but the entire concept of a society so desperately, brutally crowded seemed fundamentally wild to me.

Let's get to the criticism. As beautifully creepy as the premise was, the synthetic bodysuits and wobbling crowded walks outside the windows were closer to funny than horrifying. The question of where they got space to build a 1:1 model of the Enterprise also beggared belief. Some science fiction and fantasy writers believe you get one big lie, a total of one shocking premise that the audience will just go with you on because, hey, it's a genre story, them's table stakes. But you only get one.

For me, the Big Lie of this episode was that Kirk was lost and wandering around a completely empty Enterprise. That was disturbing enough. But then it turns out many of the assumptions we'd taken on faith as an audience were false and that just felt like being crudely manipulated. I watch shows to be manipulated, but I like it to feel earned, not like I'm being rushed from plot point to plot point, each more giddily hideous than the next. She's not just a fake damsel in distress, she's the weirdo ruler's daughter! And a national hero! And dying of some exotic disease! That she wanted! So they could cull their society like a dairyman shrinks his herd when the price of milk is down!

That's just too many additional premises in one story for me.

Even Spock is incredulous of this episode

I wish we'd kept the lens tightly on Kirk and the crew and the mysterious woman. I wish the weirdo ruler's throne room had given us a hint that claustrophobia was going to be the enemy of the day. And I wish we'd gotten more of the woman actress, she was doing so much with so little. I hope we see more of her.

Overall, this piece will be memorable for its premise and a few fine lines, but the execution was lacking.

2 stars.

How Crowded Is This Place?

by Erica Frank

Odona says, "There is no place, no street, no house, no garden, no beach, no mountain that is not filled with people." This sounds like the Earth of Harrison's Make Room! Make Room!: an overcrowded world, very little privacy, and extreme government measures to cope with the seemingly infinite population. (Can you imagine living on a planet with seven billion people, as we're expected to have on this planet by the year 2000?)

However, we get glimpses that imply it's worse than that. We are led to infer, from the masses of people in plain bodysuits visible behind the High Council room, that the planet is literally so crowded that they don't have space for a few rooms for office work. That aside from their fake Enterprise, there is no empty 20'-by-20' room on the planet.

The real question isn't "are there really that many people" but "why do they have a viewing window into the High Council room?"

I reject this notion. I believe Gideon is crowded, yes, but not that it's so packed that most adults spend their waking hours packed like sardines, slowly bumbling around in huge crowds.

If that were so, how would they even find space to make the fake Enterprise? What happened to the people displaced by it? No, while I can accept that Gideon is "full of people," I cannot believe they are literally shoulder-to-shoulder across the planet, nor even "…except for special cases" like childbirth and whatever space is needed to design and sew the High Council's uniforms.

Perhaps they're made of hexagons because they can be assembled by hand — no space for a sewing machine necessary.

Do the people have jobs? Families? How are children raised? How do they maintain a culture focused on the "love of life" if they are just walking around staring at nothing all day?

My answer: The people we see are probably tourists — visitors to the Capitol, hoping for a rare view of the Council chambers, which is separated by one-way glass. They may be required to keep moving; that gives everyone a chance to see the Council when the glass is raised, perhaps a few times a day.

This is a ridiculous conclusion, but the whole episode is ridiculous. A culture that refuses birth control on ethical grounds will use a fatal disease to cull their populace? How will they decide who to infect — will they be selected by computer and told to line up for it, as in A Taste of Armageddon? Or will they volunteer to die, these miserable people who reject diaphragms, IUDs, and condoms because life is too sacred to prevent?

The individual scenes of this episode were fascinating but the underlying story just doesn't add up. Two stars.

Old Fools

by Joe Reid

The story this week was about a people claiming to love life so much that they couldn't harm one another, and so long-lived that they developed an overpopulation problem. Overpopulation so severe as to cause them to lure a Starfleet captain who survived a deadly space disease to their planet to infect them with the pox. Why? Perhaps this seemed like the most interesting way to die? For people who love life their treatment of every life seemed to be just the opposite.

Let’s start off on the grand scale. Unlike most of the technically advanced races in the galaxy, the Gideonites lacked the most basic imagination when it came to needing more space. If there isn’t enough space where you are, go somewhere else and find some. Am I to believe that a people who could perfectly reproduce a spaceship as a ruse weren’t able to produce their own ships to take them to other planets to spread out? What weak imaginations these advanced humanoids must have had to not consider that most basic of solutions. During his career Kirk had been to dozens if not hundreds of worlds where a hardy race like the Gideonites could expand.

The next charge affirming the utter hypocrisy of the Gideonites had to do with how freely they lied. Although it might not be fair to lay this charge at the feet of all the people, their leaders certainly were not honest Abes. They lied about transport coordinates. The location of the captain. The girl lied about her origins, claiming to know nothing about Gideon. The entire fake ship was a lie. They only ever resorted to the truth after each specific lie was uncovered, and not a minute sooner. It might explain how these leaders came to power. Even in our world, you don’t come to power by telling the truth. It makes me wonder if the planet was even named Gideon, although saying, “welcome to the planet Marcus”, doesn’t quite roll off the tongue.

[Au contraire, mon ami. We've already had a planet Marcus 12 in "And the Children Shall Lead". If Odona emigrated from planet Gideon to planet Marcus 12, she'd be "Odona Gideon Marcus 12" (ed.)]

"Not only have we no space, but I am using the planet's only hairpiece!"

If they really did love life, it must only have been the lives of their own people. These Gideonites showed a complete lack of basic empathy for anyone who wasn’t them, for example, concocting a plan that lured an alien captain to their world to kidnap, imprison him, and bleed him dry. These actions sure sound out of character for the "lovers of life" they purport to be. In truth, the Gideonites were unimaginative in every sense of the word. Trapping their own people on a planet that can’t support them is evil for an advanced technical society. Using misdirection and bad faith negotiation tactics to carry out their shortsighted plan was contemptible. Making the incarceration and blood letting of an unsuspecting victim their plan to save a planet was morally bankrupt. Attempts by the leader's daughter to redeem their reputation by choosing to sacrifice herself in the end fell flat for me. There wasn’t enough good in the episode to salvage it from the bottom.

One star

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55 years ago: Science Fact and Fiction