by David Levinson

The Common Tongue

March 7th was the first Sunday of Lent. It's a particularly special event this year as Catholics can now hear mass in their local language, rather than Latin. Pope Paul VI marked the occasion by conducting services in Italian at a small church near the Vatican. Mass in the vernacular is not required, but it is encouraged. This is one of the reforms instituted last year as a way to get parishioners more involved in the Catholic faith.

In Living Color

Color television appears to be moving beyond the fad phase. And for that to happen the broadcasters and receivers need to “speak the same language.” The signal the antenna on your roof receives carries a lot of different information. Most of it tells the TV set how bright to make each phosphor dot, some of it tells the speaker what sound to make. The color information is a subset of the brightness information.

In the United States, a standard was developed about a decade ago by the National Television System Committee, commonly known by the committee’s initials, NTSC. It works pretty well, but under poor transmission conditions the colors can shift. (The joke among signal engineers is that NTSC stands for “Never the same color.”) Europe is subject to geographic and weather conditions which are bad for NTSC and so the governments of Western Europe have been looking for a new system better suited to Europe. Two have been developed: the French SECAM (Séquentiel couleur à mémoire or sequential color with memory) and the German PAL (Phased Alternating Line).

Rectangular screens. That’s a big improvement.

On March 22nd, the France announced that they had signed an agreement with the Soviet Union under which the Russians will use a slightly modified form of SECAM. Two days later, a conference opened in Vienna to discuss a common system for Western Europe. Ultimately, the conference chose PAL. The French however are sticking to their guns, so while most of Europe will be using PAL, France and the East Bloc will be going with SECAM. So much for commonality.

Speaking of Common

This month’s IF certainly delivers a heap of the familiar, from old, familiar faces to old, familiar themes.

Art by Schelling

When Is a Robot? (Editorial), by Frederik Pohl

Normally, we don’t discuss editorials here (and when it comes to Analog that’s better for everyone’s sanity and blood pressure), but Fred touches on an interesting, science fictional and probably controversial topic that’s worth examining. He’s been reading The Semi-Artificial Man by Harold M. Schmeck, which discusses the ways in which doctors are using machinery to temporarily replace the functions of various organs. The example Fred offers is the dialysis machine which does the work of the kidneys, but other examples would be the pacemaker or the heart-lung machine.

Right now, these devices are mostly poor and, at best, temporary substitutes. But what happens when they offer better functions than the organs they replace? Electronic lungs that can breathe seawater or the noxious gases of Jupiter. Or prosthetic limbs that can allow their wearer to run faster or lift heavy things. Pohl introduces the term “cybernetic organism” or cyborg for short. The question he asks is if someone equipped with such replacements might become something other than human. Is there a point at which you become something other than you as your parts are replaced? This is related to what is known in philosophy the Ship of Theseus problem. You might be more familiar with the Grandfather’s Axe: This is my grandfather’s axe; my father replaced the handle and I replaced the head. In any case, it’s an interesting area of speculation, and there are probably several good science fiction stories to be told dealing with this.  [Nick Chooper a.k.a. The Tin Woodman has thoughts on the matter, too. (Ed.)]

Raindrop, by Hal Clement

Raindrop is a ten mile wide sphere of water orbiting the Earth. It was created by melting comets. At its core, is a rocky asteroid and whatever solids may have been contained in the comets. The water is protected from the vacuum of space by a self-repairing skin of genetically tailored algae. Because it came from comets, the water currently has a fairly high concentration of ammonia, which is slowly being broken down by algae, fungi, and various single-celled organisms. The original purpose of Raindrop was to find a way to produce food to help feed the 14 billion people on Earth, who are slowly crowding out arable land and facing a Malthusian catastrophe.

Orbiting nearby is a wheel-shaped space station which rotates to provide gravity for the scientists who come up to study Raindrop. There is only one permanent resident, Bert Silbert, who monitors and maintains both the station and Raindrop.

As the story opens, Raindrop has been purchased by a private group and a high-ranking member of the group, Aino Weisenan, has arrived with his wife Brenda and assistant Bresnahan (who never gets a first name). Silbert is showing Bresnahan around the Raindrop, providing tons of exposition and a couple of lessons in orbital mechanics. We learn that the Weisenans have brought lots of equipment and macroscopic life and are planning to settle Raindrop. Ultimately, we learn that they and the group they represent are the descendants of people who were illegally genetically tailored to live in low and zero gravity conditions. Bresnahan starts an argument with his boss about abandoning the original purpose of Raindrop, and he and Silbert find themselves abandoned at the core.

Aino Weisenan sets an anchor. Art by John Giunta

If you’re at all familiar with the work of Hal Clement, you undoubtedly are expecting a happy ending, and you won’t be disappointed. This is a very typical Clement piece, centered on one or two scientific principles and turning them into the solution to a problem. Unusually, he does make a small scientific error. There are a number of cargo loads, each weighing 1000 pounds on Earth. In the extremely low gravity of Raindrop, they weigh only a few ounces each, and the men handle them easily. But Clement has forgotten the difference between mass and weight. Those loads might only weigh a few ounces, but they should still have the inertia of a thousand pounds. Anyway, if you like Clement – and I do – you should like this. Three stars.

Guesting Time, by R. A. Lafferty

People suddenly begin appearing all over the world. The rate at which they appear increases exponentially until there are 10 billion of them in just two days. According to the arrivals, they are from Skandia, and they are shocked and saddened to see how few of us there are. They also announce that they are a token force just here for a short visit and haven’t brought their children with them.

We see the effects of this invasion largely through the eyes of the suburban Trux family and President Bar-John. Whole cities are built in people’s backyards — so many they carpet the ground, vehicular traffic is blocked, and pedestrian traffic is stacked five high, with people riding on each other’s shoulders. They start handing our fertility charms to help us with our obvious problems in having children.

Through all of this, most people seem to really like the friendly Skandians. The few dissenters appear as cranks and street-corner preachers. Aside from those, only government leaders try to do anything about the Skandians, but the visitors prove to be impervious to bullets. After a week, they begin to disappear, but promise to come back next week with the kids.

Although this story shares the theme of overpopulation with the previous story, there’s certainly nothing common about R. A. Lafferty and the language he uses. He’s a very odd duck. Generally speaking his stories and the ways he tells them should not work, yet they do. Not always and not for everyone, but enough so that his stories sell. I tend to find him a bit hit or miss, and this one comes very close to being a miss for me. I think my biggest complaint is that an additional 10 billion people scattered all over the world aren’t going to produce conditions that make Calcutta look like Wyoming. You can put it down to typical Lafferty hyperbole, but it nagged at me. Three stars, but just barely.

Sign of the Wolf, by Fred Saberhagen

A shepherd lad by the name of Duncan is having trouble with a wolf attacking the village sheep which are in his care. He is also hoping to have a mystical experience, which would allow him to attain adulthood. Through his wandering thoughts we learn that people are said to have come here from Earthland, which is somewhere in the sky, though most consider that to be allegorical. That dawn, he sees a bright flash in the sky and hopes that it is his vision.

The scene switches to a Berserker entering a star system. It is wary, because it senses defensive satellites in orbit around one of the planets. They should not be a problem, but if there are also planetary defenses, it could be destroyed. These are things it has learned during the centuries that Berserker and humans have been at war. As a test, it launches a missile at the planet, where it is destroyed by the satellites.

Duncan learns from a passing priest that too many people saw the flash for it to count as a private vision. Later he is visited by Colleen, a girl from his village. She stays too long and, after leaving Duncan, returns to him, because she can’t get home before dark. During her absence, Duncan has begun to hear voices from the ground, but following them would mean abandoning the sheep. Her return allows him to follow the voices to an unknown cave, where they are announcing that an attack is in progress and requesting a human to give “Order One.” Duncan’s response resolves the story.

This is interspersed with more scenes involving the Berserker. It continues to be wary, but remembers one other planet which had defensive satellites but no cities or radio, because the life there had gone to war with itself. Eventually, it sends down robotic units to begin eliminating life.

Saberhagen continues to keep these Berserker stories diverse and about a lot more than just killing machines and space battles. They’re about people. The parallels here between the wolf and the Berserker are pretty obvious, but they aren’t too heavy-handed. Indeed, Saberhagen handles it all with a fair amount of skill. A high three stars, with the obviousness of the parallel keeping it from that fourth star.

Way Station, by Irving E. Cox, Jr.

At Marstation, teacher Bruce Haywood is on trial for heresy against Orthodox Science. He has been telling his charges that it is safe to leave the airseal dome without a sacred helmet when performing the routines and rituals of the landing field. Through the trial, we get the story of his life through flashbacks. As a boy, he learned that the girders of the dome have neither glass nor an atomic energy field between them. As a student, he was allowed to read the actual works of St. Einstein and St. Darwin. In the end, he is cast out of the dome, though perhaps not to the fate he fears.

Honestly, this is the least ugly of the illustrations for this story. Art by Nodel

Irving Cox turned out quite a few stories during the 50s, averaging four or five a year. Most of them were sold to the lesser mags, but he had a few in Astounding and IF as well. His work has tapered off in the last few years, but he was never the sort of writer that would make you wonder “What ever happened to…?” A journeyman at best, and this continues that trend. Thing is, if you’re going to give your story the same name as last year’s Hugo-winning novel, then you had better hit a home run. At best, this is a bouncing single that got through because the shortstop was out of position. It’s not terrible, but I can’t find my way to giving it more than a high two stars. Maybe I was put off by the hideous art.

Strong Current, by David Goodale

Scout Ship 1014 is forced to make an emergency landing on the planet Toran. The three-man crew is barely able to escape the ship with a few supplies before it explodes. They know that the planet is inhabited, but the rest of the information was lost in the crash. They make their way to a coastal city, only to find it empty and its streets flooded. There don’t appear to be any ground-level doors, and there are a number of metal rods sticking out of the buildings, each of which gives off a strong electrical shock. Once they make their way into a building through the roof, they find many more metallic objects which give off shocks. Eventually, the youngest member of the crew figures things out, enabling them to make contact with the locals and to get in touch with the nearest base.

Goodale is this month’s new author, and he gives us a pretty good problem story, of the sort you might expect to find in Analog. In fact, I wondered why I wasn’t reading it there. Then I realized that 1) the person who solves the problem is a slender Asian, not one of the two brawny men of northern European extraction, and 2) the aliens are friendly, competent, and engage with the humans as equals. In any case, it’s a good story marred only by the author capping it off with a not very funny gag. A solid three stars.

The Altar at Asconel (Part 2 of 2), by John Brunner

When last we left our “heroes,” teenage mutant telepath Eunora was threatening to bend everybody to her will. Turns out she can’t. Not for any special reason. She just doesn’t have the power, which, frankly, is a rather poor resolution to a decent cliffhanger. In any case, Spartak then mentally browbeats her with the state she was in when she came aboard and all the awful things she would have to do in order to maintain her control if she had it. There’s that wonderful non-violence again. Vineta then takes over the girl and mothers her into joining their group and their cause.

Off they go to Asconel, deciding to bypass the resistance ensconced on an outer world of the star system. They land in secret on a small island, the only city of which has a temple to Belizuek, disguise themselves, and head for town. The brothers are distressed to see how far society has regressed in just a few years. We’re talking very far, from high-tech to pre-industrial, which seems like it ought to have taken decades.

Their entire plan consists of going to the local temple in order to find out why people have been so easily won over. During services they are exposed to a psychic vision of the galaxy and a mind of immense power. Spartak seems to have succumbed, but he’s just lost in thought about what he’s seen. Afterwards, they make contact with a man by the name of Tharl. By good luck and happenstance, he had served under Vix and has resisted Belizuek, because his wife and child were the first in their town to give themselves up for whatever unspeakable purpose people are being taken.

Spartak takes readings of the temple and discovers that the inner dome holds an atmosphere unlike that which humans can breathe. Unfortunately, they are caught. Spartak and Eunora escape, but Vineta is wounded and Vix and Tiorin are captured. A ceremony where they will willingly give themselves to Belizuek in the grand temple in the capital is announced and Spartak hatches a plan (involving, naturally, somebody else doing something violent) to free them and the rest of Asconel. Thanks to luck and coincidence, it succeeds.

In the end, Tiorin is the new Warden of Asconel. Spartak is planning to go out to the Big Dark, where humans are said to be building their own spaceships. Eunora will accompany him. Vix, unable to stay on the world where Vineta died, offers his ship and his services as pilot.

A montage of the heroes and villains. Art by Gray Morrow

It’s all really just fair to middling space opera. Not as much coincidence and excessive exposition as in the first installment, but some. There were also some dropped plot threads, like the injunction on Spartak to avoid violence and the loyal resistance on the outer planet. Neither really served any purpose in the story. I think I was most annoyed by the death of Vineta, more so because it happened off screen, so to speak. And apparently it was just so Vix would have a reason to go off with Spartak at the end.

I gave the first half a grudging three stars, and this half is better that the first, so I guess it gets three stars as well, as does the story as a whole. I’d probably feel less reluctant about that rating if this had been written by someone else. C. C. MacApp or J. T. McIntosh, for example. Brunner is a much better writer than this hackneyed stuff, and he fails to elevate it to something more. Alas, it seems like he has more of this story to tell.

Summing Up

A bit of a mixed bag of common elements this month: authors who’ve been around for a while, authors who are still fairly new, but have made names for themselves; two stories about overpopulation, two about societies that have lost their technological capabilities (two-and-a-half, if you count Asconel), a good, old problem story. It’s not as bad as last month, but it wasn’t that long ago that IF was one of the best magazines out there.

Speaking of space opera…

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We had so much success with our first episode of The Journey Show (you can watch the kinescope rerun; check local listings for details) that we're going to have another one on April 11 at 1PM PDT with The Young Traveler as the special musical guest.  As the kids say, be there or be square!