Tag Archives: Dr. Sidney Lee

[January 2, 1970] Under Pressure (February 1970 IF)


by David Levinson

Pressure Cooker

Every December, the American Geophysical Union holds its Fall Meeting in San Francisco. There, a number of papers are presented on a wide variety of topics in fields such as geology, oceanography, meteorology, space, and many more. Usually, it might produce a paragraph or two in the back pages of your newspaper on an attempt to predict earthquakes or some new information about the Moon, but this year’s meeting garnered headlines (hardly front page news, but more than just filler). Most of attention went to the proposal to detonate a nuclear bomb on the Moon to build up a seismological picture of our neighbor and the news that Apollo 12 was struck by lightning twice as it rose into the skies above Florida. However, it was another article that caught my eye.

Most of the column inches went to a presentation by Dr. E.D. Goldberg of the Scripps Institute of Oceanography. He spoke of the “complex ecological questions” raised by the amount of toxic substances we’re dumping into the ocean. The use of lead in gasoline results in 250,000 tons winding up in the ocean every year, over and above the 150,000 tons that are washed there naturally. Oil tankers and other ships discharge a million tons of oil into the sea annually, with the result that there are “cases of fish tasting of petroleum.” Mackerel had to be taken off the market in Los Angeles due to unacceptable levels of DDT, while in Japan 200 people were poisoned and 40 died before authorities traced the cause to mercury discharged into Minimata Bay by a chemical company. Dr. Goldberg asked, “Will [pollution] alter the ocean as a resource? Will we lose the ocean?”

Dr. Edward D. Goldberg, a white man with gray hair in a suit and tie.  He is sitting on a desk, holding a book, and smiling.Dr. Edward D. Goldberg of the Scripps Institute of Oceanography in La Jolla, California

That seems like the sort of pollution we can do something about. Perhaps more concerning is the warning provided by J.O. Fletcher of the Rand Corporation. Fletcher is a retired Air Force Colonel, best known for being part of the crew that landed a plane at the North Pole and for establishing a weather station on tabular iceberg T-3 (now known as Fletcher’s Ice Island), which is still in use. He called carbon dioxide the most important atmospheric pollutant today. It is responsible for one-third to one-half of the warming thus far in the 20th century. The human contribution may surpass that of nature within a few decades. Global warming could increase the melting of the polar ice caps and change the Earth’s climate.

A photograph of Col. J. O. Fletcher, a white man  wearing snow pants, a thermal undershirt, suspenders, and a winter hat.  He is having a conversation with a second unidentified person who is completely obscured by their parka hood.Col. Fletcher (r.) on his ice island in 1952. This was the most recent photo of him I could find.

Fletcher’s warning was underscored by Dr. William W. Kellogg of the National Center for Atmospheric Research, who stressed the need to educate people that “man has got to change his way.” He added that global climate is going to have to become a problem that can be managed.

A headshot photograph of Dr. William W. Kellogg, a white man with brown hair.Dr. William W. Kellogg of the National Center for Atmospheric Research, in Boulder, Colorado

If the warnings of Fletcher and Kellogg sound familiar, that’s because you read it in IF first. Back in the April, 1968 issue, Poul Anderson had a guest editorial talking about the dangers of increased warming. In the August issue of the same year, Fred Pohl had an editorial warning about increasing levels of carbon dioxide. [And Isaac Asimov wrote about it back in 1958! (ed.)] An article from UPI has a much wider reach than IF, and people are more likely to take working scientists more seriously than a couple of science fiction writers. Let’s hope they pay attention.

Pressure Tests

It’s not uncommon for authors to put their characters through the wringer, pushing them to or even past their breaking point. Some would argue it’s the best way to get a story out of a setting and characters. Several of the stories in this month’s IF have taken that approach, though one subject has an awfully low tolerance for stress.

The cover painting of the February 1970 edition of IF. The background is a red wash with a streak of yellow across it.  In the center floats a gray spaceship.  Its left side is a sphere covered with circular indentations, some of which have antennae coming out. The center part is a short rod that seems to be threaded like a bolt.  Its right side is a group of spheres arranged in a circle around the end of the rod.  The spheres look like eyeballs looking out from the spaceship in all directions. Behind and to the left of the spaceship is the face of a young Asian woman, drawn to be about the same size as the spaceship.  She is facing left but looking apprehensively backward at the ship. She is lit yellow by the streak in the background.  Above her float three black manta rays.Cover by Gaughan. Supposedly suggested by Whipping Star, but it looks more like it illustrates Pressure Vessel to me.

Pressure Vessel, by Ben Bova

Robert O’Banion is second in command on a mission into the depths of Jupiter, looking for life. Grieving over the loss of his wife, he only feels truly comfortable when he is connected to the ship and its computer, flying the vessel like it’s his own body. Add in a general sense of urgency and friction between the scientific and military members of the small crew, and there’s a lot of tension.

A charcoal drawing of a man lying naked in a hammock.  Wires extend from his head and body up out of the frame. He looks calmly in the direction the wires are leading.  Another naked man with a creepy expression on his face is crawling out from under the hammock.Art by Gaughan: O’Banion hooked up to the ship.

Bova has written a couple of stories about Dr. Sidney Lee, in which humanity is desperately seeking the aliens who built the strange machines on Titan, still working after millennia or even longer. Lee doesn’t appear in this story, but the protagonist’s wife knew Lee on Titan and fell in love with him there. There are some flaws in the tale—notably the protagonist’s psychological suitability for the mission—but it’s still very strong.

Four stars.

A Matter of Recordings, by Larry Eisenberg

Another of Eisenberg’s awful Emmett Duckworth stories. This time, Duckworth has come up with a way to record memories so they can be played back to anyone. The usual nonsense follows.

Two stars.

A black and white linocut print of two naked women, one standing and one seated.  They are looking suspiciously at a tape player in the foreground.Can recordings made in a harem stop a revolution? Art uncredited, but probably by Gaughan

Prez, by Ron Goulart

Norbert Penner is looking forward to spending the winter alone with his girlfriend on her family’s palatial estate. Unfortunately, he doesn’t like her dog, the titular Prez. Worse, thanks to cybernetic enhancements, Prez can talk and has the intelligence of a 10-year-old. He’s able to make very clear that the feeling is mutual without having to pee on Penner’s leg.

A charcoal drawing of a black dog lying on the floor looking mournfully upward.  An electric cord extends out of its back and plugs into an outlet on the wall behind it.

Prez recharging his batteries.  Art by Gaughan

This is a fairly typical Goulart comedy, though not as wacky as some. If you like those—and I do—you’ll like this one.

Three stars.

The Cube, by C.M. Drahan

Humans and the E-tees have been at war from the moment they first made contact. The Telepath chosen as humanity’s representative for the truce talks on a remote planetoid seems remarkably unsuited for the task.

A cartoon drawing of a cube set isometrically toward the viewer.  A stylized human face is drawn across the three visible faces, with one eye in the top face, the other eye on the left face, and the nose and mouth on the right face. The face looks alarmed.Art by Gaughan

Drahan is this month’s new author. Unfortunately, there’s no biographical information, so I don’t know anything about the person behind the initials. It’s a decent debut. Bits of the story may come across as confused with a casual reading, but careful attention should make everything clear. This is an author I’m willing to see more from.

Three stars.

A Game of Biochess, by T.J. Bass

On a layover at a space station, tramp trader Spider meets Rau Lou during a chess game (biochess refers to a game against a biological opponent, rather than a computer). The two hit it off, but not on a sexual level. When Spider has a big score that will let him upgrade his ship to a two-person crew, Olga the ship’s computer suggests Rau Lou. However, she has disappeared, so Spider and Olga go looking for her.

A black and white ink drawing of a person in a space suit traversing a valley amid barren, rocky terrain.Spider makes his way to the wreck of Rau Lou’s ship. Art by Gaughan

Bass is shaping up to be a pretty good writer. He still needs to work on throwing around medical terminology (Bass is a doctor), but he has reined it in this time. I only had to pull down my dictionary once. Otherwise, this is a fine story with a nice twist at the end.

A high three stars.

Hired Man, by Richard C. Meredith

A human mercenary working for an alien employer is the only survivor of a raid on a human settlement. The pay is excellent, and the offer for a six-month extension will set him up for a long time.

A charcoal drawing of a suit of powered armor.  It has spikes and round knobs poking out of it at various angles. It appears to be flying toward the viewer.Power armor, but this mercenary is no Johnny Rico. Art by Gaughan

All the previous Meredith stories I can think of have been brutal war tales with depth. This one is no different. The ending hits the protagonist with a question the reader has probably been asking all along.

Four stars.

Fruit of the Vine, by George C. Willick

The smuggling of flora and fauna between the worlds of the Federation is punishable with death. Somehow, grape varieties suitable for wine-making have reached almost every world. This story weaves three threads together: the official search for the smugglers, a group known as the Entertainers, and a skid row bum staggering through a winter night.

A charcoal drawing of a man in a space suit with the helmet off, such that his nose pokes out over the top of the suit collar. His eyes are crinkled as though he is smiling at what he is holding in his hand, which appers to be an hors d'oeuvre on a toothpick.Art by Gaughan

There are a lot of flaws in this story. It’s fairly obvious how two of the three threads tie together, the whole thing is too long, and the set-up is a little hard to believe. While the desire to keep potentially hazardous plants and animals from moving between worlds is commendable, are there really 49 habitable worlds where people can and are willing to eat the local produce from the moment they arrive? But it’s told well.

Three stars.

Dry Run, by J.R. Pierce

General Devlin, D.I.A., is a special adviser to the Prime Minister on the Panda War. In this case, D.I.A. stands for Demon In Attendance, not Defense Intelligence Agency. His job seems awfully easy.

A pen and ink drawing of a hairy black demon with curling horns, cloven hooves, and a pointy tail. Its blank white eyes glare out from behind the flagpole it is clutching.  The flag appears to be a stylized line drawing of the demon's own head. Probably not Devlin. Art by Gaughan

This is a fun, little story that proposes something I’m sure many of us have thought at times. The Vietnam analog is obvious, but not overdone. While it might be trivial, the whole thing doesn’t overstay its welcome.

Three stars.

Whipping Star (Part 2 of 4), by Frank Herbert

The alien Caleban Fanny Mae has signed an unbreakable contract with the human Mliss Abnethe, allowing herself to be whipped. The flagellations are killing Fanny Mae, and if she dies nearly every sentient being in the galaxy will die with her. It’s up to Saboteur Extraordinaire Jorj McKie to stop Mliss.

In this installment, McKie tracks Mliss to an impossibly primitive planet, where he finds himself imprisoned. We also learn that there is someone else driving Mliss to do what she’s doing. Time travel may also be involved. To be continued.

A black and white line drawing of a man lying on his back with his head toward the viewer.  His arms are flung out to the sides and extend out of the frame.  His feet are bare. Wispy gray shapes float around him.McKie favors the Bond school of defusing traps by walking into them. Art by Gaughan

I’m not sure if I really like this story, but it is keeping my interest. In many ways, this feels more like the Frank Herbert who wrote The Dragon in the Sea than the navel-gazer we’ve seen of late. There’s more action in the first chapter of this installment than in the whole of Dune Messiah. It remains to be seen how well he handles the interesting questions he’s asked so far.

Three stars.

Summing up

Elsewhere in the magazine, Lester del Rey is back in form, offering actual criticism over mere review. He might be the best reviewer in the magazines right now. I’d say his only competition is Joanna Russ over in F&SF. Meanwhile, Ejler Jakobsson’s answers in the letter column offer quite a bit of news. Philip José Farmer is working on a Riverworld novel, the promised new issue of Worlds of Tomorrow is coming soon, and there will be news about the IF First program in the near future.

All in all, not a bad issue. A couple of excellent stories and only one clunker out of nine. Jakobsson is turning out to be a fine replacement for Fred Pohl.






[December 10, 1968] Back and forth (January 1969 Galaxy)


by Gideon Marcus

Return to sender

The French economy has been rocky ever since the wave of strikes and protests in May.  As a result, France has been getting more and more goods from its industrial neighbor, West Germany.  The problem is France has to buy German goods in francs, which means that, more and more, francs are ending up in West German hands.  Franc reserves, at $6.9 billion in April 1968, are now down to $4 billion and plummeting.

To forestall a devaluation of the franc (reducing its value, thus making imports more expensive and exports more affordable to other nations, but playing hell with international economic relations in the process), DeGaulle's government is evaluating all sorts of Hail Mary options to stabilize the economy.  One that was rejected was the West German offer to invest directly in the French economy, which would leave them too in control of French assets (including the dwindling franc supply!) A proposal that was adopted was an increase in vehicle fuel costs; I gather fuel production is nationalized, and the government can't afford to sell it so cheaply.

But a sadder development involves the French post office-letters written to Santa Claus will no longer be answered.  Previously, kids who wrote to St. Nick got a colorful postcard with a message of Christmas cheer.  A West German offer to donate Elven postal braceros has been rejected.

Merry Christmas, indeed.  Maybe DeGaulle should convert to Judaism.  Then he can pray a great miracle will happen in Paris for Hannukah, and the franc reserve will last eight years instead of one…

Flickering candles

Here in the good old U.S. of A., we don't have such economic woes (though inflation is kicking in).  All I have to worry about is whether the first Galaxy of the year is any good.  In other words, has the value of the magazine been devalued?  Let's find out!


by Gray Morrow

Foeman, Where Do You Flee?, by Ben Bova

On Titan, the alien machines (first seen six years ago in "The Towers of Titan") rumble on, their purpose unknown, as they have for millennia.  Humanity, terrified of their implications, begins searching the stars for their creator.  And so, one ship, the Carl Sagan, makes the 15 year trip to Sirius A-2, a barren but Earthlike world orbiting the blazing blue sun.

Sid Lee, an anthropologist onboard, is convinced that Earth once warred with the aliens who build the machines of Titan, and that humans lost, reverting to savagery.  The crew of the Sagan are surprised not only to find a group of intelligent beings on the alien world, but that they are indistinguishable from Homo Sapiens Sapiens.  Lee volunteers to live among them, hiding his extraterrestrial origin, to learn the truth of the Sirians, and how they fit into the ancient, hypothetical war.


by Reese

There's a lot to like about this piece, especially the methodical, painfully slow, expedition protocols.  The crew wear suits when they go outside.  Extreme caution is taken in scouting.  It takes months before Lee is even allowed to infilitrate the aliens.

Bova reminds me a bit of Niven in his weaving together hard science fiction and a compelling story.  However, the author does not have Niven's mastery of the craft, and the story feels a bit clunky.  Moreover, the "revelations" of the tale are telegraphed, and the red herrings Bova throws in to keep the mystery going are not convincing.

I enjoyed the story, but it's difficult to decide if it's a high 3 or a low 4.  I think I will go with the latter because it's clear this novella is only part of a bigger story, one that looks like it will be fascinating to read.

The Thing-of-the-Month Clubs, by John Brunner

In what looks like the final entry in the Galactic Consumer Report series, the editor of the fictional magazine reviews various [THING]-of-the-Month Clubs.  Specifically, the editor is looking for high cost and ephemeral items for worlds with >100% income tax.

Droll.  Forgettable.  Three stars, I guess.

Parimutuel Planet, by James Tiptree, Jr.


by Blakely

A fellow named Christmas runs the premier racing planet in the galaxy: Raceworld!  He deals with a number of headaches including various attempts to fix the games by a number of different species.  The thing reads breezily, shallowly, in a style I was sure I'd read before…and sure enough, looking through back reviews, I found the story I was thinking of ("Birth of a Salesman") was, indeed, written by one James Tiptree Jr.

I found this story even less compelling.  One star.

Dunderbird, by Harlan Ellison and Keith Laumer


by Jack Gaughan

I'm not sure how Harlan Ellison ends up bylining with so many different authors these days: Sheckley, Delany, and now Laumer.

The premise: a giant pteranodon falls out of the sky onto the streets of New York, crushing 83 people under its unnaturally heavy corpse.  The rest of the story is a detailing of the many odd characters who come across the flying lizard and their reactions to it.

Pointless and unfunny, I have to wonder if Ellison attaches his name to things just to get them published for friends.  It's not doing the brand any favors.

One star.

For Your Information: The Written Word, by Willy Ley

This is a nice piece on the history of writing materials (which is, by definition, the history of history) from Greek times to modern day.

Ley wraps up with a primer on how to send and decode interstellar messages, which I quite enjoyed.

Interestingly, though he talks about microfiche and microfilm, he does not mention the possibility of more-or-less permanent documents within the memory banks of computers.  I know it may seem frivolous to store the written word on such expensive media as the Direct Access Storage Devices (DASD) used by IBM 360 computers, but in fact, such is being done as we speak.  I have used time share systems to send frivolous messages to others on home-grown "mail" systems, and also created data sets that were text files, both as memos and as "documents" for other users to read.  And, of course, there are data sets that are programs that, once loaded into permanent memory via punch card or teletype, are there to stay.  At least until an electrical pulse fries the whole thing.

Of course, that's a pretty rarefied use, but it's still interesting and relevant for those in the biz.

Anyway, four stars.

The Organleggers, by Larry Niven


by Jack Gaughan

Gil Hamilton, an agent of the the United Nations police force —Amalgamated Regional Militias (ARM)—is called regarding a death.  Not because he's a cop, but because he's next of kin of the deceased, a Belter named Owen Jennison.  The spaceman's demise looks like a particularly elaborate suicide: he is in a chair hooked up to a device that uses electric current to stimulate the pleasure center of one's brain, and he apparently starved, quite happily, to death.

But as Gil puts the pieces together, he comes to the conclusion that Jennison must have been murdered.  Which means there's a murderer.  Which means there are clues.  And since it's Niven's Earth in the 22nd Century, organleggers are probably involved.

Did I mention that Gil also has psychic powers?  He has a third, telekinetic arm, which comes in very handy.  It's also the first time that I've seen this particular idea.  It breathes new life into a hoary subject.

As does all of the story, honestly.  Niven is simply a master of organically conveying information, letting you live in his universe, absorbing details as they become pertinent.  There's nothing of the New Wave to his work save that his writing is qualitatively different from what we saw in prior eras.

He's also written a gripping fusion of the science fiction and detective genres, perhaps the best yet.

Five stars. 

Welcome Centaurians, by Ted Thomas

Aliens arrive from Proxima Centauri.  Though they make contact with many of Earth's nations while cautiously assaying us from orbit, their captain forms a bond with Colonel Lee Nessing of NORAD.  After a long conversation, the aliens agree to land in New York, whereupon friendly relations are established.

This is a cute, nothing story whose charm comes mostly from the chummy relationship between Lee and "Mat", the Proximan that looks like a floor rug.  My biggest issue is the gimmick ending, in which it is revealed that ancient Proximans caused the death of the dinosaurs by seeding the Earth with food animals—which turned out to be early mammals.

The problem: mammals evolved from reptiles 200 million years ago.  That event is well documented in the fossil record and is referenced in my copy of The Meaning of Evolution (1949) by George Gaylord Simpson.  This sort of basic evolutionary mistake seems pretty common in science fiction, where writers try to ascribe extraterrestrial origin to obviously terrestrial creatures (humans are the most frequent example).

Three stars.

Value for money

If there's anything the January 1969 issue of Galaxy proves, it's that even good money can't guarantee a return.  Editor Fred Pohl paid 4 cents a word for all of the pieces in this issue, and to his credit, more than half the words are in four/five star pieces.  On the other hand, two of the stories are mediocre, and two are absolutely awful.  It's like Pohl got his tales from a mystery bag and had to take what he got, good or bad.

Well, the superior stuff would fill an ordinary sized magazine, so I shan't complain.  Read the Bova, the Ley, and the Niven.  Then put the issue under your tree for others to discover Christmas morning…