There are all kinds of science fiction stories. Some explore the human condition, prioritizing people and how they might be affected by emerging technologies. Others are space or planetary adventures, utilizing an exotic locale as backdrop for classic derring-do.
Analog (formerly Astounding) has always emphasized technological pieces. They are stories of gadgets, of scientific implementations, not people. Even better is when the story underscores the libertarian, rather reactionary politics of one editor John W. Campbell Jr.
Sometimes, a skilled writer can get a story into Campbell's mag without that kind of tale. In this issue, virtually none of them did…
The issue at hand
by Kelly Freas
Secret Weapon, by Joseph P. Martino
The interstellar war against the Arcani is going badly. Now that the Terrans have doubled their Patrol Corvette fleet, suddenly their losses have quadrupled. Somehow, the alien enemy is tracking down their gravitational signatures as they zoom through their patrol lanes at four times the speed of light–and even when the human crews manage to intercept the enemy warships, somehow they elude destruction.
Two ships are dispatched to find the answer to this crisis, equipped with a new nucleonic clock that allows the ships to communicate even at superluminary speeds. Now they can cover each other in case of attack. When attack inevitably comes, they discover the secret to the enemy's success.
Joe Martino probably enjoyed writing this novella, and John Campbell obviously enjoyed reading this novella, so I suppose the story must be called some kind of success. However, if you don't enjoy things that read like the centerfold to a particularly dry issue of Popular Gravitics, I suggest you give this one a skip. This probably could have been a great novel, with time devoted to, you know, characters and prose, as opposed to a thinly dressed up engineering problem whose solution is implied to be beyond the comprehension of the alien foe.
Two stars.
Handyman, by Jack Wodhams
by Leo Summers
A married couple, trapped on a muddy world with virtually no trappings of civilization, try to make even the most basic rudiments of technology to ease their plight. Eventually, they figure out how to make ceramics, and when a rescue party finally appears, they are now happy to stay on their private world and even to start an export trade of their new kind of china. Chalk up a win for enforced entrepreneurialism!
I kept waiting for Wodhams to explain how the planet-wrecked pair figured out how to make their ceramic, given that all the ways that didn't work were so lovingly detailed.
Still, the story is at least readable. A low three stars.
Phantasmaplasmagoria, by Herbert Jacob Bernstein
by Kelly Freas
According to the scientists, power from nuclear fusion, harnessing the union of hydrogen atoms to produce boundless electricity, is just twenty years away. This story details the meandering road to the technology's serendipitous development.
It's a silly piece, and I'm not sure who thought it a good idea to put a fourth of the story in endnotes that one has to constantly refer to. They aren't worth the pay-off.
A hay fever drug has the unfortunate side effect of making everyone extra-friendly. Society breaks down as folks would rather kibbitz than work.
It says something about Analog and its editor's beliefs that too much friendliness will obviously lead to economic ruin, as opposed to increased efficiency through greater cooperation. Call me crazy, but I work better when I like my co-workers.
Anyway, this is another "funny" piece by Anvil for Campbell, and it's as good as you'd expect it to be.
Two stars.
Incorrigible, by John T. Phillifent
by Leo Summers
A naval officer is up for treason, having facilitated the transfer of technical knowledge to the Drekk, potentially Earth's most dangerous foe. The implacable lizards, inhabitant of a Venus-type planet (nicknamed "Wet" for its torrid, humid conditions) are incredibly quick studies, and interstellar spaceflight is only a few developments away.
But, the officer notes, at the end of a very long dialogue with his attorney (the sole point of which is to build to the punchline conclusion) the information leak was ultimately to humanity's benefit. For it involves the ability to teleport water, which the Drekk will use to colonize the nearby planet, "Dry". And once enough mass is teleported from Wet, the core will explode, destroying the evil aliens.
Well.
I can't imagine this is particularly sound science, this notion that Venus-type planets are at a critical point such that the lost of a few million tons of water can destabilize them, especially coming from a fellow who still characterizes Venus as "wet" five years after Mariner 2. That notwithstanding, I might have been more tolerant, given the decent writing in this piece, if the author (under his pseudonym) had not used the exact same gimmick to end his recent novel, Alien Sea!
Jason dinAlt's adventures appear to have come to an end with this third Deathworld novel. By the end of the story, the Pyrran city has been destroyed by the planet, the horse barbarians of Felicity have been defeated, and Meta and Jason have finally professed their love for one another.
How is Temuchin, highest chief of the Felicitan nomads defeated? After Jason is found out for the outworlder he is, the barbarian tosses him into a deep pit to die. Instead, Jason finds his way through a maze of caves, discovering a passage from the frozen steppes to the rich lowlands. All other methods of toppling Temuchin having failed, Jason tells the warlord the secret of the caves so that the barbarians can finally conquer the whole continent.
Almost immediately, Temuchin realizes his victory is really defeat, for taking all the cities means the inevitable death of the nomad way of life. The nomads collapse within weeks, and the Pyrrans set up shop.
There are a lot of problems with this book. Temuchin is supposed to be this awful, violent savage for slaughtering foreign invaders, and for wanting to take out the lowlanders. Does this justify the Pyrrans in killing and facilitating the killing of far more people than Temuchin ever could have managed on his own?
Beyond that, the historical "lesson" at the end of the story is specious. Sure, the Chinese sinicized the Mongols, but not all of them, and not in a matter of weeks. And as for the Goths and Huns (also cited), the former were invited to settle the Roman Empire rather than becoming Roman after conquering, while the Huns were simply defeated in fight after fight.
Thus, I find Jason's actions and motivations more ruthless and inhuman than Temuchin's; they are also out of keeping with the peacenik environmental message so beautifully expressed in Deathworld.
All that said, there's no question that Harrison is a terrific writer (he almost makes you accept the unrealistic extents to which Jason pushes his body). I turned to this serial first each of the last three months, and I finished each installment in a sitting. As a result, while I give this segment three stars, and even though I find the premise repugnant, I still am giving the novel as a whole three and a half stars.
Local Effect, by D. L. Hughes
by Leo Summers
An alien space drive discarded near Earth's moon has drastic effects on human scientific development. It turns out that the speed of light is not a constant…except around Earth. Thus, Einstein's theory of relativity only describes a local phenomenon, not the universe as a whole. Alien anthropologists from a faraway star survey humanity and note this local aberration with interest.
This is an interesting premise, but Hughes, knowing his audience (a certain editor named Campbell), turns it into an anti-scientific-establishment polemic, noting that, if only humans were a little more broad minded, they might not have gotten stuck in their rut. After all, how dare we assume that the rules that hold locally apply to the whole universe?
Except, of course, that is the very soul of the scientific method. Moreover, observations this century make it clear that relativity does hold throughout the universe–as early as 1919, just four years after the publication of General Relativity, light was seen to have been deflected around the sun's gravity well, pursuant to theory.
This could have been a fascinating story of aliens assuming that all beings should follow an "obvious" course of scientific development, deluded by their own understanding of all the facts. Instead, we get…this.
Two stars.
Doing the math
If it's a race to the bottom, Analog has won handily, scoring just 2.3 stars this month. This accomplishment is all the more sad when one realizing that this is a better score than it got last month!
Women penned just 4% of the new fiction this month, and even with all the issues of Famous (lumped due to logistics into this one month), there was still only 2.5 to 3 issues' worth of superior stuff.
I guess we'll see if the Pohl mags continue to reign, or if all fortunes oscillate. I think it's safe to say, though, that Analog could definitely use a loosening of its editorial prescriptions. Hope springs eternal!
Quick recap, then. You might remember that last time I said that I thought that New Worlds and its editor Mike Moorcock were pushing boundaries, although I did say that this was not new and actually has been going on for a while.
Well, it now seems that people who don’t normally take an interest in such things have suddenly become aware.
With the last issue, newsagents W. H. Smith and Sons, Britain’s biggest newspaper and magazine vendor, in collaboration with John Menzies, refused to distribute the magazine on the grounds of ‘obscenity and libel’. The national newspapers here have got hold of this story and talked of W. H. Smith’s ‘ban’.
It's not actually clear what in the issue is obscene and libellous – I'm thinking that it'll probably be the sex in Bug Jack Barron, although the mind-rape poem for me was particularly unpleasant. But I guess that it'll be Moorcock off to court to defend the magazine.
It is possible that such a raised awareness of interest might improve sales, if only for a little while. (Remember the fuss over 'Lady Chatterley's Lover'? ) “No publicity is bad publicity”, so the saying goes. But this does assume that buyers can get hold of the issues in the first place.
This may then affect the production of future issues. Obviously, I will let you know more as and when I hear it.
The “What-Used-to-be-Editorial” has lots of in-house stuff this month. As well as writing about the authors and artists in this month’s magazine (Butterworth, Disch, Koutroubousis), it also brings readers up to speed with what’s been going on – namely that in the last twelve months there’s been the loss of the publisher and the Arts Council grant. The magazine is surviving on £400 per month, but promises a bigger issue with colour next month. There’s new staff too, in the persons of James Sallis (mentioned last month) as fiction editor, Douglas Hill as associate editor, and Diane Lambert in charge of publicity. (Does this explain the lack of nakedness on the cover this month? Possibly. We’re almost back to those strangely obscure covers of the Carnell era!) Big plans, but let’s see what happens.
Dr. Gelabius by Hilary Bailey
The welcome return of Hilary as a fiction writer, whose duties of late have been more to do with editing New Worlds than writing stories.
Dr. Gelabius is some strange Frankenstein-ian story of a scientist disposing of a set of foetuses before being shot and killed by an irate mother. Comments about evil scientists, abortion and the death of Science no doubt go here. It’s short, and wants to shock.
Unfortunately, its brevity makes it feel as if it is part of a story rather than a self-contained narrative. I don’t think that it is Hilary’s best. The fact that the artwork for this dates back to 1964 suggests that this one’s been lying dormant for a while – filler from the slush pile, perhaps. 3 out of 5.
1-A by Thomas M. Disch
And now on to the return of another recent stalwart. 1-A is an anti- military story. The Lead-In suggests that the story is based on Disch’s bad military experiences whilst briefly in the US Army, and as stories go, I must admit that it doesn’t show the US military training in a positive light. Quite deliberately polemic. In style and tone it reminded me a lot of Camp Concentration, which it pales against, frankly, but it still gets its anti-war message across, even when the characters seem to be outlandish caricatures and their action nonsensical.
As the magazine is now being sold in the US, this seems to be deliberately provocative, as an attack on bravery, courage and also unthinking behaviour – and interesting in context, especially with the recent publication in the US of those lists of authors for and against the ongoing Vietnam War. 3 out of 5.
As we’re now on part 4 – the extract begins with Chapter Eight – this may not be the best place to begin this story, despite their being a whole page summarising what has gone on before.
This time Barron confronts Benedict Howards, the powerful owner of the Foundation for Human Immortality, on his television show. Using the phrase “Deathbed is go” Barron sets up a situation live on television where Delores Pulaski begs for Harold Lopat, her critically ill and dying father, to be cryogenically frozen. After the advert break, Jack, in a gesture reminiscent of the Roman Emperors, then puts Howards on the spot live on air whether Lopat lives or dies.
Howards is savaged by Barron’s rhetoric, but off the air they agree for Barron to back off from giving Howards a killer blow in return for future covert discussion. Later, Barron refuses another request from Green to stand for the SJC. The next day Barron agrees to meet Howards face-to-face in his office, when Howards offers Jack and Sara free Freezer contracts in return for public support.
Later, after Howards then tries to blackmail Sara, she tells Barron about the deal with Howards that she made.
This part seems a little more sedate than the overheated sexual escapades of the last issue. But whilst I admit that the repartee is clever and the ranting impressive, the whole part feels bloated and just too long – behind all of the anger, it seems to take a LONG time to go anywhere.
Will it win more readers? Probably not. But I must admit that after four issues I’d like to see how this ends, even if I feel that the story should have finished by now. 3 out of 5.
Article: The Mechanical Hypnotist by Dr. John Clark
Article time. Dr. John Clark tells us about hypnotism and how being the non-participant observer has improved his study. It was quite hard going to read, although quite interesting. I seem to remember Brian W. Aldiss’s Report on Probability Aback in the March 1967 issue using such a technique, or at least discussing using such a technique.
Weather Man by James Sallis and David Lunde
And following on from a discussion on observational techniques, we have a story that is about observation. Weather man reports events such as the weather on a day when the reporter/observer watches a young lady from afar, then a storm, before things return to normal, although the effect on the young woman seems to suggest that there is more than meets the eye happening here.
Written in a lyrical stream-of-consciousness, it is not quite poetry and not-really-narrative. At least it is linear in presentation! Seeing as how Sallis has now become ‘Associate Editor’, I suspect we’re going to see more of this style of story in the future. 3 out of 5.
The Man Who Was Dostoevsky by Leo Zorin
And talking of observational reportage… new author Zorin describes events in that detached-observer mode we have already spoken of, as seen by ‘ Word System Number One’. He describes his surroundings and elements of his earlier life – his sister, his lover, a professor – in short, clipped sentences, such as ‘He drinks coffee.’
The kick is that it is revealed over the length of the story that the narrator is in some short of shock after events in some sort of post-apocalyptic world. The phrases and statements given in such an understated manner mean that the awful events described – talk of sex and penises, rape and murder – are designed to shock. Better than I thought it was at first going to be. 3 out of 5.
OK. So, I guess that the joke here is probably that regular readers will know that the so-called ‘New Wave’ often looks at fiction in new forms. This ‘story’ by Sladek is set out on the page as a blank test paper, to be completed. It’s a new form – get it?
Whilst what is required in order to answer the paper becomes increasingly surreal and nonsensical, that’s about as good as it gets. Novelty rather than gravity, but it at least makes a point. 3 out of 5.
Concentrate 2 by Michael Butterworth
After Concentrate 1 (published in the New Worlds of August 1967), we now get Concentrate 2. It rather defies description (of course!), but it is another story a la J. G. Ballard that’s cut up into sections. (I’ve heard a rumour that Ballard was involved in editing this down from longer works, which would make sense.)
The allegory, for what it’s worth, seems to involve God-like creativity and chaos. Really though, it is little more than what we’ve had before – lyrical prose, designed to shock with its talk of sex, ‘niggers’ and religion. Graphic imagery and violence, all trying to mean more than it does.
To be fair, Butterworth’s stories and poetry have a lot of fans, including Moorcock. Unfortunately, I’m just not one of them. Rather than being innovative and interesting, this was tiresome for me. 2 out of 5.
The Valve Transcript by Joel Zoss
As the title suggests, this is a tale in the form of a transcript about an incident involving the fixing of a valve on an underground pipe. It’s dangerous work, costly to suspend but well paid. All seems rather mundane and low-key in conversational prose. Really not sure what its point is, which may be the point! The reason why the author's name is emblazoned on the front cover of the issue is a mystery to me – like the Bailey story, earlier, this one feels like filler. 2 out of 5.
Article – The 77th Earl – A review of Titus Groan by Mervyn Peake by Langdon Jones
Langdon Jones continues to herald Meryvn Peake’s work (see also the article in New Worlds October 1967). This time Jones is concentrating on the first book in the Gormenghast series, Titus Groan, with a little mention of Peake’s book for children, Captain Slaughterboard Drops Anchor, all of which are being published or republished.
I must admit that for me Peake’s work still impresses, with Jones’s analysis doing a good job of illustrating the key elements of Peake’s prose, and some of Peake’s accompanying artwork quite chilling. Reading this reminded me further that part of Langdon Jones’s own story published last month, The Hall of Machines may have been inspired by Peake’s work. 4 out of 5.
Book Reviews – From The Outside In by James Sallis
And in the absence of poetry, we have reviews of poetry – four books of poetry and two novels reviewed by Sallis this month, none of which are genre. Despite Sallis’s attempts to persuade me of the poetry’s beauty, I remain stubbornly unmoved.
Summing up New Worlds
Is it me or does this issue feel a little less manic than the last? Are we in a holding pattern whilst new boys Sallis and Hill find their feet?
Whilst there are elements that still try to push people’s buttons, my general impression of this issue is that it feels relatively safe. There’s no cut up art shenanigans from Charles Platt, and although we have more poetic allegory, there is no poetry. The what-now-seems-typical use of shock language, usually to do with sex, race and religion, is included, but the overall cumulative effect seems to lessen the impact of such violent, unpleasant words.
Similarly, we have a lot of New Worlds regulars, with some new names, admittedly, and whilst some of the topics (Disch’s anti-war rant) and the language (see Bug Jack Barron) may still be controversial, much of the material actually doesn’t feel like anything new.
We have two pieces that feel like they’re there to fill up space, the Peake article is on an author we’ve seen before, the Disch just reads like an extension of the ideas in Camp Concentration to me, and the Butterworth a less worthy imitation of Ballard.
As shown by those middle-score marks out of 5 throughout, this issue may not be as much of a scandal as some might think the magazine could (or should!) be. Whilst it is perhaps a good summary of where New Worlds is at today, despite protests to the contrary this issue seems to push fewer of those boundaries.
Recently I found myself reading Vogue, as I often do in the spring, to surmise the direction of fashion for the coming year. March’s issues did not disappoint in providing a vibrant view of the year to come in mainstream fashion. I speak primarily of its frivolity and lack of connection to the state of the world.
Mr. Dino brings in the summer with a "brisk ambassa-dress", a play on the word "ambassador", decorated in stately medals and ribbons of honor to invoke patriotic hopefulness in womenswear, Vogue, March 1968.
It’s apparent to me that womenswear this spring has a singular purpose in creating an escape from the tensions of politics and war. Vogue explores this through romanticizing the ancient empires of the Mediterranean – a common escape during times of uncertainty – and crewing the ship of our adventures.
Perhaps you've read that sentence twice, so let me set the scene for you and expand upon my findings. Many fashions this spring follow one of two roads. Firstly, a romanticization of the past through modern resort prints and silk taffeta skirts. Secondly, a sleek uniform style inspired by the Mod movement, but specifically naval in aesthetic that lends itself to our obsession with the classics. Combined, these two modes of fashion suggest that women this year are both the vehicles of escapism and the destination.
Above is a beautiful example of romanticization of the past with details in both mens and womenswear indicating details of Napoleon's army. He invaded several regions, including Egypt, one of the three classical empires in Western philosophy. Note the beaded cuff in a chevron to mimic that of an admiral, the jeweled buttons, and silver damask waistcoat, all of which mimic court dress of the French Empire in the early nineteenth century.
By comparison, the Mod and Space Age movements have evolved into a nautical theme this year with navy and white being the dominant color palette. Note the mantle in worsted crepe with Brandenburg braiding, the wide white belt with a rectangular buckle that mimics formal naval uniforms, and a pervasive use of white gloves all across womenswear, also indicative of formal military etiquette. The Contessa outfit to the right jaunts the hat to the side and sports chevron-detailed pockets indicative of infantry troops. Please also take a glance at the pillars at her back, which happen to be Egyptian in origin.
Another fascinating interpretation of our frivolous escapism this season is Estee Lauder's advertisement of crème makeup (left), in which the ensemble is made of chiffon and lost amongst the wallpaper, and Valentino (right). His ensemble here is quite a curious combination of a silk organza blouse with a sailor's collar paired with silverleaf shorts derived from statues of Greek archers and pottery.
Advertisements for The Wet Set by Hanes and Berkshire's Miracle Fibers. Both of these advertisements were accompanied by cosmetics that prided themselves on softness and transparency.
Much to my surprise, every page in this spring’s issues is dedicated to the delicacy and girlishness of women rather than our evolving brand of sharp intellectualism and keen pursuits. Even our undergarments have taken on the look of water, iridescent like velvet, advertised to invoke the sea. These liquid nylons are soft and transparent, two traits many of the fashions this spring strive for in their customers. Bold strokes in Vogue have been abandoned in opposition to the youth movements that so loudly defy long-held traditions and establishments of power. As a result of this feud, I find us returning to a dichotomy as old as time: the bold, intellectual woman and the more favorable docile lady.
There was no advertisement more en pointe than Van Raalte, which says of its sleepwear, "Beneath an air of independence: little girl sleepers."
Though the styles presented upon the main stage of fashion across Europe and New York are modern, beautiful, and tailored to perfection, I wonder… Is this how women view themselves in our age? I’m inclined to disagree with the ancient gods of couture this year, and I suspect that young women in particular resent being depicted as new mothers and home decor. I’m curious to see how women use their voices in the coming months, and to what end. How will they be viewed? How will we judge them? My expectation is that if major fashion publications continue this trend, there will be a stark divide amongst women, just as there was during the Suffrage Movement at the turn of the century. While soft-spoken, mannerly women will be seen as beautiful and proper, those holding picket signs will be viewed as ugly and brash.
The homefront war is just beginning…
[Want to discuss the evolving culture of 1968? Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge!]
In the first season of Star Trek, we saw the crew visit plenty of “strange new worlds”. From the rocky planet where they met The Man Trap to the caves of The Devil in the Dark to the green and deceptively-pleasant planet This Side of Paradise, they took us to places we’d never been and introduced us to thoughtful, interesting ideas. Even when sets were more familiar locales (Miri, Tomorrow is Yesterday, and The City on the Edge of Forever come to mind) the stories were usually fresh and interesting.
In the second half of the second season, we’ve been seeing a new trend, perhaps based on ideas first introduced in “Miri”: planets which have, for one reason or another, evolved to look almost exactly like Earth at some point in history. A Piece of the Action took us to Prohibition-era Chicago. Patterns of Force brought the crew to Nazi Germany. And this week’s episode took us to a ‘modernized’ version of ancient Rome.
The story opens with the Enterprise seeking out the survivors from a ship that was hit by a meteorite six years ago. They track the trajectory of the debris back to a planet and Kirk, Spock, and McCoy beam down to seek out any survivors. They immediately encounter a group of escaped slaves, members of a sun-worshiping cult, who agree to help them. Before they manage to get near the city, though, they are captured and imprisoned. They’re greeted by Merik, the captain of the lost vessel and now “First Citizen”, and Proconsul Claudius Marcus, who knows much more than he should about who they are and why they’re there.
Claudius tries to force Captain Kirk to call down the crew of his ship. When Kirk refuses, Claudius orders Spock and McCoy thrown into the ‘arena’ for a televised battle. The set is a fun merging of modern culture and ancient Roman aesthetics. As Kirk watches with helpless frustration, Spock unwillingly fights against the gladiator assigned to him while McCoy is fortunately assigned Flavius, a “Brother of the Sun” who tries to refuse violence, even as he is “encouraged” to fight by a guard wielding a whip. The “Amok Time” fight theme is well-integrated here, and it makes for an exciting scene. In the end Spock defeats his opponent and rescues McCoy by giving Flavius a Vulcan neck pinch to knock him out.
Spock and McCoy are returned to their cell, where Spock visibly agonizes over their separation, repeatedly trying the bars and looking for a way out. McCoy sheepishly tries to thank Spock for saving his life, which Spock responds to with replies clearly meant to needle and annoy the good doctor. It’s nice to see their roles reversed for once, with Spock doing the deliberate antagonizing. McCoy responds by getting in Spock’s face and hissing out a pointed jab at Spock’s vulnerabilities. Spock’s quiet response, which manages to combine acknowledgement and defiance in two words and a lifted eyebrow, is a work of art. This is my favorite scene in the episode, and one of my favorite scenes in all of Star Trek so far. All of the ‘old married couple’ arguing and mutual antagonism we’ve seen in prior episodes between the ‘heart’ and ‘mind’ of the Enterprise come together to shape this moment of intense intimacy.
Meanwhile, Kirk is brought to a luxurious bedchamber and offered the use of an eager female slave. He doesn’t refuse.
Ah, there's Roddenberry's influence
Claudius returns to Kirk a few hours later in a rather nice transition and tells him he is to be executed on national television. Scotty, who has not been idle on the Enterprise, delivers a careful blow to the city’s electrical system, blacking everything just long enough for Kirk to get away and return to the prison (where he tells his two officers that their captors ‘threw him a few curves’, haha). Merick redeems himself by tossing Kirk a communicator, and the three men beam back to the Enterprise in the nick of time, leaving the Roman planet behind.
Credit where it's due–the escape scene is masterful
And so it’s all over but the shouting, or rather, the final pun: the sun worshippers don’t worship the sun, they worship the son – as in, the son of god. Cue smiles from some of the Christians in the audience and an eyeroll or two from the Jewish and non-religious viewers.
Did I like this episode? There were many things to like, starting with the scene between McCoy and Spock, which is a five if taken by itself. There were definitely some things to dislike, such as the ‘sun/son’ setup and Kirk’s unhesitating willingness to take advantage of the attractive female slave offered to him. Overall, though, the cinematography, use of library music, and use of sets and props was a cut above the usual. The episode was well-paced and exciting, and Shatner’s acting was more understated than usual. Despite a couple of things dragging it down, I give it four stars.
The Unbroken Planet
by Joe Reid
We tend to think of heroes as powerful people who use their powers to right the wrongs of the world. Star Trek has provided us with heroes that always right wrongs. When Jim Kirk gets to a new world and finds something amiss, he will do everything possible to make sure that baddies are struck down and peace is restored. This has been especially true when the cause of the disturbance on a planet was a human, or even worse… a Klingon! This season we had two examples of Starfleet people purposefully taking control of native populations for their own benefit. In “Patterns of Force”, John Gill literally turned the inhabitants of one planet into Nazis in order to “help” them. Then, in “The Omega Glory”, we had Ron Tracey ruling over one faction of humans to eradicate another in order to gain immortality. Both stories took place on Earth-like planets which boasted histories divergent from our own. Each story ended with Captain Kirk dealing with the corrupting influence and setting the cultures back on course.
This week’s “Bread and Circuses” started off much the same as the mentioned episodes. Some Starfleet person was stuck on a very Earth-like planet with a divergent history. The crew had a similar obligation as before; to get the space people off the planet before they ruin the people of that world and pervert their development. Here is where the similarities end. “Bread and Circuses” turns that recurrent theme on its ear. Instead of the inhabitants of a planet having to contend with a strong and smart human dominating them, this time it was the weak human, Captain Merik of the SS Beagle, who was dominated by the strong and intelligent Proconsul Marcus. Marcus overpowered Merik’s mind and will, causing him to sacrifice most of his crew to gladiatorial games in order to save himself.
Puppet and master
Previous episodes on this theme had Kirk seeking to find an alien titan like himself and remove them from power. This world already had a home-grown titan, who corrupted and broke the man Kirk was looking for. There was nothing for Kirk to set right on this world. The humans were the victims, not the victimizers this time. Kirk found himself outmatched by Proconsul Marcus. He was captured, threatened, and made powerless by Marcus, just like Merik was before, although Kirk put up more of a fight than Merik did, earning some degree of respect from Marcus. Marcus was eventually going to break him, as well, given enough time. The mission ended with Kirk, Spock, and McCoy fleeing for their lives and Merik dying from a knife to his back after a last-minute act of failed heroism.
This was the one time where the captain of the Enterprise could not fix the problem on a world. It’s mainly because there was no problem to fix, at least none that he was legally allowed to fix. The society on the planet was progressing down its natural evolutionary path. Human intervention didn't topple the wagon. Humans ended up run over by the wagon, which carried on unabated. “Bread and Circuses” had a subversive twist on what had preceded it in the other episodes. It felt original, even though some themes started off appearing reused before the twist came about. In total, the costumes, acting, sets, camera work, and story were all done well. It was pretty good.
4 stars
Don't throw back the throwback
by Gideon Marcus
David Levinson, who tends to write letters in after the fact rather than contribute directly to our Trek coverage, noted recently that he was starting not to care if the show got renewed for a third season. We had run into a pretty dire patch of episodes, after all. But between last week and this week, his faith is somewhat restored.
Mine, too. I observed early on that "Bread and Circuses" felt more like a first-season episode than any of its second-season brethren. Perhaps it was the copious use of outdoor settings, or Shatner's return to first season form. Maybe it was Ralph Senensky's crisp direction (he may well supplant Marc Daniels as my favorite on the show). Maybe it was the collaboration of the two Genes, Roddenberry and Coon, who reeled in each other's excesses rather than adding to them.
I also absolutely adored the fusion of gladiatorial games and modern television. It was subtle satire in the Sheckley or even Pohl/Kornbluth vein.
Not much different from a boxing match or football game
The one missed opportunity was setting the planet on a near-Earth rather than an exact duplicate, a la "Miri." I've always liked Lorelei's idea that the galaxy is largely populated by Earth-clones (for some unknown reason) and that's why we get these close parallel history episodes. Having a completely different planet evolve humans, let alone 20th Century Romans, beggared the imagination.
On the other hand, as our newcomer, Blue Cathey-Thiele explains, maybe it's not so implausible after all…
Four stars on my end. There are some hiccoughs in the episode, but they're lumped early on, and you've forgotten them by the conclusion.
Bread, Circuses, and Laurel Leaves
By Mx. Blue Cathey-Thiele
In "Bread and Circuses", McCoy comments that the Romans had no sun worshippers. He may need to brush up on his history – or even just ship logs! Earlier this season in "Who Mourns For Adonais", the crew met Apollo on Pollux IV, and while many Roman deities shared traits but not names with their Greek counterparts, the god of music and the sun was known as Apollo to both cultures.
And this raises an interesting question: could the wayward god have stopped over at this planet on his way to Pollux IV? It would go a long way in explaining its many similarities to both modern and ancient Earth. Whether he visited alone or with the rest of his pantheon, his powers would have been enough to leave a lasting impression. A world built to suit the needs of a deity who thrived in Greece and Rome close to two millennia ago, by the time the Enterprise shows up. In fact, a better question might be, why would Apollo ever leave?
Perhaps it was not him, but one of his cohort. He was the last of his kind, and while he said that gods do not die the way mortals do, they fade. Per his account, one of the goddesses spread herself thinner and thinner until she was gone. Could some part of her have found this world and influenced its development? Remained there as things like the industrial revolution came along, the invention of television, while her diminished presence ensured that the Roman Empire kept a firm grip on society?
The ex-senator explains why he no longer worships Apollo
The inhabitants even spoke English! Having a lingual origin of Latin would greatly increase the chances of a language developing with even a slight similarity to the form of English currently spoken. Who better to serve as a source of this language than someone who was there when the people around him used it on a daily basis? Apollo (or his shadowy companion) would be a living dictionary.
We can even guess about the stirrings of the "Son (not sun) of God". Apollo stayed long enough on Earth for belief to fade in him and his fellow gods of Olympus. He would have been around to hear of an emerging belief system, particularly one that was in competition to his own status. Apollo was hardly shy about sharing his own history, and if he mentioned this Earth faith, someone, somewhere would take interest.
To this viewer, a powerful visitor leaving a lasting influence on the planet seems far more likely than running across yet another example of "Hodgkin's Law of Parallel Planetary Development" in such a short span of time.
The British Prime Minister Harold Wilson is fond of noting that a lot can change in just seven days. In American politics, the last seven days have witnessed a lifetime of tumult.
It was just last year that President Johnson was polling in the 70s. When Minnesota Senator Eugene McCarthy, stand-offish, brainy, tepid in his commitment, took to the field last November, few took his insurgent, Anti-Vietnam-War campaign seriously. Least of all, President Johnson, who did not even apply to be on the ballot in New Hampshire's primary, scheduled for March 12.
Then the Tet Offensive happened, giving lie to the idea of slow but steady progress in Southeast Asia. The Credibility Gap between the populace and the President became a canyon, and when the dust had settled, Senator McCarthy had garnered just 230 votes less than LBJ in the year's first Democratic primary.
Just a few days latter, Senator Robert F. Kennedy, who had last year demurred from running, referring anti-war supplicants in McCarthy's direction, decided to throw his hat in the ring. The Democratic insurgency has become a full-on party civil war.
Johnson's complacence reminds me of Georges Ernest Boulanger, who in January 1889 was elected deputy for Paris and seemed on the verge of leading a personal coup against the Third Republic. But on the fateful day of January 27, when the crowds roamed the streets and chanted his name, the would-be despot was nowhere to be found. Turned out he had missed his moment, lost in the arms of his mistress rather than under arms with his supporters.
Who knows where all this is headed? It just goes to show that even the most promising candidate can fail for lack of sufficient focus on the goal. And this leads me into discussion of this month's issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction.
by Bert Tanner
Burned batch
Have you ever been careless in the kitchen, not so much as to ruin dinner, but to render it far less palatable than it could have been? All of the stories this month are missing something. Their imperfection lies in missing some quality, or in some cases, an overcooking of sorts. The result is a handful of ideas that could have been good in others' hands, or perhaps with more expert editing, or more time and care in production.
Flight of Fancy, by Daniel F. Galouye
After a long hiatus, the author of the brilliant Dark Universe returns to the pages of science fiction with this, probably the best piece of the issue.
Frank Proctor is an ad man, miserable in his career and his life, shackled to a beautiful woman who insists on tormenting him with affair after affair. But he stubbornly refuses to divorce her, knowing it means financial ruin. His only solace is his recurrent dreams in which he has the ability to fly. He knows it is a stress reaction, but at least it is a moment's surcease.
A greater balm arises: at a company beach party, Frank falls asleep by the shore and immediately begins to soar in his dream. While apparently still in slumber, he meets a lovely young lady, who also possesses the ability to fly. Happily, she is still there when he wakes, and he assumes he must have been sleeping with his eyes open for her to infiltrate his sleep.
Of course, romance is inevitable. But what of his Frank's scheming wife, and will the pictures she took of him and his new love put him over a barrel? The ending is ultimately a happy one, if a bit pat.
This is a well-crafted and vivid story. My only real issue is it feels a bit like wish-fulfillment, and I have to wonder if Galouye just went through a messy divorce.
Four stars.
Dead to Rights, by R. C. FitzPatrick
Crime boss Angelo Amadeo is rubbed out by his second. When the instrument of Angelo's death turns stoolie, the second's devotees enlist a surgeon to recall Angelo to life, reasoning that if Angelo is not dead anymore, then he never could have been murdered.
The problem is, Angelo's body is brought back to life, but the soul inside is most definitely not his. Instead, the reborn inhabitant preaches love of fellow man and everlasting life in the adoration of God.
You can see where this is going.
Too much effort is made to make this a "funny" piece, and the conclusion is obvious from the start. Two stars.
by Gahan Wilson
Without a Doubt Dream, by Bruce McAllister
Antonio and his lovely wife, Alba, wake up one day to find their pine-ensconced villa suddenly surrounded by endless desert. Worse, the insinuating sands are slowly creeping in, destroying all that they touch. Antonio reasons that only his psychic ability is shielding them, but his doubt in the same talent is causing him to lose the battle.
McAllister describes this all in an earnest, somber tone, and he successfully captures the feeling of a pair of foreign protagonists. However, the piece ends rather abruptly, and without a great deal of evolution of the story. Moreover, the tone is a bit too one-dimensional.
Thus, for this third piece by this promising, 19-year old author, I give three stars.
Demon, by Larry Brody
Pinchok, a simple blue-collar worker who happens to be the denizen of another plane, is summoned to Earth in a pentagram by a would-be three-wisher. When Pinchok turns out to be rather useless as a genie, the summoner decides maybe Pinchok should devote his talents to crime…for the benefit of the human, of course.
The concept of demons just being aliens in another dimension, and the art of demonology more a kind of kidnapping (with the implication that it might work the other direction, too, with humans becoming the demons) is an intriguing premise.
This tale, while pleasant enough, just doesn't do enough with it, however. Three stars.
The Superior Sex, by Miriam Allen deFord
William, an astronaut, finds himself the newest member of an all-male harem, subject to an imperious and beautiful mistress. He cannot recall how he got there, but he can recall being from a world dedicated to the principle (if not the assiduous practice) of equality between the sexes. Thus, he rankles at his new role, and in an interview with his mistress, exclaims that he would rather die than live subjugated.
Of course, the truth of his situation is more complex than it first seems.
This is almost a great story. DeFord, an ardent women's libber before the phrase was coined, has a promising message in this piece that is then muddled by its ending. Too bad.
Three stars.
The Time of His Life, by Larry Eisenberg
One of science fiction's few writer/scientists offers up this tale of a middle-aged scientist resentful of forever being in the shadow of his Nobel-winning father, who covets his son's wastrel youth. Said elder has now invented a kind of time travel, but it ages or youthens the traveler rather than sending him elsewhen. In the end, both father and son get what they want.
A decent Twilight Zone-esque piece. Three stars.
The Dance of the Sun, by Isaac Asimov
This month, the good Doctor discusses the phases of the inner planets with respect to the Earth. He also notes that Dr. Richardson had done a similar piece for Analog a few months back. Frankly, I was more impressed with Richardson's; I found Asimov's dry and difficult to follow. And astronomy was my major!
Two stars.
Muscadine, by Ron Goulart
Mr. Muscadine is an android programmed to produce great books. The secret to his success is the idiosyncrasies fundamentally coded into his electronic brain. But as his eccentricities spin out of control, his agent finds himself conspiring with the android's programmer toward a drastic solution.
Goulart can write well, and he can also write funny. He does neither here. Two stars.
Finally, an anti-war piece in the vein of Heller's Catch 22. It features a Private Hastings, a war-addled First Sergeant, and an indecisive Captain, whose unit spends three days a week capturing a forest, three days a week being driven from the forest, and Mondays resting. What follows is the usual silliness of war, including friendly fire, endless red tape, and general insanity.
Harrison did it MUCH better in his Starsloggers. This one meanders for way too long in a singular vein. Two stars.
Expected results
With a limp offering like this, it's no surprise that this issue ends up on the wrong side of three stars. It's a shame. Joe/Ed Ferman's mag is often one of the frontrunners in the field. But with a month like this, I suspect Mercury Publishing is going to have an upset when compared against its competitors for April 1968.
Luckily, science fiction is an endless primary, and a month is a very very long time.
When Androids are created to look and behave indistinguishably from humans, this question bears even greater importance.
The setting: Earth. The time: not too far from now. Rick Deckard is a man whose job is to “retire” escaped androids, using an empathy test to determine who is human and who is not. Most questions revolve around treatment of animals and only complete revulsion at the thought of eating meat or using leather made from an animal’s hide would allow someone to pass.
Ironic, given that I would not pass this test, and you, Dear Reader, probably wouldn’t either.
But these attitudes make sense in the context of Deckard’s world.
Survivors are few and far between on a nuclear-war destroyed Earth. Most humans have emigrated to a terraformed Mars. Animals no longer exist in the wild and what few creatures have evaded extinction are kept as pets and used as a sign of social status. Rick Deckard’s sheep shamefully died years ago, and since not owning an animal at all would mark him as inhuman, Deckard secretly replaced his animal with an ersatz electric sheep. Most of his motivation in this story is to acquire a new live animal to replace his fake one, and it’s this social pressure that leads him to taking on one last job before he leaves retiring androids behind him.
While hunting a dangerous group of runaway androids, Deckard is seduced by an android he meets earlier in the story – Rachael. Rachael so happens to share the same model as one of the targets and attempts to seduce him so that he will feel conflicted about killing his target.
I enjoy when sexuality is explored in science fiction, but the scene that follows was greatly uncomfortable for me to read. Don’t mistake me for being a prude, but Rachael’s body is described as pre-pubescent. Perhaps Dick meant to relay that she is lacking in shape or body hair, but I read it to be girlishly young. I believe the author’s intent might have been to relay to readers that this relationship is immoral, in which case, I think he succeeded.
While Deckard’s weakness towards androids is rooted in his sexual attraction towards them, there is another notable character who empathizes with the androids, but for a drastically different reason.
Because he scored too low on an IQ test, Isidore has been marked as “special,” meaning he isn’t allowed to emigrate to Mars or even procreate and overall is regarded as “lesser.” When the group of runaways Deckard is hunting hides out in Isidore’s otherwise abandoned building, he quickly allies with them, out of perhaps a mix of loneliness but also kinship.
I found Isidore to be the most compelling character in the book. Through him, Dick creates a strong irony. Humans feel superior over androids, priding themselves on the one thing they have that androids don’t – the ability to empathize – yet it’s ironic that Isidore, a human being, is actually treated worse than animals for his supposed lack of intelligence, while androids are most notable for being incredibly intelligent.
Author: Philip K. Dick
So what defines humanity? Dick offers no clear answers, but instead evokes several interesting discussion points that I am sure will stick with me for years to come. 5 Stars.
by Jason Sacks
I’ve raved about Philip K. Dick several times in these pages, full of praise for his kitchen-sink imagination and his unprecedented ability to build up worlds. The estimable Mr. Dick has done some astoundingly great work in the past, but his latest novel, which has the brilliantly odd title Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, is his best work so far.
The most pervasive theme in Dick’s writing is the idea that technology can't lift us up to a higher place. In fact, no matter how greatly our technology improves, humanity can never escape its own inner pathos. People will always be people, with all our multifaceted flaws, and we can never escape our basest motives.
Do Androids Dream is set in an Earth which is living with the aftereffects of World War Terminus, a nuclear event which nobody quite knows who started, but which has caused utter devastation on our planet. Earth has mostly been deserted – most people have been killed by the war and its radiation, and those who weren’t killed or sterilized by the resulting fallout were transported off-planet to various planets, where a new civilization has emerged with andy (android) servants of “as many types as there were cars in the 1950s," a nice Dickian touch of verisimilitude.
It's also a nice Dickian touch for there to be so much uncertainty who started the War, and for nobody much to care about its origins. As he nearly always does, Dick concentrates on the ordinary people affected by the event and on their sad little lives of quiet desperation.
Our main character is a poor schlub named Rick Deckard, who we immediately learn is married to a woman who seems indifferent to him. Iran Deckard loves her Penfield Mood Organ, a device she uses to dial her mood to a six-hour self-accusatory depression (or an awareness of the manifold opportunities open to her in the future, to help her break out of the depression). Rick and Iran bicker and fight, about her love for the Penfield, about Rick’s love for his animal, and about why the couple couldn’t emigrate from Earth. Iran is a pretty typical wife in a Dick novel – we’ve seen him write shrewish women since his nongenre novels of the 1940s – but this wife has some agency about her, some inner life which shows an emotional complexity beyond some of the more impulsive women Dick has written in previous works.
Like most of the people who live in this devastated San Francisco, Deckard is captivated by the idea of owning an animal. In a world devastated by war, an animal is a precious commodity. But Deckard can’t find an actual living animal to buy, at least not anything he wants to buy or remotely in his price range.
So Deckard has to buy an artificial animal, a robotic sheep, to take place of his sad living sheep who died of tetanus. Deckard is obsessed with the pathetic nature of his robotic animal, desperate to own a real living animal as a status symbol to make his life more fulfilling. If he earns enough credits on his job, Deckard might be able to buy a bovine creature, perhaps a cow, if he can pick up a well-paying job.
Deckard works as a kind of android hunter, in fact. See, andys from the colonies have returned to the Earth, and Deckard is paid a commission to hunt down and bag the andys. But it can be hard to tell the difference between the andys and the real people. The only easy way to tell the difference is through an understanding of empathy. The Voight-Kampff scale tests empathy; when Deckard’s predecessor tried to use the scale on an andy, he was brutally killed for his efforts. Thus, taking on this bounty hunter case is a test for Deckard in a truly existential way – both his sense of his own humanity and his very life are under threat.
Humans exist in a constant cloud of empathy. Deckard feels things, often too deeply. He lives in a world of envy and object lust, of self-pity and pathos.
He’s even part of a fascinating pseudo-religion called Mercerism whose practices are based all around the creation of a kind of empathy in its followers. Followers of Mercerism connect themselves to a kind of universal shared device which allows them to psychically feel each other as well as feeling empathy for all of Mercer’s struggles as be battles his way up a hill while being pelted with rocks from some unknown force. There’s an element of the passion of the Christ in Mercer's struggles, as this near universal connection and sacrifice connects all the believers to each other in a transcendent way.
Mr. Dick, in a recent photo
Opposing Mercer is Buster Friendly, the always-on, always smirking TV personality who has an unbreakable influence on everybody on both Earth and the colonies. Buster interrupts his endless blather with a diatribe against Mercer – and the way that whole storyline plays out is tremendously interesting.
Our secondary protagonist here, John Isidore (see Robin's article above for her insightful views of him), is a major follower of Mercerism, and the way this religion spans class and intelligence is a fascinating element of Dick's tale. In the future, it seems culture is monololithic and controlled by unseeing, unknown people for reasons scarcely pondered – a fascinating black hole in this most complex novel.
And, wow, there’s just so much else here that’s rich and intriguing. The book touches deeply on the concept of entropy, with Deckard acting as a kind of force that continually unmakes the world around him. Crucial to the ideas of the book is the idea of kipple, the slow entropy and destruction of everything mankind made. Deckard is a kind of human version of kipple, causing the dissolution of all of mankind’s aspirations.
There are nods to the arts, and to real human love, and there are some beautiful passages about human loneliness and this is all written in such lovely, simple, precise prose.
And the ending does so much to cast the entirety of this rich, complex world in a different light. The ending of this novel has a profound effect on what happened previously and leaves a powerful aftertaste for the reader.
Do Android Dream brings so many thematic lines to the surface in so many ways, with so many different approaches, that the writing approaches true profundity.
What does it mean to be human when your emotions are regulated, when your passions are sublimated into hobbies, when you’re mistreated by others, when even the very basic nature of humanity is nullified by the concept of artificial beings indistinguishable from real people? Is it inherent in being a human being to feel base emotions but to also seek the kind of transcendence that Mercerism provides? Is it really our empathy that makes us human? Does it decrease our humanity to have to dial up emotions or does it enhance that same humanity? Are all our petty goals and aspirations unimportant when our shared sacrifice for Mercer makes individuality feel almost subversive? In the end, what does it mean to be human at all?
And all of this brilliant philosophy is delivered in a beautifully written novel of a mere 170 compulsively readable pages.
This is Philip K. Dick’s finest work so far. 5 stars, and a clear contender for a Galactic Star of 1968.
Student protests have been erupting all over Europe and even the otherwise nigh impenetrable iron curtain cannot stop them.
Protesting students run from the police in Warsaw, Poland.
The latest country to be rocked by student protests is Poland. The protests were triggered when a production of the play Dziady (Forefathers' Eve) by Adam Mickiewicz, Poland's most celebrated poet, was pulled from the Warsaw National Theatre because of alleged anti-Soviet tendencies. In response, students protested against the cancellation of the play and censorship in general. More than thirty students were arrested during the initial protests in Warsaw and two of them were expelled from the University of Warsaw. The fact that both expelled students happened to be Jewish suggests that Anti-Semitism, which has been rearing its ugly head in Poland again in recent years under the guise of Anti-Zionism, may have played a role.
The Polish students, however, were not willing to give up and announced another protest for March 8. The authorities responded with violence and pre-emptively arrested several student leaders. Nonetheless, the protests spread to other Polish cities.
Buddha is a Spaceman: Lord of Light by Roger Zelazny
Roger Zelazny, of Polish origin himself, is one of the most exciting young authors in our genre and has already won two Nebulas and one Hugo Award, which is remarkable, considering he has only been writing professionally for not quite six years.
My own response to Zelazny's works has been mixed. I enjoyed some of them very much (the Dilvish the Damned stories from Fantastic or last year's novella "Damnation Alley" from Galaxy) and could not connect to others at all (the highly lauded "A Rose for Ecclesiastes"). So I opened Zelazny's latest novel Lord of Light with trepidation, for what would I find within, the Zelazny who wrote the Dilvish the Damned stories or the one who wrote "A Rose for Ecclesiastes"?
The answer is "a little bit of both" and "neither". Lord of Light is not so much a novel, but a series of interconnected stories, two of which, "Dawn" and "Death and the Executioner", appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction last year. To make things even more disjointed, the stories are not arranged in chronological order either.
The novel starts with the resurrection of Mahasamatman, Sam to his friends, who may or may not be a god. Sam is not happy about his resurrection, because he was pulled back into bodily existence from a blissful, Nirvana-like bodyless existence that was supposed to be a punishment, the only way of executing one who is functionally immortal. We gradually learn what brought Sam to this place, namely his rebellion against the gods of his world who keep the population downtrodden and oppressed .
Initially, Lord of Light appears to be a fantasy novel, but we eventually realise that the novel is set on a distant planet in the far future and that the gods and demigods we meet are the crew of the Earth spaceship Star of India, which landed here eons ago, while the demons are the original inhabitants of the planet. The human crew mutated themselves to better survive and reincarnate themselves in new bodies via mind transfer to become immortal. They rule over their descendants with an iron hand as self-styled gods. Sam, however, will have none of this and launches a rebellion.
Fantasy and science fiction have been drawing from European religion, mythology and history for decades. In Lord of Light, however, Zelazny draws on Hindu and Buddhist religion and mythology. The spaceship crew turned gods are based on Hindu deities, while Sam is based on Siddhartha Gautama a.k.a. Buddha.
Indian culture is popular right now and Indian influences can be seen in fashion, interior design, music (the Beatles have just embarked on a meditation sojourn in India) as well as in the yoga studios springing up in the big cities. Therefore, it was only a matter of time before Indian influences would appear in science fiction. Especially since it would be silly to assume that only white Christian westerners get to travel to the stars. There is a Christian character in Lord of Light, by the way; the ship's former chaplain Renfrew embarks on a crusade against the self-styled Hindu gods and their worshippers.
The Beatles arrived in India for a meditation retreat last month.
It is a refreshing change to read a science fiction novel where eastern rather than western culture and religion dominate the far future. Nonetheless, something about Lord of Light bothered me. As a child, I spent time in South East Asia, mainly in Singapore, but also in Bangkok, because my Dad was stationed there as an agent for the Norddeutscher Lloyd and DDG Hansa shipping companies. And while I cannot claim to know a lot about Hinduism and Buddhism (though two war-battered Buddha statues guard my home), I know enough to realise that Zelazny gets a lot of things wrong.
Singapore as it looked when I lived there: The General Post Office a.k.a. the Fullerton Building, which was brand-new at the time. I understand Singapore has been modernising rapidly since gaining independence.The C.K. Tang Ltd. department store in Singapore, where my mother and I enjoyed shopping back in the day.
Of course, Zelazny isn't the only person to rather liberally adapt mythology into fiction. For example, The Broken Sword by Poul Anderson, Marvel's The Mighty Thor comics or The Ring of the Nibelungs by Richard Wagner are all liberal adaptions of Norse mythology and yet I am not bothered by them. However, hardly anybody worships the Norse or the Greek gods anymore, whereas Hinduism and Buddhism are living religions with some 255 and 150 million worshipers respectively. And borrowing from a living religion as someone who is not an adherent feels disrespectful in a way that turning Norse gods into superheroes does not.
I for one would love to see more science fiction and fantasy that draws on non-western culture and mythology. However, I would prefer to read works written by authors who actually come from the culture in question rather than by a Polish-Irish Catholic from Ohio. India is a country of 533 million people. Surely, some of them write science fiction and I hope to eventually see their take on Indian mythology and history rather than Zelazny's.
Interesting and well written but disjointed and somewhat disrespectful to half a billion Hindus and Buddhists.
I don't just read science fiction and fantasy, but am also fond of mysteries and thrillers. This is how I came across John Lange, who burst onto the scene two years ago with the heist novel Odds On and followed up with the spy thriller Scratch One last year. Both novels are notable for their tight writing and clever plots, as well as their evocative – and as far as I can tell accurate – description of locations deemed exotic by the average American reader. There even is the occasional science fiction element, e.g. the heist in Odds On is planned using a computer program.
Lange's latest novel Easy Go contains all the elements that made his previous works so enjoyable. This time, Lange takes us to Egypt, where an American archaeologist named Harold Barnaby has made an exciting discovery, a seemingly innocuous papyrus which contains an coded message revealing the location of a heretofore undiscovered royal tomb. This discovery could gain Barnaby academic accolades – or a whole lot of money. Barnaby chooses the latter and decides to rob the tomb. However, the timid academic needs help and finds it in Richard Pierce, a journalist and old war buddy of Barnaby's who has the connections and the plan to pull off the heist of the century.
These days, Cairo is a bustling modern city, which does not remotely look like the set of a Hollywood sword and sandal epic, contrary to popular belief.
The novel follows the usual beats of a heist story. A team of specialists is assembled and a carefully plotted plan is executed, while fate keeps throwing wrenches at our protagonists, especially since the Egyptian authorities turn out to be not nearly as stupid as Pierce and Barnaby assumed. We have seen this sort of story before in movies like Ocean's Eleven, Topkapi or the TV-show Mission Impossible and yet Lange brings a unique flair to the well-worn plot via his knowledge of Egyptology and his vivid descriptions of bustling modern day Egypt (which contrary to popular belief does not look like the set of a Hollywood sword and sandal epic). The building of the Aswan Dam and the moving of the Temple of Abu Simbel play a notable role.
The marvelous of moving the Abu Simbel temple to save it from sinking into the rising waters of the Aswan Dam.
But who is John Lange? Rumour has it that he is a medical student at Harvard who is writing under a pseudonym in order to finance his tuition. Rumour also has it that Lange is working on a bona fide science fiction novel about a deadly plague from outer space, which is expected to come out next year. I can't wait.
An fun caper thriller which will make you want to book a trip to Egypt.
Four and a half stars
by Victoria Silverwolf
Tuning Up the Orchestra
I recently read a quartet of new works of speculative fiction. They range from so-called Hard SF, dealing with science and technology, to New Wave experimentation. Like the movements of a symphony, they offer varying contents, moods, and tempos. Let's grab copies of the program notes and find some good seats before the music begins.
First Movement: Andante
Anonymous cover art.
Out of the Sun, by Ben Bova
An American fighter plane traveling at three times the speed of sound over the Arctic Ocean suddenly breaks apart. The same thing happens to two other aircraft of the same kind. The military calls in the fellow who designed the special metal alloy from which the planes were constructed. He has to figure out what's wrong before more lives are lost.
This is a very short book with plenty of white space. I suspect it was intended for younger readers. (Unlike most so-called juveniles, however, all the characters are adults.) There are some violent deaths, but never described in any detail. The closest thing to sex in its pages is the hero taking a woman out to dinner.
This problem-solving story wouldn't be out of place in the pages of Analog. (Fortunately, it lacks John W. Campbell's quirky obsessions.) It moves at a moderate pace, but is never very exciting. You might be able to predict the main plot gimmick before it's revealed, if you've been keeping up with recent developments in technology.
The writing is very plain and simple. You could easily finish the book in an hour. A longer version, with more fully developed characters, would be welcome.
Two stars.
Second Movement: Adagio
Cover art by Robert Korn.
The God Machine, by Martin Caidin
This one starts with a bang. The narrator, having survived multiple attempts on his life, allows a woman with whom he's been having an affair to enter his room. She immediately offers her body to him, thrusting herself at him wantonly. Instead of reacting the way you'd expect, he knocks her unconscious with the butt of his pistol.
No juvenile novel here!
A long flashback tells us how he got into this situation. The narrator is a mathematical genius. The government contacts him while he's in high school, offering to pay for the best possible college education. In return, they want him to work on a hush-hush project.
It seems that millions of dollars of taxpayer money have been spent constructing a facility deep inside a mountain in Colorado. In terms of secrecy and security, it's the equivalent of the Manhattan Project. The goal? To build a super-powerful computer, one that can come up with its own ideas of how best to prevent a nuclear war.
The computer can also directly communicate with human beings through the use of alpha waves in their brains. Add in the fact that, along with the rest of its vast knowledge, it understands a lot about hypnosis, and you can see where this is going.
When the machine decides that the narrator has to be eliminated, things seem hopeless. He can't trust anybody. The computer itself is protected by lasers, electricity, and radiation. It's got its own secure atomic power generators, so you can't just turn it off. What's a fellow to do?
Other than the opening and closing scenes, most of the book moves at a leisurely pace. In sharp contrast to Bova's slim volume, this tome is well over three hundred pages. It could benefit from some judicious editing; I learned more than I really needed to know about the narrator's life before he becomes the computer's target.
As soon as you take a look at the table of contents for the author's first novel, you know you're in for something different.
Not only are the chapter titles weird, they form a poem. There are lots of other little bits of verse throughout the book as well. Usually, these are poems that the six children (or seven, if you count Bad John) use to work magic, particularly to kill people.
But I'm getting ahead of myself, and I'm confusing you. Let me start over.
Some time ago, two married couples came to Earth from another planet. They're doomed to succumb to Earth sickness. They had a total of six children (or seven, if you count Bad John) among them. Because these offspring were born on Earth, they won't get the sickness.
What's this Bad John nonsense? I hear you cry.
Well, he died at birth, but he's still around. Only certain Earth folks, such as an American Indian and a drunken Frenchman, can perceive him. He's insubstantial and can pass through walls and such, but the other children are emphatic that he is not a ghost.
I have no idea why he's called Bad John. Another of the kids is just named John.
This gives you a tiny hint of how eccentric this book is. I would be hard pressed to provide a coherent plot summary. It has something to do with the children plotting to kill everybody on the planet. Meanwhile, one of the adults is blamed for a murder he didn't commit.
The narrative style is that of a tall tale or a shaggy dog story. The mood might be described as serious whimsy. There's a lot of violence — the basic plot, if there is one, involves an ax murder — but only the Earth people seem to care very much about it. It's not exactly a black comedy, but it treats death in an offhand fashion.
Although they're from another planet, the characters are more supernatural than alien. (They're called the Puka, and the allusion to the Pooka from Celtic myth seems intentional.)
It may be labeled as science fiction, but this is a fantasy novel, and a very strange one at that. How much you get out of it will depend on whether or not you're willing to let the author take you on a dizzying journey with no particular destination in kind.
As editor of a remarkably transformed version of the venerable science fiction magazine New Worlds, the author proves himself to be the guiding light of the British New Wave. This book shows he can write the stuff, too.
It first appeared as threeseparatestories in New Worlds. I'm not sure how much has been added to it, if anything, or how substantially it's been revised, if at all. It's more coherent as a whole rather than in bits and pieces, but it's still somewhat episodic.
Jerry Cornelius is a rock star, a brilliant scientist/philosopher, and as quick with a gun as James Bond. He's also a snappy dresser. We'll get a lot of detailed descriptions of his mod outfits throughout the book.
Jerry gets involved with some folks who want to get their hands on microfilm kept secure in the fortress home of his late father. Complicating matters is the presence inside the house of Jerry's sinister brother Frank and his beloved sister Catherine.
(The relationship between Jerry and Catherine may remind you of a certain controversial story that recently appeared in a groundbreaking anthology.)
Things get pretty wild at this point, from a bloody assault on the fortress to a secret underground base built by the Nazis to the novel's truly apocalyptic climax.
I should mention another character who plays a vital part in the story. Miss Brunner (no first name ever given) is an enigma. At first, she seems to be nothing more than one of the conspirators who work with Jerry. She soon turns out to be a most peculiar sort of person indeed.
I'd say Miss Brunner is actually the heart of the novel, more so than Jerry himself. She's always several steps ahead of everyone else, and has an agenda of her own that doesn't become clear until the end of the book.
The author's style is usually surprisingly traditional, no matter how bizarre the plot. The mood combines frenzy with the feeling that things are falling apart all over, and that maybe this is a good thing. At times, I felt that Moorcock was amusing himself at the expense of the reader. It's worth a look, but you may wonder what it's all supposed to mean.
Rod Dorashi is a vagabond, a member of the wretched working class of Metropolis, staying out of trouble so as not to be squashed by the draconian dictator Korm. Yet he risks all to take in an old man, hit by a car, in his last hours of life. The dying man presses a packet of seeds upon Rod, promising that they are the secret to eternal life.
Enter Bey Ormand, a slick powerful man who is the founder and ruler of Trysis–a paradisical resort and the sole purveyor of the distilled essence of the forever seeds. For a lordly sum, they turn back the clock for their customers by five years. Seemingly without motive, Ormand picks up Rod and adds him to his select coterie of multi-centenarians. The troupe then acts as little dictators, forcing all invitees, whether petty princes of a Balkanized America, or faded stars and starlets, to grovel at their feet.
Despite an instinct for rebellion, Dorashi never quite revolts. Instead, he sticks with the sadistic Ormand and his band for centuries. When they leave (almost without notice), the wrap-up is many pages of explanation: turns out Ormand et. al. were not very old humans but actually very old aliens, and the goal of the project was to siphon off the wealth of the Earth–something they've done time and again.
The whole thing reads like a long, unpleasant cocktail party, and the framing of the ending is not at all condemnatory. It merely is.
I applaud new author Wobig for their first publication, but I found The Youth Monopoly a difficult, and ultimately unrewarding, read.
On the dead planet of Pavanne, light years from Earth, reside 'The Pictures'. This tremendous tapestry, carved from native rock by unknown aliens countless eons ago, are the most beautiful sight in the galaxy. And, of course, capitalism being what it is, the Harkrider corporation has secured the license to the their viewing. Now, Pavanne is a pleasure planet that specializes in relieving every wealthy guest of their money, pouring it into the coffers of the half-robotic, entirely wizened Jason Harkrider.
Enter Max Farway, one of humanity's leading artists. Driven by the need to prove himself, exacerbated by the twisted, diminutive and sterile body he was born with, Farway resolves to tackle the hardest subject of art: The Pictures themselves. And so, he travels to Pavanne with his beautiful, recently widowed step-mother, and his much put-upon agent, in time for the conjunction of the alien planet and the brighter of its two suns–when the artifact achieves its highest, and most ineffable level of beauty. But once he steps foot on Pavanne, Farway finds himself in a power struggle with the planet's venal warlord, with Harkrider's assistant, Rudolph Heininger, a wild card in the conflict. At the heart of it all are the unknown predictions of the murdered mathematician Damon Wisehart, whose calculations suggest something terrible is soon to occur involving Pavanne and its extraterrestrial art.
For a good portion of the reading, I admired author Wright's juxtaposition of the petty and irritable Farway, along with the thoroughly disgusting Wisehart (and his twisted twin daughters), with the unearthly beauty of The Pictures. As Farway slowly grows up under the ministrations of his gentle step-mother, I looked forward to a piece that was largely philosophical, eschewing the fetters of the typical Ace Double. This is largely discarded at the end, as things wrap up suddenly and with much action, but without much heart.
Perhaps a more satisfying book remains to be published by a different press. As is, I give it three stars.
Need more science fiction? The next episode of Star Trek is on TONIGHT! You won't want to miss it:
Brothers and sisters, I am quite simply over the moon. I feel rewarded and fulfilled due to what I just witnessed. Above all else, I feel something that I haven’t felt in a while as a lover of Star Trek. I feel respected. As I enjoy the last few sips of my cocktail, I take pleasure in divulging my thoughts on “The Ultimate Computer”. It was very good! The end.
Liquor infused levity aside, I suppose I am obligated to expand on my thoughts. The episode got off to a roaring start, with the Enterprise arriving at a space station with a visibly upset Kirk having been summoned to that station sans explanation. When Kirk asked for an explanation, he was told that his explanation would be beamed aboard. Commodore Wesley beamed in, someone who both Kirk and Spock appeared acquainted with. Wesley told them that they were to participate in war games to test a new computer that would be installed on the Enterprise, replacing most of the crew. Twenty crew members would be left aboard.
After the new M5 multitronic unit was installed, shrinking the crew, we met the tall and off-putting Dr. Richard Daystrom, creator of the M5. He was a man lacking several human pleasantries, in that he was dismissive of people but very focused on and protective of the M5. The two most human members of the crew, Bones and Scotty, caught Daystrom’s ire in the subsequent exchanges, demonstrating his preference for machines over men.
The new sheriff in town.
As the new M5 equipped Enterprise started its tour, it made a trip to a planet. M5 took extra initiative, navigating the ship into its orbit and even picking assignments for an away team. It excluded Kirk and Bones, who it deemed to be unnecessary for the mission. This bothered Kirk, who was already feeling put upon, having a computer taking on more of this job than he surmised. The M5 also started turning off parts of the ship that were absent of crew members for some unknown reason.
Leaving the planet, the ship found itself under a sneak attack as a part of the war games Wesley had planned. The M5 took complete control of the Enterprise, dispatching the attackers swiftly with weapons at 1% power as the exercise demanded. This earned the M5 a success report from Wesley and Kirk a (perhaps joking) slight from the commodore, when Wesley called Kirk Captain “Dunsel”; dunsel referring to a part on a ship that serves no purpose.
"Good job, Captain Useless!"
Things were looking good for the M5 and Daystrom was very pleased with the outcomes, while Kirk flirted with depression at the thought of the day’s events. It was at this time that the M5 took a bad turn, starting by its destroying (unprovoked) an automated ore freighter. The crew quickly became adversarial toward the M5, which now had completely taken control of the ship. All efforts to get control back from the rogue computer failed, even costing an engineer (not Scotty, thank heaven) his life.
Posthumous hazard pay is in order.
Daystrom was undeterred in his defense of his creation, not wanting to disconnect the M5, a sentiment which didn't change even as the real war games started when M5, using weapons at 100%, utterly defeated a group of starships and killed everyone on the Excalibur. Daystrom didn’t even try to stop his creation until the M5 was threatened with destruction by the other ships.
Here comes the Piper.
In the end, it took Kirk, using his ironclad logic against the M5, which contained Daystrom’s embedded fears but also his morality, to prevail. He prevented an attack not using the wizardry of technology, but by trusting in the intelligence, will, and heart of men. Proving that spaceships still need men at the helm.
I loved this episode. It had great acting, fantastic camera direction, an intelligent original story, and best of all, there was little to no exposition to explain what was happening to the audience. We had to infer what everything meant based on the story elements provided. Again, it was very good.
5 stars.
Homo ex machina
by Gideon Marcus
Star Trek, like much science fiction, often tries to convey messages in its stories. Sometimes, it does so hamfistedly, other times contradictorily. In "The Ultimate Computer", the show presented not one, but two themes simultaneously, and did so with subtlety and cleverness. Bravo.
Firstly, "Computer" addresses the specter of automation. The episode does not endorse Luddism. It is clear that someday at least some of the 430 jobs on the Enterprise will be performed by computer–indeed, halfway through the episode, the ship comes across a completely robot-controlled DY-500. In other words, M-5's revolution is not the automation of spaceships, but the next development in their automation.
The dialogue between Bones and Kirk on the captain's impending obsolescence, as well as the undercurrent of tension between the captain and Commodore Wesley (who puts on a blustery front, but probably is no happier about M-5's ramifications than Kirk), are some of the best parts of the episode.
It should also be noted, that whenever computers have gone amok, it is not their fault: in "The Changeling", Nomad's functioning got cross-contaminated with Tan Ru's. In "Court Martial", the ship's computer is deliberately tampered with by Ben Finney. Even Landru in "Return of the Archons" only did what it was programmed to do. In other words, computers are useful, inevitable, and desirable tools.
But this is not just a story of steam replacing sail, or iron horses replacing ponies. It's about what happens when too much reliance is placed on automation without sufficient involvement of humans. It's a cautionary tale in the same vein as Failsafe (the book or the movie). No matter how sophisticated computers get, or what shortcuts their developers take to leapfrog their development, in the end, humans are necessary–to guide them, to control them, to maximize the utility of them.
The missing link–sane oversight.
One can quibble over details; this story was told in a dramatic way so as to get its point across in 50 minutes, and in doing so, there are some inconsistencies and some let-downs (the final confrontation between Kirk and the M5 is about two exchanges too short). But for me, "The Ultimate Computer" feels like a return to form, one of the rare episodes of the second season that recaptured the essence of the first in feel, in technical proficiency, and coherence.
Four and a half stars.
Annoyingly Predictable
by Erica Frank
The M-5 is supposed to be able to run a ship normally crewed by four hundred with just 20 people. Of course, that turns out to be a lie, not because it can't, but because it doesn't bother with little details like, oh, following regulations, obeying the captain, and not killing people.
How the hell did this computer get approved for take-control-of-a-starship testing? And when Daystrom started to make excuses for it ("You don't shut off a child when it makes a mistake!"), why didn't Kirk immediately reply with, "You don't give a child command of a starship, either. And if a child grabs control of the family car and rams into another car – you don't let the child keep control. Shut this off NOW, or we'll start shooting our phasers into its circuit banks."
("But that would leave us floating dead in space!" he might answer. And Kirk could respond, "I'm sure someone will be along shortly to pick us up.")
Instead, Kirk lets it keep control long enough to kill over 60 people before getting Daystrom out of the way. Then he manages to use third-grade logic to get it to shut itself down: "What is the penalty for murder?" "Death." (Except we know otherwise – the only crime in the Federation with a death penalty was visiting Talos IV.) Unable to cope with the awareness that it violated its internal morality, it collapses.
…Where was that logic when it was shooting at the other ships? Why didn't the super-computer recognize the "laws of God and man" before it had broken them? Why didn't Kirk insist Daystrom talk it out of shooting before it had killed anyone? Shouldn't its logic work faster and more efficiently than a human's?
But we wouldn't get much story if the M5 had immediately recognized it was stuck between "defend myself" and "kill humans, whose protection is my purpose." So it couldn't notice that until the damage was done, its creator was unconscious, and Kirk was earnestly explaining exactly what it had done wrong.
As Snoopy might say: Bleah.
Just as dull as all the "psychic powers create sadistic manipulators" stories.
The acting was good. The story pacing was good. The explanations of the technology were good. Yet another "I liked everything but the plot" episode. Two stars.
Hey McCoy – got another Finagle's Folly lying around? I could use a drink.
The weekly news is up! Please watch, enjoy, and mail in your comments to the station!
by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall
Television and Films over the last few years have been littered with spies. Many of them have been forgettable but one was ahead of the pack: Danger Man.
Starring the brilliant Patrick McGoohan as John Drake, it took a more cynical and grounded look at the world of secret agents, compared with the more fantastical exploits of James Bond or John Steed.
We were meant to be getting a new series of Drake’s adventures, produced in full colour for the American market. Instead, we heard, he was concentrating on a new espionage series, The Prisoner. I had expected some cross between the former show and The Fugitive. What we got was quite different.
After resigning, the un-named McGoohan is transported to a village. There he is assigned the Number Six and the authorities try to either probe him for information or get him to do their dirty work. So far this could have been an episode of Danger Man similar to "Colony Three". But there are much stranger elements.
Firstly, the whole village is not simply an island prison, it has the unnerving sense of enforced jollity. Which makes it more unnerving. I found myself reminded of the planet in Doctor Who’s Macra Terror, with both having that holiday camp feeling with dark tensions underneath.
Then, we have Rover, the Village’s loyal “Attack Bubble”. It should not be scary for a giant roaring soap sud to be scary, but the way that people are trapped within it, straining to get out makes for a terrifying image.
There is also the governance of The Village, where (in spite of a system of elections and councils) the power lays with “Number Two”, a figure who changes each week (or even multiple times in a week) with their own different experiments.
Just another day in the strange life of Number Six
As the series progresses it gets stranger in its plots. We have duplicate number sixes, dream journeys, trips to Old West, not to mention the world’s strangest martial arts. Over the seventeen episodes McGoohan moves us from a man trying to escape into the surreality we would more expect from The Corridor People or Do Not Adjust Your Set.
You WILL enjoy The Prisoner
These offbeat choices may have put some people off but I enjoyed them, albeit with a couple of caveats. It would sometimes go too much into trying to be direct satire, rather that something more broad and nebulous, particularly in McGoohan’s directed episodes. These tended to work less well as it felt like to author was trying to pontificate to the audience and never gave a sense that this world had an existence outside of serving these points.
The other, is that, all these choices played against trying to give a solid finish to the story. For example, we are shown two characters and told that they both represent forms of rebellion. One we are not sure if we have seen before (the actor appeared previously but the character may be new) and the other only a couple of times in a position of authority. In a less experimental format I could see these challenges being overcome and a tighter solution put together.
All the different factions celebrating the show.
However, as an experiment it is still one I enjoyed seeing and exploring the fascinating setup from McGoohan and co.
A high four stars
by Fiona Moore
Lots of people who tuned in to The Prisoner and watched to the end are, apparently, disappointed. Those people are missing the point. The Prisoner isn’t a spy series, or an sf series, or a metaphor… and yet, it is all of those things. The Village is a real place… and yet it’s also a state of mind, a cloying conformity that, as the series itself demonstrates, could be found in London or the Wild West as much as in Portmeirion, where the series was actually filmed. The point many critics are missing is, The Prisoner is first and foremost a Rorshach test.
Make of him what you will.
Even the most straightforward episode of The Prisoner can be interpreted through multiple lenses. Want to see it as a spy series, a kind of Manchurian Candidate with extra surreal elements? As a spoof of spy series, dialling the conceits of Danger Man or James Bond up to maximum so the viewer is confronted with how ridiculous they actually are? As a Jungian exploration of one man’s psyche, and how it crumbles under the strain of atomic-age paranoia? As a metaphor for childhood, and the way in which we go from complete dependence on our parents to adolescent rebellion to (one hopes) a more balanced adulthood? As a twisted, op-art version of the Tibetan afterlife, as the soul refuses the temptation to return to the Wheel of Samsara and eventually seeks peaceful oblivion in Nirvana? You can find all of those in there. But you’re also never going to find one interpretation that fits the series throughout, because that’s not what it’s all about.
Is this the real Village?
The fact that the series’ ending is chaotic and strange is, therefore, perfectly in keeping with that. You could see “Fall Out” as a commentary on rebellion, or on nuclear proliferation, or on the relationship of the id to the ego and the superego. You could also just sit back and let the imagery flow past you, and draw from it the meaning that personally speaks to you, that allows you to relate the series to your own life and the personal and political struggles you face in the turbulent and strange times we live in.
No, it doesn't have to make sense.
The point is not to over-interpret, or to seek a prescriptive meaning for the series. Does it always succeed? No. But does it fail? Only if you wanted a story with a nice neat ending, where The Prisoner is (definitely) John Drake and Number One is some bald-headed type in a Nehru suit stroking a fluffy cat. Otherwise, I’d say just turn on, tune in, and enjoy where the ride takes you.
The latest serial of Doctor Who tempers the base-under-siege formula with an infusion of ‘whodunnit’, but is this a fresh take on the format or are the mystery elements just a red herring? Let’s take a look at the latter half of The Web Of Fear.
EPISODE FOUR
The episode kicks off with a Yeti attack, with the beast absconding with Professor Travers and leaving Anne unconscious on the floor.
Meanwhile, the Doctor and company pursue Chorley in the hopes of preventing him from getting to the TARDIS, but there’s no sign of him in the tunnels. In fact, thanks to the rapidly encroaching fungus it’s completely impossible to get to the TARDIS. Wherever Chorley is, he’s not there.
They return to the base to find the aftermath of Travers’ kidnapping, and the Doctor wonders why the Yeti didn’t just kill him. Unless, of course, the Great Intelligence needed him for something.
With the situation growing more dire by the minute, the Colonel decides to lead an expedition over the surface to reach the TARDIS, load it onto a trolley, and send it back through the tunnels.
It does not go well.
The below-ground half of the mission immediately goes down the drain, with two men (Staff Sgt. Arnolds [Jack Woolgar] and another bloke whose name I failed to write down) dying in the attempt to send a trolley through a web-infested tunnel.
As for the surface, it’s a total bloodbath. Well, web-bath. The Colonel takes a couple dozen men up there, and a few action-packed scenes later, he’s the only one to make it back alive, empty-handed.
Meanwhile, the Doctor and Anne get to work on trying to find a way to control the Yeti. However, two of the Yeti control figurines go missing, and the Doctor works out that the Yeti are using them as homing devices.
What’s more, the Doctor collected a sample of the fungus earlier, but it seems to have mysteriously vanished—and the last person who laid hands on it was Evans.
Needing additional supplies in order to build a remote control for the Yeti-sphere, the Doctor persuades the Colonel’s subordinate, Captain Knight, to accompany him to the surface so he can pop to the shops.
This also does not go well.
As it turns out, Knight (unbeknownst to him) has one of the missing Yeti figurines, and the monsters find the pair in a matter of minutes. Knight is no match for a couple of Yeti, and promptly gets himself killed. The Doctor only survives because (I can only guess) the Great Intelligence calls them off at the last second. It seems the Great Intelligence’s plans for the Doctor are a little more sophisticated than simple murder.
The Colonel stumbles back to the base not long after the Doctor, and finds that he has the other missing figurine in his pocket. No wonder the surface mission went so badly.
The Doctor realises that the Yeti could be still homing in on the Colonel as they speak, but before the Colonel can destroy the figurine, the door bursts open.
In walk a pair of Yeti…and who should be with them but Professor Travers?
That’s an excellent twist, and had me eagerly anticipating the next episode.
EPISODE FIVE
I have good news and bad news. The good news is that Travers hasn’t suddenly turned out to be a secret evil mastermind. The bad news is that he’s being possessed by the Great Intelligence.
And the Great Intelligence has plans for the Doctor. It’s not particularly cross about the Doctor defeating it in Tibet. However, the Doctor caught his attention there, and the Great Intelligence is fascinated by the Doctor’s mind. So fascinated, it wants it for its own.
The process of stealing his mind won’t kill the Doctor, but it will more or less turn his brain into soup, and who knows what the GI might be getting up to while the Doctor is re-learning how to stand on two feet and eat solid food.
While the Doctor mulls over whether or not to give himself up, the Intelligence takes Victoria captive. Poor girl needs to take some self-defence lessons. She must be sick of being used as a bargaining chip every week.
As tempting as the offer is, the Doctor would rather take an option that doesn’t involve everyone being killed or his mind turning into mush.
While he works with Anne to try and get the control unit working, Jamie and the Colonel sneak out of the base to try and find where the Yeti have taken Victoria and Travers.
Evans puts his brain cell to work investigating the potential mole situation, and comes to the conclusion that it must be Jamie or the Colonel. And what does he do with this information? Holds them at gunpoint then crumples like a wet paper bag when the pair more or less roll their eyes and walk away. I can like a character who is smart but not brave. I can like a character who is brave but not smart. I have great difficulty liking a character who is neither.
Elsewhere in the Underground, the Intelligence is nice enough to let Travers have his mind back for the time being and Victoria catches him up on what he’s missed. He also discovers that Staff Sgt. Arnold still lives, and sends him to bring word of their location back to the Doctor. You may wonder why he doesn’t just go with him, but apparently the Yeti would notice. I mean, the Yeti didn’t notice him carrying on a full conversation with a third party, so maybe he needn’t have worried.
And if they did notice, so what? It’s not as if they can run very fast.
The Doctor and Anne manage to get their control sphere working, as well as a couple of remote controls, one of them voice activated. They find themselves a lone Yeti and swap out its control sphere for their own. Nice, now they can use the Intelligence’s own weapon against it!
However, they’re running out of time. The Intelligence gave the Doctor twenty minutes to hand himself over…but the fungus isn’t as patient.
EPISODE SIX
The Doctor and Anne, reasoning that they don’t know who they can trust, decide to conceal their feat of controlling a Yeti, and send theirs away. They’ll use it when the time is right. They reunite with the rest of the group, surprised to find that Arnold is alive. Everyone’s here except Evans, and that’s pretty dangerous if one of you is in league with the Intelligence. Sure enough, the Yeti surround them moments later.
Now would be a good time for Evans to find his courage and mount a rescue, but he has a Slinky where his spine should be. His cowardice doesn’t save him from being captured, however.
With some help from the Colonel, Arnold slips away from the Yeti as the group travel to the Intelligence’s base in hopes of finding help. Along the way, he discovers another unexpected survivor—the irritating journalist, Chorley.
The Doctor tells Jamie about his plan to control the Yeti, though he does have a little problem: he’s not sure which Yeti is his. Jamie will just have to get lucky. Failing that, he’ll have to run really fast, because he’s going to slip away from the group and try and find that Yeti.
These Yeti aren’t very observant, are they? Can’t even do a headcount before moving on to the next location.
They take the Doctor a little ahead of the group, which handily gives him the opportunity to freeze the Yeti escorting him and tamper with the device that will be used to scoop his brain out. And, for plot reasons, to avoid anyone else finding this out.
As for Jamie’s attempt to find the Doctor’s Yeti, it doesn’t go well. And he doesn’t even get a chance to run away.
It looks like the Doctor is going to lose his mind.
With everyone gathered in the Intelligence’s base, we finally find out who the mole is, courtesy of Chorley. It’s not him. It’s Arnold.
Who ever would have guessed?
Me. Actually no, I tell a lie. Before Arnold turned up alive I was half expecting it to be Anne.
…It made sense in my head. I’m a Holmes but not a Sherlock.
Much to Jamie’s consternation, the Doctor willingly puts on a silly hat (or mind-stealing helmet, potato po-tah-to) and sits inside the Intelligence’s device. It looks like a glass pyramid. The Intelligence likes its pyramids, doesn’t it?
What happens next illustrates the importance of communication. The Doctor has a plan, you see. He’s tinkered with the mind-stealing device so that rather than losing his mind, the process will be reversed, stealing the Intelligence’s mind and neutralising it for good.
But Jamie, suddenly faced with the responsibility of raising a 400-year-old baby, doesn’t know that, and panics. He still has the voice control device, so he yells into it, hoping that one of the many Yeti gathered in the room will obey him.
As luck would have it, one does. And as much as the Doctor tries to resist being rescued, eventually Jamie drags him out of the pyramid. Said pyramid then short-circuits and explodes, leaving the Intelligence without a connection to Earth, and the Doctor very put out.
Well, at least the Intelligence is gone…for now. And his puppet, Arnold, is dead. He seems to have been deep fried, but the Doctor suspects he’s been dead for quite some time; likely since before he even arrived.
How grim.
The Doctor makes an abrupt departure as Chorley starts to take an interest in him, promptly getting himself and his companions lost in the now fungus-free tunnels. They’d better work out where the TARDIS is soon…or the trains might beat them to it!
Final Thoughts
So, that was The Web Of Fear. It’s a good solid serial, well-paced with a decent cast of characters. That said, some of the characters were definitely more fun to watch than others.
Most of the soldiers were completely uninteresting which doesn’t really matter because they were more or less Yeti-fodder. Still, I might have cared a bit more whenever any of them died if any of them had much personality. Evans and Chorley are both too irritating for their own good, and I was actually hoping they’d end up on the wrong end of a Yeti, but alas we can’t always get what we want.
Anne’s great though, I hope she pops up again, like her father. The Colonel was pretty cool too, I like his ‘get stuff done’ attitude. I wouldn’t mind seeing him again.
As for the Intelligence, I have a thought or two. It’s got no body, could be thousands of years old, can control people’s minds, and we don’t know where he came from. And yet I don’t think it’s scary enough. The Yeti are just too cuddly for me to take them, and by extension the Intelligence, as a serious threat. Maybe the Intelligence should start a cult, get itself some servants that aren’t eminently huggable.
The mystery made an otherwise quite standard plot a little more interesting, though I’m not sure Arnold being the mole is a particularly satisfying conclusion. He’s not much of a character. In fact, I didn’t think to mention him when covering the first half of this serial because he was such a non-entity. He wasn’t even nefarious, no motivation of his own, just a meat puppet for the Intelligence. That’s just not as much fun as a willing accomplice.
Assuming the trio don’t get splatted by a train, I look forward to seeing what adventures are in store next time on Doctor Who.
![[March 28, 1968] Design for effect (April 1968 <i>Analog</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/680328cover.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[March 26, 1968] Scandal! <i>New Worlds</i>, April 1968](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/New-Worlds-April-1968.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
Cover by Stephen Dwoskin 
![[March 24, 1968] A Frivolous Escape into Fashion](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/pg-2-scaled.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[March 22, 1968] (Two Things Only the People Anxiously Desire, <i>Star Trek</i>: "Bread and Circuses")](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/680322title1.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
![[March 20, 1968] Missed opportunities (April 1968 <i>Fantasy and Science Fiction</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/680320cover.jpg?resize=666%2C372&ssl=1)
![[March 18, 1968] What Defines Humanity? (<i>Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?</i>)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/680318cover-scale-2_00x.jpg?resize=506%2C372&ssl=1)
![[March 16, 1968] In Distant Lands (March Galactoscope)](https://i0.wp.com/galacticjourney.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/680316covers.jpg?resize=672%2C372&ssl=1)
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