Diabolical Plots – Page 53 – From Inspiration to Ink…

THEATER REVIEW: Animaniacs Live

written by David Steffen

Animaniacs was a comedy cartoon show produced by Steven Spielberg that ran from 1993 to 1998, first on Fox, and then on the WB. It was set up as a variety show with several short skits per episode starring different casts of characters–the most often recurring being the Warners: Yakko, Wakko, and Dot who live in the water tower on the Warner Brothers studio lot. The show was most known for clever and funny songwriting as well as humor that was meant to appeal to adults as well as children, often making jokes about Hollywood.

Animaniacs is back in the form of the live show Animaniacs Live. Voice actor Rob Paulsen and songwriter Randy Rogel headline the show, with special guest. You might not immediately recognize those names, but if you watched Animaniacs you’re already familiar with their work. Rob Paulsen played the roles of Yakko, Pinky (of Pinky and the Brain), and Doctor Scratchandsniff–he has also done voice acting work for other cartoons, see his website for more information. Rob Rogel wrote many of the songs for Animaniacs, including Emmy-winning “A Quake! A Quake!”.

We saw the show in Saint Paul, in a pilot showing on April 9th–the first official show was in La Mirada CA April 15th.

Looking at the product page for the La Mirada show I think that the production of the pilot may have been very limited compared to the full show that will be on tour. What we saw had 2-3 people on stage and a piano, and a projector screen above the stage. Rob Paulsen sang, Randy Rogel played the piano and sang, and with the special guest most often providing harmony. The projection screen was used about twice during the show–once leading up to to the show, and once to show a song later on. The La Mirada ticket page shows a symphony onstage, so it sounds like there might be quite a bit more going on in the official tour.

So, I don’t know how the full production affects the format of the show–maybe it’s the same general format, just with more musical performers. The show that we saw alternated between talking for a few minutes about the show and then leading into musical numbers. They sang some of the more well-known songs from the show, so you should be able to sing along with those. They also included some alternate endings to songs that Rob Rogel submitted and was asked to change, as well as at least an entire song that didn’t make it on the show. They also talked about the creative process, how a song goes from his composing studio to the screen, about what it was like to work on the show, about other projects they’ve worked on, and so on.

I love seeing voice actors whose work I know in person because it is so strange and exciting to hear the voice you know and love coming from a completely unfamiliar face. For that alone the show is worth seeing, and the extra material like changed endings and cut songs and commentary make it sort of like a live show of DVD extras about the TV show. If you liked Animaniacs, odds are good you’ll like the show. If you’re not familiar with Animaniacs, but you like funny songs and live performances, odds are still good you’ll like the show.

One thing that wasn’t really clear to me from the marketing leading up to the show was: is the show intended for kids? We brought a child to the show, thinking that they would be performing the songs live while they projected the cartoons on a screen. The show wasn’t really set up for kids that age–sometimes-long segments of talking between songs, and almost no showing of the cartoons. Again, we didn’t see the full show, so maybe they use the projector more during the official run which would probably get kids more into it, but at least the version we saw it was difficult for a kid to sit through.

They also had a Q&A session after the show where they would take questions from the audience. Which sounded wonderful, but we decided we needed to leave, rather than subject the kid to any more waiting. I’m not sure if the Q&A will be a feature of all their shows or if they were using the pilot as a way to gather some more questions they might ask during the show itself.

I’ll be interested in seeing how the show does as a whole, and hearing what the full show is like that apparently has the live orchestra and etc.

DP Fiction #27A: “The Things You Should Have Been” by Andrea G. Stewart

“You should have been a doctor,” my mother said. She squinted at me through the screen, as though the new computer I’d bought her had some secret flaw. She never quite trusted that it was better than her old one. “You always liked stitching when you were small. Remember that shirt you made? So many compliments!”

“Mom, it’s a little late for that. I’m thirty-three.” I tugged at the hem of my jacket, my elbows rubbing against the chair’s metal armrests. Fidgeting usually helped me calm my nerves. It didn’t help now. It had seemed simple on paper: five years away from home. Now the only thing I could think of was the blackness of space beyond these metal walls.

“Never too late.” Wisps of gray hair escaped from her bun, brushing the sides of her cheeks. She turned back to the pan on the stove. “You put your mind to something, you can do it. All my children—very capable.”

I could almost smell the soy sauce and chives, the sesame oil on the edge of burning. It made me miss home, more than just a little. “Stitching isn’t the only prerequisite to become a doctor.”

She sliced the air with her chopsticks. “But you’re good at memorizing.”

I focused on the soft glow of the LED lights above my head. “Stitching and memorizing–I’ll be sure to put that on my application. Lei Wong: he once stitched his own shirt.”

“Lei,” she said, “I’m serious.” She disappeared from view and I heard the clink of bottles as she rummaged through the cupboards. I was pretty sure my colleagues’ mothers didn’t cook while they were on vid calls.

“I’m serious too. I’ll update my resume. First thing when I get back.”

She popped into view once more, her face taking up the entire screen. “A lawyer, then. You’re good at arguing. Also good at making your mother feel bad.”

“Do lawyers make their mothers feel bad?”

“The ones who don’t listen do.”

I sighed and shifted in my seat. The cushion was thin, and I could feel the cold metal beneath it. No luxury, here. “I’m trying to listen.”

“Who said I was talking about you? I was talking about lawyers.” She gave a triumphant shrug and lifted the pan, shoveling greens onto a plate. When she was finished, she leaned on the counter, her face in profile. The sunlight from the window trickled into the creases on her temples, highlighted the places on the counter where the laminate had begun to wear away.

A knock sounded on the door behind me. “Two minutes.”

My mother gave me a sideways look. She’d heard it too. Her lips pressed together; her fingers curled around the edge of the countertop. “You could have been a comedian. Just making jokes. All the time. Taking nothing seriously.”

“Mom…”

She pushed away from the counter. “You can still do something else. Anything else.”

“I’ve got two minutes before we leave.”

She shook her head, her brow furrowed. Her hands wove through the air, wildly, like broken-winged birds. “Still enough time! Tell them you changed your mind. They can bring you back.”

They could. They’d never let me leave Earth again, but they could. I thought of returning to California, having my feet on real, solid ground again, standing in my mother’s kitchen and pleating dumplings, the smell of pork and cooked cabbage thick in the air. I couldn’t say it didn’t tempt me.

I checked the clock in the corner of my screen. A little over a minute before we began preparations to initiate the warp drive, before we left the solar system and ventured into the unknown. “But this is what I want to do. I’ve worked my whole life for this.” Hours of study, of physical preparations, of navigating paperwork and interpersonal relationships. “I’ll stay safe.”

My mother closed her eyes. “Always higher, always further, ever since you were a boy. You never knew how to stay safe. You’re thousands of miles away from safe.” Her shoulders hunched. She set the chopsticks down and lined them up until they were parallel, a small space in between. “I know you want to do this, and I’m proud of you, I really am. I’m just not ready.” A wan smile flitted across her face. “Lei Wong: space pilot.”

I gave her a return smile–one I hoped was reassuring despite the flicker of fear in my chest. “I’ll come home.”

She jabbed a finger at the screen. “Good. Maybe then you can try stitching again, instead.”

“I can try. Bye, mom. Love you. Catch you on the flip side.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Probably not a comedian. Not very funny.”

The screen went black.

“Ready?” Susan, my copilot, peeked inside the door.

I put my hands to the armrests, rose to my feet, and took a deep breath, the anxiety in my chest finally easing. “I think so.”

I could have sworn the air smelled of sesame oil.

Author’s Note: This story was inspired by my mom, who can be alternately critical and alternately amazed at what I’ve accomplished–and sometimes both at the same time! I think, for her, my life will always be one of possibilities, even if I’ve set my feet firmly on one path.

Andrea Stewart was born in Canada and raised in a number of places across the United States. She spent her childhood immersed in Star Trek and odd-smelling library books. When her dreams of becoming a dragon slayer didn’t pan out, she instead turned to writing. Her work has appeared in Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, and Daily Science Fiction.

If you enjoyed the story you might also want to visit our Support Page, or read the other story offerings.

MOVIE REVIEW: Moana

written by David Steffen

Moana is a 2016 animated comedy/action film from Disney.

Moana (Auli’i Cravalho) is the chieftan’s daughter on the island of a Polynesian island of Motunui. The tribe has lived there happily as long as they remember, living off the bounties of the island the lagoon around. The ocean has been forbidden to them for generations, since the demigod Maui (Dwayne Johnson) stole the heart of Te Fiti, the goddess who gave life to all the islands before himself being seperated from his magical fishhook that served as both a weapon and as the aid to his magical transformative power to turn into animals of the air and sea.

Since she was a baby, Moana has always felt drawn to the ocean, despite her father’s attempts to keep her away. One day she finds that the ocean has an affinity for her as well, seeming to beckon her out into it–she finds the secret of her people’s past, that they had been nomads of the ocean. She follows the call of the sea to seek out Maui and the heart of Te Fiti to raise the curse of the seas.

This movie was a lot of fun, and the songs were great–no wonder it had so many Oscar nominations. My particular favorite song was “Shiny”, sung by Jemaine Clement in his role as the villain Tamatoa, and with music written by Lin-Manuel Miranda. Solid sense of humor, great interactions between the two main characters of Maui and Moana, heartfelt moments, lots of riproaring action sequences. So much here to love, fun for kids and adults, I recommend it.

Poetry Features on the Submission Grinder

written by David Steffen

The most often requested feature on the Submission Grinder since it’s launch more than four years ago has been support for poetry listings. This support has finally been published. Most importantly the poetry advanced search page you can use to find new poetry markets here.

You can use the site without registering and use the search to find markets. or look at individual markets. If you register you will be able to track your submissions and from market listings search for your poems that fit the requirements that you haven’t submitted to that market before, and so on.

Of course, since poetry support has been a thing for less than 24 hours there are not many poetry listings filled in yet. Over 200 poetry markets have stub listings that users have requested for poetry tracking over the last few years, so I need to fill those in with full details, and of course if there are any that don’t have listings feel free to suggest.

Some further development needs to be done for what I would consider full poetry support. Notably missing at this point is support for markets that accept BOTH fiction and poetry (I know this is necessary, but because this requires some more development work I figured I may as well release the poetry-only market capability while I am working).

Let me know what you think, feel free to suggest new markets or new poetry-related features.

REVIEW: Hugo Short Story Finalists

written by David Steffen

Science fiction award season is here again, and the Hugo final ballot was announced for WorldCon 75 in Helsinki Finland. Lots of familiar names and publications on the list, and I’m looking forward to reading more of their work. Note that this year marks the instatement of some new rules by those who attended the WSFS meetings at the last two WorldCons, meant to counteract the voter collusion dominating the ballot in the last few years. First, although voters could still only nominate five things for each category, there are six finalists on the ballot instead of five. Second, there is a new nomination-counting procedure in place meant to weaken the effect of large groups of people voting for the exact same ballot, a rule called E Pluribus Hugo which I have researched and understood and then completely forgotten about several times since it was first proposed a couple years ago. And the rule changes do appear to have an effect–the ballot looks different than it has the last couple of years.

On to the short story category, my favorite category of all the Hugo categories, covering stories less than 7500 words. This review covers five of the six nominees.

1. “Our Talons Can Crush Galaxies”, by Brooke Bolander (Uncanny Magazine, November 2016)

“This is not the story of how he killed me, thank fuck.” So goes the memorable opening line of this story, both a fantasy story about the vengeance of a demigoddess, as well as a metanarrative about the stories we tell about killers and not about the killed.

Short and to the point, Bolander never beats around the bush. She gets right to the point and gets her point across in an entertaining way and is done before you’ve had chance to really consider what just happened. This story refuses to bow to the convention of trying to humanize the abuser, and engages with that choice directly right in the first two paragraphs.

2. “That Game We Played During the War”, by Carrie Vaughn (Tor.com, March 2016)

The war is almost over, in all but the most official of ways, and Calla is going into the heart of enemy territory to visit a friend from the other side as he lays in the hospital. Larn, who she is visiting, is a Gaant, who are telepathic. Calla is an Enith who are not. During her time in the war she had both a nurse watching over Larn and other prisoners of war, as well as a prisoner herself who was watched over by Larn. In their time together they forged a connection between them, based around her teaching him how to play chess. The Gaant as a rule don’t play games like chess because being able to read another person’s mind makes it hard to win games of strategy. But Calla is going to play one last game.

This is a solid story built around a simple premise, and I loved to see the friendship they formed even in the most hostile of environments and when everything in the world was stacked against that friendship. Friendship is a powerful thing.

3. “Seasons of Glass and Iron”, by Amal El-Mohtar (The Starlit Wood: New Fairy Tales, Saga Press)

This is the story of two women who are the protagonists of different fairy tales meeting each other and what happens after. Tabitha is a woman cursed to wear seven pairs iron shoes of iron shoes, one after the other, and walk and walk and walk until they are all worn down to nothing. Amira is a woman cursed to sit in complete stillness on the top of a glass hill, a hill surrounded by her suitors who try again and again to climb the hill to reach her. Tabitha’s iron shoes grip the hill and so the women meet and become friends.

Another solid story about the power of friendship, this one about the sympathy we have for the bad situations of our friends even when we can’t seem to see our equally bad situations that we are in, and how having friends you can trust to lend you perspective on your life can mean everything in the world.

4. “The City Born Great”, by N. K. Jemisin (Tor.com, September 2016)

When cities reach a certain age, a certain stage, then they are born from the dead collection of objects that they are into a living breathing thinking creature. This is a dangerous time because there are things that prey on newborn cities, killing them while they are drawing their first breath. Each city has a midwife, who can use their magical song to help their city through this fight. It is almost time for New York City to be born, and a young Black man is about to learn he is the midwife.

Action packed story with a really cool fantasy premise and striking imagery, Jemisin’s story is grounded in a sense of place, perfect for a story that is all about a place becoming a sort of gargantuan person. This is a standalone story, but this could easily be a series as different cities wake up.

5. “A Fist of Permutations in Lightning and Wildflowers”, by Alyssa Wong (Tor.com, March 2016)

Melanie and Hannah are sisters, with the power over weather and time. When things got bad at home, Melanie chose to stay, and Hannah chose to leave. Hannah takes a flight home, the first time she’s come back in years, and the skies open for Melanie and Hannah witnesses her death by lightning. Determined to fix this, Hannah tries again, rolling time back and trying a different way to save her sister. Again and again she tries to get there in time to save Melanie.

A story of sisterly love and of coming to understand someone who you already thought you had known, of fighting against impossible odds to fix the world for someone you love. Solid, fast-paced, very well done.

DP Fiction #26B: “The Long Pilgrimage of Sister Judith” by Paul Starkey

When she heard the call to prayer Sister Judith knew something was wrong, even if she couldn’t immediately identify what was amiss. As she was wont to do when she was anxious, she tugged at the rosary around her neck, and it was as she did this that her mind put two and two together.

Around her on the Deck Eleven concourse the mellifluous call to prayer was echoing from the Voxes hung around the neck of every Brother and Sister, Novice and Postulant. It was not, however, coming from the Vox hung from the rosary around her neck.

She examined the device, elegantly curved in the shape of a figure eight, symbol of her faith. None of the lights on the upper portion were lit, not even the one indicative of a fault.

She glanced nervously around her, at her fellow adherents of the Greater Journey hurrying this way and that, heading for their preferred chapel. Brothers and Sisters chattered away, heads held high. The Novices remained in their groups of six, heads always bowed, chanting the triptych under their breath as they were required to do when they were called to prayer.

“Dedication- Deceleration- Destination.”

And finally the Postulants, clambering up from their knees, bending their legs and rubbing at their kneecaps before they headed off after the others. Heads bowed like the Novices, but not in groups, not chanting, not even talking, obedient to their vows of solitude and silence.

Sister Judith felt suddenly out of place. If she just continued to stand there eventually people would notice, not only those of the Faith, but the secularum as well: the engineers and teachers, the labourers and schoolchildren. She felt suddenly like a criminal, as if she’d done something wrong, been singled out for some divine punishment.

She should act as if she had heard the call, or else find a touchscreen and advise the communetor that her Vox was broken. Instead she just stood there, seized by a rare moment of indecision. It was not a feeling she was used to.

“Don’t fret, Sister Judith, nothing is wrong.”

She turned and bowed her head. “Maven Angelica. “

“Oh lift your head, girl. It’s been ten years since you were a Novice.”

Sister Judith smiled as she complied; Maven Angelica’s tone had been playful. Though she’d rarely spoken with the head of the Faith, Judith had heard her speak many times, and knew from these occurrences, and the comments of others, that she was not, nor ever had been, a strict disciplinarian. Not all Mavens had been so accommodating.

Despite the fact that she was a familiar figure around the Ark, it always surprised her to see Maven Angelica wearing the familiar cerulean habit of their order, but no wimple, her grey hair instead hung freely in several haphazard plaits. Sister Judith had to resist the urge to adjust her own wimple, suddenly paranoid that a scrap of blonde hair might be poking free.

No one knew exactly how old Maven Angelica was, but she had been Maven for as long as Sister Judith could remember; her first memory of this serene woman was as clear as her memory of yesterday. She’d been four, which meant Maven Angelica had held office for at least thirty years.

She was a striking woman despite her age, which had crooked her shoulders and necessitated a small metal cane, and despite the recent stroke that had caused the left side of her face to fall ever so slightly and was responsible for a vague slur to her voice. Her skin was clear of lines, her hazel eyes still bright. In her heart Sister Judith thought Maven Angelica was probably more beautiful in her dotage than she’d been in her prime.

“I’m sorry, Maven.”

Maven Angelica threw a dismissive hand in the air, her other remained wedded to her cane. “I’m too old for apologies. You’ll realise, as you age, that there are many things you don’t have the time for any more.” She smiled. “And talking of time, you and I have an appointment.”

“We do?”

“Yes. That’s why I’m here, and that is why your Vox did not issue you with the Call to Prayer. You have a more important matter to attend to, one that will entail us taking a trip to the Cartography Chapel.”

Sister Judith’s eyes widened. The Cartography Chapel was a place of great reverence, one that even a Maven only entered rarely.

She had many questions, but to ask might seem impertinent, so she sidestepped the sanctified nature of the Chapel, and instead focused on more rational concerns. “I should pack, such a pilgrimage will take several days.” Which was putting it mildly, to walk to the bow of the ship from their current position in the port transept would take her at least two days at a brisk pace, and she doubted Maven Angelica would be able to walk as quickly, so it might take three or four. They would need to arrange lodgings on the way and…

“That won’t be necessary, we’ll take the monorail.”

Sister Judith was shocked again. For the Adherents of the Greater Journey, faith was about struggle, about not taking the easier path. Unless they were aged, or otherwise infirm, those of the Faith were expected to walk everywhere, to clamber between decks along rickety ladders rather than taking the elevators, to spend days on journeys that would take the secularum mere minutes. Sister Judith hadn’t ridden the monorail since childhood.

Now she knew she must say something, even if it came out as impertinent. “Maven. After your years of selfless service to the Greater Journey you have earned the right to forgo the basic tenet of our Faith, but I am not nearly as worthy. I at least should walk.”

For a moment Maven Angelica stared at her, her face an unemotional mask, and then the old woman laughed. “Oh, you are a serious one, aren’t you? That’s good. The Faith needs strong souls, minds that will not bend… but sometimes faith must be flexible. How else to survive the strongest storms, eh?”

Sister Judith wasn’t sure she understood, but she nodded anyway. She had challenged the Maven’s request and her challenge had been discounted. She could only hope that the grand old woman had the best interests of the Greater Journey at heart.

There were several dozen people waiting at the monorail station, but as they saw the Maven approach they all stepped aside: young or old, man or woman, technician or artisan. Sister Judith felt like a fraud and she kept her gaze downcast, even as Maven Angelica conversed with people as they passed.

She glanced up only once, to find a small boy staring at her. He had tousled black hair and wore a vermillion cloak that was well-made enough to suggest his parents were high-ranking, or else were garmenters and had made it themselves. She smiled at him. He blushed and her smile broadened.

Despite the amusing interlude with the child, she was grateful when they were safely within the carriage. There was room for six, but no one would have dreamed of joining them.

They sat facing one another. The Maven looked at Sister Judith, but the younger woman found herself conflicted as the carriage began to move off.

“You can look. I realise this is a novelty for you.”

Sister Judith nodded, then—feeling slightly guilty—she glanced out of the window.

Her timing had been impeccable, because the carriage exited the tunnel a moment later, into the cavernous expanse of Plantation Two. She had to resist the urge to gasp, so long had it been since she’d seen this view.

Plantation Two was located on Deck Seven. Technically the rail they rode along counted as Deck Eleven and glancing up she saw bright sun-lights affixed to the ceiling roughly two decks above them.

She looked down once more, at the narrow strips of green and brown where men and women toiled, cultivating food to feed the Flock. The three plantations were located far apart, providing redundancy in case of a disaster.

And then the world below was gone as they were swallowed by a tunnel once more. Maven Angelica had obviously been waiting for this. “Your faith is very strong isn’t it?”

“I…I like to think so.”

The Maven nodded. “You’re being modest. You scrubbed your name from the Troth List before puberty, turning your back on even the possibility of pollination. Instead from a young age you pledged yourself to the Greater Journey. You were a Postulant at fourteen, one of the youngest ever.” She smiled. “I was eighteen when I took the vow.”

“It’s not something I can explain, but as far back as I remember I knew that I wanted to dedicate myself to the Greater Journey. I remember Brothers and Sisters visiting school. They seemed so wise, so serene. I envied them that. We watched recordings of Maven Charlz. He was very inspiring.”

“He was a fine mentor, he taught me so much.”

“He was a great Maven…” She paused. “Of course, so are you.”

Maven Angelica smiled. “The Greater Journey is beyond ego, Sister Judith. You’ll realise that when you take my place.”

“Me? But…”

“But nothing. I have watched you for a long time, spoken with those of the secularum as well as those of the Faith. Academician Singer says you have a sharp intellect, that if you had not taken the vows you would have made a fine engineer, you have that clarity of thought, an utterly logical mind. Indeed,” she grinned, “I have heard that your quarters are so neat and tidy they put all your fellows to shame.”

“Order is preferable to chaos.”

“So said Maven Josept almost five generations ago.”

Sister Judith nodded. “After the Mutiny.” She took a calming breath. “Order is preferable to chaos. Love is preferable to lust. Faith is preferable to self. As a shark must swim to live, so we must journey to survive, a creature with many hearts but one purpose.” She smiled as she finished the recitation.

“You know the speech well.”

“I admire him. He was Maven in troubling times.”

“Indeed, though one hopes a Maven is never again compelled to take such action.”

“The sacrifice of the fifteen?”

The Maven nodded.

Light flared. Instinctively Sister Judith looked away as the carriage exited the tunnel and Plantation One was revealed. She stared down, shielding her gaze from the sun-lights above as she focused on a circle of figures. She couldn’t be sure, but she imagined there was a grave at the centre of the group, one of the Flock returning to the soil, even as their soul was likely already going through the recyclers, being cleansed of sin in preparation for a new life come the next pollination.

“Dedication- Deceleration- Destination,” she whispered.

* * *

At the bridge terminus there were more curious looks from those waiting for the monorail, but no one said a word.

Sister Judith was unused to being stared at. Suddenly finding herself the focus of attention was unsettling, but if she was to be the next Maven—what a ridiculous thought it still seemed—she would need to get used to this.

Entering the bridge calmed her. Despite its size, despite the thousand twinkling lights and the cacophony of beeps and chatter, it was a familiar place. She occasionally helped to monitor the antigravity systems. She recognised people, and whilst the fact she was with the Maven drew attention, no one knew she hadn’t walked here.

“Maven, good to see you,” said Captain Pryce turning from his command dais. He gave a tiny bow before extending his right hand. He was wafer thin, and many of the secularum joked that one day he’d slip between the grills of an air vent and be lost forever.

They only joked when he wasn’t around however, for his temper was ferocious.

“Oliver.” The Maven took the proffered hand. “I believe you know Sister Judith.”

The Captain smiled at her, it was a smile of familiarity, yet something more as well, as if it wasn’t just that he recognised her from her tithed service, but was also aware of some greater secret regarding her. Did he know she was to become Maven?

“Can I help you?”

“It’s probably nothing, Oliver, summoned to the Chapel by high and mighty circuit boards.” He laughed at that. “We’ll leave you to your work.”

Sister Judith stumbled after her Maven, her initial feelings of familiarity gone now as they stepped around the command dais.

The bridge was elliptical in shape, with a mezzanine level circling above where more secularum worked. There were empty stations, where those of the Faith had taken their leave to pray, but there were still several dozen sets of eyes within the room, and Sister Judith felt them all on her as they approached the hallowed door at the head of the bridge.

The door was unremarkable. Still Sister Judith felt her legs weaken as they drew near, and when the Maven dropped to her knees and bowed her head she gratefully followed suit.

They chanted the triptych three times, and then the Maven stood and approached the door. She placed her palm flat against the wall beside the doorway. A moment later the door spun sideways into the wall, revealing darkness within. Without hesitation she strode inside. Sister Judith followed, feeling as if the stares of the crew were pushing her on.

Darkness swallowed her, and she felt an unaccustomed emotion as the light behind vanished with the closing door. Fear. Despite the vastness of the Ark there were precious few nooks and crannies that she had never visited, but the Cartography Chapel was such a place, and the notion of unfamiliarity, even when it was holy, terrified her.

Lights flared.

“A little underwhelming, isn’t it?”

“Not at all,” she answered quickly, though in truth it was. In her imagination the Cartography Chapel was a lavish cathedral twice the size of the bridge. The reality was a room barely five metres square, the walls bare metal. No furniture.

“It’s all right, Sister Judith; sanctity does not require scale, or majesty. Now then…” Maven Angelica cleared her throat. “Computer, please confirm identity.”

Sister Judith frowned. She was surprised. It wasn’t like the word “computer” was forbidden, but it was terribly old-fashioned.

“Biometric sensors confirm identity of supplicants as Maven Angelica and Maven-elect Judith.” She was again disappointed. She had expected a smooth, glorious voice, but the rasping whisper that echoed forth wasn’t even as clear as the communetor’s voice.

“Wait, it knows I’m Maven-elect?”

“It does.” Maven Angelica smiled at her. “Succession of the Faith is not a matter to be taken lightly. Every Maven identifies potential successors from the moment of their accession. The list evolves over time of course—you were only a baby when I took office, after all—but the communetor knows them all. If something happened to a Maven the communetor would ensure succession.”

Sister Judith was astounded. Half an hour ago she’d been ordinary. Now she stood in the Cartography Chapel. Now she was Maven-elect, and beyond this she had been Maven-elect for some time. Her head was spinning, and it must have shown on her face.

“I’m sorry, this should have been handled better, but I wasn’t expecting this.” She tilted her Vox slightly. Sister Judith could see an amber light she’d never seen lit on anyone’s Vox before. “Journey Control were careful to ensure we did not know when our voyage would end, so that each generation would have hope. It would have been vanity to believe Deceleration and Destination would arrive during my tenure, but I shouldn’t have ignored the possibility.”

Sister Judith felt her legs weaken once more. “Deceleration…Destination…” her mouth was suddenly, achingly dry.

Maven Angelica was beaming. “Indeed. That our faith, as laid down by the tenets of Journey Control, should bear fruit in our lifetime. Oh I feel giddy.” She turned. “Computer, I received a destination notification, please confirm specifics.”

“Arrival at final waypoint has been achieved. A verbal order is required to begin deceleration into destination orbit.” The words were so dry, so banal, yet they made Sister Judith tremble.

“Computer, provide forward visual.”

The far wall seemed to vanish, and Sister Judith gasped as she beheld a dark void lit by myriad stars. “Do you understand what you are seeing?” asked the Maven.

“This is the view ahead, but because of our speed some of those stars are actually behind us. That is the miracle of aberration.”

“We are travelling at half the speed of light. If we were to go closer to light speed, those stars, every star, would appear in a cluster in front of us. Truly a miracle. One of those stars is Destination. And we are almost there.” She cleared her throat again. “Computer, once the order to decelerate is given what is the timescale for arrival?”

“Deceleration to orbit will take Ark Three approximately fifty days.”

“Fifty days,” said the Maven with reverence. “Fifty days until we reach Destination…”

Sister Judith’s eyes widened as she struggled to take this in. Deceleration and Destination were tenets of the faith, yes. But in truth, much like the Maven, she hadn’t expected to actually live to see them. And Ark Three? That implied two others at least. Had the Faith stayed true aboard those other Arks, or had heresy taken hold?

“I wonder what Destination will be like?”

Sister Judith wondered too. She had studied the memory files of Earth: it had seemed chaotic, undisciplined, the environment not something that could be easily controlled like the Ark’s. Pollination would run rampant, the Flock would spread across this new world within a handful of generations. They would form tribes, and eventually they would form nations. Would those nations battle over resources as those on Earth had?

The Maven took a deep breath, straightened her back. “Computer, this is a verbal order to…” The command was cut off as Sister Judith took hold of the Maven’s rosary and pulled it tight against her trachea. The old woman made a gurgling sound and her hands immediately went to her throat to try and pull the rosary from where it was choking her. It was a logical instinct, but also flawed, because it meant she took her hand from her cane, and as she did her legs gave out and she fell, her own momentum hastening her strangulation.

Sister Judith followed her down, dropping painfully to her knees. She held tight to the rosary and with each passing second it got easier, despite the Maven’s struggles. As the Maven died Sister Judith repeated the triptych over and over again with tears in her eyes, trying to soothe the old woman into the next world, consoling herself that her soul would be recycled.

And then it was over. Sister Judith released the rosary and shuffled back from the body, clasping a hand to her mouth as she sobbed. What have I done?

Of course what she had done was put the Greater Journey first, put it above even the Maven’s life. Deceleration and Destination might be the gleaming Eden at the end of the Greater Journey, but she could not shake the feeling that they might also prove their undoing.

“As a shark must swim to live, so we must journey to survive, a creature with many hearts, but one purpose,” she quoted to herself.

Life aboard the Ark was self-contained, ordered, safe. Now she realised that Deceleration and Destination were a test, a test of faith. They were temptations away from order. Which meant the true heart of the triptych was Determination. Determination to do what was best for the Flock, and what was best was that the journey continued.

She stood. “Commu…computer?”

“Yes, Maven Judith?”

She shivered at that. “What happens if the order to decelerate is not given?”

“If a verbal order is not received within nineteen minutes navigational systems will realign course to the next habitable destination.”

“What is the travel time to that destination?”

“Ninety four years.”

Her tears had stopped. She would wait here for the next nineteen minutes. After that she would leave the chapel and explain that the communetor had advised that Destination was still decades away, and that the shock had been too much for Maven Angelica. She was old, so it would be believed, and it was forbidden to perform an autopsy upon a member of the Faith. After that she would insist on a pilgrimage, as penance for not being able to save Maven Angelica. She would walk to the stern basilica, to the port and starboard transepts. She would walk every corridor, and speak to every member of the Flock. She would hold true to her belief that she had done the right thing.

She only hoped that, in ninety four years’ time, her successor would do the same.

Author’s Note: I’m not sure where the initial germ of this idea came from, but the notion of a religious order existing on a generational starship quickly took hold and once I began thinking about the Adherents of the Greater Journey ideas flowed thick and fast about just what form this religion might take, and about what its adherents might be like. Much like religions existing on Earth today I liked the idea that different people would see different things in the tenets of the faith. I still can’t decide whether this was a religion that evolved organically aboard ship, or whether it was something cynically placed on board by Journey Control. As a writer it’s nice not to know all the answers, even when you’ve created the world you’re writing in!

Paul Starkey lives in Nottingham, England, but has no information regarding the whereabouts of Robin Hood. He’s wanted to be a writer since he was ten years old, but didn’t really start writing seriously until he hit his thirties. Since then he’s been making up for lost time. He’s had stories published in the UK, USA and Australia, including being published by Ticonderoga publications, Alchemy Press, Fox Spirit and the British Fantasy Society journal. In November 2015 his novella ‘The Lazarus Conundrum’ (a zombie story with a twist) was published by Abaddon Books. He’s also self-published several novels.

If you enjoyed the story you might also want to visit our Support Page, or read the other story offerings.

BOOK REVIEW: United States of Japan by Peter Tieryas

written by David Steffen

World War II is over, decisively ended when the Empire of Japan unleashes their new superweapon on the United States of America. Soon they USA is declared the United States of Japan, under the rule of the Emperor.

The story begins from the point of view of people held in an internment camp for Japanese-American citizens, who are immediately released upon the Japanese seizing control. 40 years later, the child of one of those, Beniko Ishimura, is working as a video game censor as the subversive video game United States of America starts gaining popularity. United States of America is an alternate history war game where the United States won World War II. Meanwhile, Akiko Tsukino of one of the secret police forces, is out to investigate the game herself. They cross paths and begin to uncover deeper secrets about the game and about the United States of Japan.

I like the alt-history aspect of the story, looking at different ways that Japanese government and culture might have grown from 1940s USA insted of the USA we have today. There were some technological elements both fun and dark, as well as exploring the colonial culture aspect where a colony’s culture becomes a mix of its own roots and of the occupying force. The plot as a whole is action-packed, and has lots of exciting events to keep the reader interested, as well as interesting philosophical themes.

What I found less engaging was the way the narrative interacted with Beniko, who is probably what you would call the main protagonist, though we get POV sections from Akiko as well. Big important details about him and what drives him are withheld until later in the story, to add some mystery for the reader I suppose. This is a writing technique that I tend to find distancing rather than engaging because when I’m reading I want to immerse in the POV as deeply as possible, I want to flow along the narrative like riding a river, and when there are all these blank areas where there clearly should be information, it interrupts that flow for me and I have trouble ever immersing. I’m not talking about revealing details about a person’s origin story, exactly, but more things that the person must be thinking about, and yet aren’t in the narrative. I read the whole book, but until the very very end I felt like Ben was a distant stranger, instead of feeling immersed in him, and since he is the main POV character, that was a major obstacle for me. I found myself constantly wondering “Now, why is he doing THAT? What are the actual stakes for him?” and feeling like I never had a satisfactory answer.

I found the character of Akiko much more engaging, despite her having some hair-trigger homicidal tendencies that are only encouraged by her work. Unlike Ben, I felt like I was fully engaged with her character because there was no withholding that served as an obstacle, and she had some real character growth from beginning to end of the book to follow along with.

Overall, I found the book a pretty easy ready, though I would have liked to be able to immerse more deeply in the Beniko character’s point of view.

Ray Bradbury Award Review 2016

written by David Steffen

The Ray Bradbury Award is given out every year with the Nebula Awards but is not a Nebula Award in itself. Like the Nebula Awards, the final ballot and the eventual winner are decided by votes from members of SFWA, the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (which despite the name has an international membership).

I like to use the award every year as a sampler of well-loved science fiction and fantasy movies from the previous year. I have been very happy with this tactic, and this year is no exception.

Not included in this list, because I don’t usually seek out individual episodes of TV shows that are nominated is the episode of WestWorld titled “The Bicameral Mind”.

1. Arrival, Directed by Denis Villeneuve, Screenplay by Eric Heisserer, 21 Laps Entertainment/FilmNation Entertainment/Lava Bear Films/Xenolinguistics

I reviewed this movie here on Diabolical Plots in December.

Arrival is a science fiction first contact story starring Amy Adams as Louise Banks, one of the linguists recruited by the US government to learn how to communicate with the aliens dwelling inside one of the twelve giant ships that have suddenly appeared all over the world–this one in Montana. Why are the aliens here? What do they want? The world trembles on the brink of war from the tension of not knowing, and it is up to Louise and her team to find out the truth.

This movie is tense and compelling with compelling characters and cool SFnal ideas based around the classic challenge of first contact. It is based on a story written by Ted Chiang, one of my favorite short fiction authors, and is well worth seeing.

2. Zootopia, Directed by Byron Howard, Rich Moore, & Jared Bush, Screenplay by Jared Bush & Phil Johnston; Walt Disney Pictures/Walt Disney Animation Studios

Zootopia is an animated buddy-cop movie that takes place in the city of Zootopia where predators and prey have learned to live peacefully side by side. Or is it so peacefully? Judy Hopps (Ginnifer Goodwin) has fulfilled her lifelong dream of becoming the first rabbit on the Zootopia police force, but no one respects her because rabbits have a reputation for being timid and stupid. She sets out to prove herself and she ends up being assigned to look into a case of a missing otter, one of twelve predators that has disappeared without a trace in recent days, and she has an ultimatum to resign if she doesn’t solve the case. She recruits fox con man Nick (Jason Bateman) to help her.

Zootopia is one of those children’s movies that works well for all ages. Looking past the childish elements, it is quite a good buddy-cop movie at its core with interesting puzzles to solve that are unique to the predator-prey-living-in-harmony situation. Highly recommended, fun and interesting with lots of celebrity voices.

3. Doctor Strange, Directed by Scott Derrickson, Screenplay by Scott Derrickson & C. Robert Cargill, Marvel Studios/Walt Disney Studio Motion Pictures

Steven Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch) is a world-renowned surgeon, the best of his profession. Arrogant and aloof, he wants nothing more than to immortalize his name forever in the field of medical science. After a violent car accident that damages his hands, he desperately seeks out any way to heal his broken hands–starting with every available experimental medical procedure and eventually moving on to the mystical healing arts. Following the trail from a man who had fully recovered from a paralyzing spinal injury, he finds Kamar-Taj, a temple of the mystic arts led by the Ancient One (Tilda Swinton). There he is mentored by the sorceror Mordo (Chiwetel Ejiofor) to begin his training. Strange takes to the training quickly, and soon needs every ounce of skill he has acquired to fight against Kaecilius (Mads Mikkelsen), a former sorceror of Kamar-Taj who left the temple after refusing to accept the limits on their studies placed by the Ancient One.

I was surprised at how much I liked this movie–it seemed like it was a character and story that would be hard to make it feel modern without it being corny but they pulled it off reasonably well. My favorite parts were the depictions of the Mirror World, a reflection of the real world that is infinitely malleable to manipulation, and is often used as dueling grounds for sorcerors since the destruction there does not touch the real world–they turn ordinary surroundings into treacherous fighting arenas filled with traps made of everyday things. Dr. Strange had a quite decent character arc throughout the story, so arrogant at the beginning and finally finding some humility as he fights on. I thought the method Strange used for the final boss was particularly clever, not one I expected.

4. Kubo and the Two Strings, Directed by Travis Knight, Screenplay by Mark Haimes & Chris Butler; Laika Entertainment

Kubo (Art Parkinson) is a young boy who makes his money begging in the town during the day while his mother suffers from a strange affliction where she is in a trance from sunrise to sunset, and she demands that he always keep his monkey charm near him and never go out at night for his own safety, so that his aunts and grandfather the Moon King will not come and steal Kubo’s one remaining eye. He tells stories of the warrior Hanzo, who is Kubo’s missing father, and plays out the performances with origami which he animates magically with a musical stringed instrument of his mother’s. One day he hears of a festival where the townspeople are once a year allowed to speak to the souls of their dead loved ones and Kubo breaks his mother’s rule in the hopes that he will be able to speak to his missing father. But he soon learns that his mother’s rule is not just fantasy, when his aunts do come and find him and he flees and is only saved at the last moment by his mother rushing to his rescue, magically sending him far far away. His monkey charm has come to life (Charlize Theron) and they set out to escape the Moon King’s pursuit and continue Hanzo’s quest to defeat the Moon King.

Action packed, fun, and more than a little scary in parts–this story has a lot of fun and a lot of emotional moments. The aunts in particular are super super creepy, especially when they first arrive as floating masked apparitions who always speak in unison in a creepy singsong voice. Each step of their journey is a major trial that Kubo’s father had failed before him, and the odds are against him but he has some of his powers inherited from his mother as well as the help of his animated monkey charm.

5. Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, Directed by Gareth Edwards, Written by Chris Weitz & Tony Gilroy; Lucusfilm/ Walt Disney Studio Motion Pictures

The newest in the Star Wars movies, albeit not one of the main numbered sequence. This story takes place just before Star Wars: New Hope (the original movie). Galen Orso (Mads Mikkelsen), former scientists for the Galactic Empire, has been living in seclusion for some time, but he is abducted and brought back to work on his grandest project yet–the weapon that will come to be known as the Death Star. When he is taken, his young daughter Jyn (Felicity Jones) escapes and is taken in by extremist rebel Saw Gerrera (Forrest Whitaker). Fifteen years later, the Death Star is nearly complete and Imperial pilot Bodhi Rook (Riz Ahmed) has defected from the Empire with plans for the weapons to give to the rebels, but the pilot falls into the hands of Gerrera, who is just as violent against other rebels as against the Empire. Jyn is captured and recruited to communicate with Gerrera to try to recover the plans.

It was exciting and fun to get to see this important piece of Star Wars lore that we only heard about the results of in passing. The main complaint I heard about the movie before it came out was that the cast was so large that you never really got to know anyone, and I think there’s some truth to that, although I did have a great deal of affection for the protagonist Jyn, and also for spiritual warrior Chirrut (Donnie Yen) and the mercenary Baze Malbus (Wen Jiang) who were weird and quirky. Unfortunately because of the nature of the movie, and the fact that none of these characters were in the original trilogy, you can probably guess how they end up, and you also know that they succeeded since that’s what made the ending of A New Hope possible. But it’s still a fun movie worth watching, even if the characters aren’t as well developed and the ending is already known.

DP Fiction #26A: “O Stone, Be Not So” by José Pablo Iriarte

We had no idea what to think the day Otto started living backward. We might have had a clue if we’d noticed he woke up all cranky and sleepy when he’d always been a morning person. It’s hard to spot subtle things like that, though, when your bright, happy ten-year-old wakes up unable to form a coherent sentence and unable to understand anything you say. I thought he was having a seizure, or had developed some god-awful disorder. I had Aidan call for an ambulance while I ran around the apartment like a madwoman: grabbing a change of clothes, our insurance cards, and a couple of Otto’s favorite toys.

The doctors could find no physical cause for his sudden incoherence and no indication his life was in danger, so they sent us to a local neurologist. I’m the one who actually figured out what was going on, though. Or really Otto did, but I helped him express it.

He listened to the doctor’s questions, his eyes wide and flipping back and forth between Aidan and me, his head shaking with incomprehension, his answers incoherent. As at the emergency room, his answers were all gibberish. I suspected he’d suffered an injury to the part of the brain responsible for speech, but might be otherwise able to communicate—he seemed too alert, too aware of what was going on. So I pulled a pen and an old receipt from my handbag. He grabbed the pen with no sign of any particular cognitive difficulty, positioned the tip against the paper, and pressed down fruitlessly. His father went and found a pencil, but somehow it wouldn’t write either. The point was freshly sharpened and I wrote with no difficulty, but in Otto’s hand, nothing.

Giving up, I reached for the pencil, but before I took it he flipped it over and started erasing a blank area of the sheet. The skin up and down my back and neck tingled as letters began to appear: first what looked like an ‘i’ on the right side of the page, drawn upside-down for my benefit, since I was kneeling across from him. Then he erased some more and I realized it was an exclamation point, followed by a ‘D,’ and then another letter and another, until he had un-erased the message, “I’M BACKWARD!”

He met my eyes and then, seeing that I’d read the message, proceeded to trace over it from right to left. As the tip of the pencil touched each letter, it disappeared.

We got better at communicating as we learned to deal with this thing, but whenever we reached an impasse, out came the pencil and notepad–and a pack of fresh erasers.

Some things don’t change a great deal when your boy is living backward. Hugs are still pretty much the same. Kisses feel a little funny, but they still work.

We only went to a couple appointments with the neurologist before we figured she didn’t know any more than we did. We didn’t want to end up like those families in bad sci-fi movies, having our boy taken away to be experimented on and never seeing him again, so we stopped going to her office.

School was out of the question, so we tried homeschooling. I had to quit my job, but we tightened our belts and made do.

We had our challenges, of course. I won’t pretend otherwise. Mealtime was pretty gross. And it was unsettling having your kid get cleaner and cleaner throughout the day, right up until bath time, after which he came out dirty and sweaty.

Basically what I’m saying is we tried to make our peace with this. Something crazy happens in your life, like you lose a limb or your hearing starts to go, you learn to accommodate, to live around it. This didn’t change how much we loved our beautiful boy. We still played, even if our play was filled with constant little moments of weird.

But then during our homeschooling sessions, I started to realize he was losing skills, facts–his reasoning itself became more basic before my eyes. His father and I would think back and say, “Oh yeah, that’s about how old he was when he learned long division,” or we’d remember how old he was when he . . . when he . . . I’m sorry. How old he was when he learned to read.

That’s when we grasped where this was headed.

Do you realize that when he cries, the tears roll up his face and get sucked into his eyes, like some kind of poison? I dab at them to no effect; it’s like I’m squeezing the moisture onto his face myself.

In the end, fear forward and fear backward are more or less indistinguishable.

His father couldn’t handle the inevitable. “Let’s let the scientists have him,” he said. “They might be able to figure something out.”

“Absolutely not,” I replied. “Of course they can’t ‘figure something out.’ Have you ever heard of anything like this? All they will do is take away what little time we have left.”

When he couldn’t convince me, he tried another tack. “Nadia, we can’t take care of him,” he said. “We should find a facility to deal with him, so we can have our lives back.”

He wanted his life back, so I let him have it. I didn’t want my life back. Still don’t. I want every moment with my boy that I can get.

Going out with Otto is easier now. Nobody points or asks if he is retarded. If you don’t get too close, babies act about the same forward as they do in reverse.

I’m not sure what’s going to . . . how this will work . . . at the end. I don’t expect miracles. I don’t count on having more than a few more months with him.

I try to look on the bright side, because what else can I do? I’m not the first mother to lose a child, but other parents don’t know when the end is coming. Perhaps they spend years regretting a harsh word or a moment of inattentiveness on that fateful last day. Or they spend their last few months watching a beloved child suffer in anguish. I don’t think Otto can even remember being a big boy anymore. He doesn’t seem to be suffering.

“It’s okay,” I say as I wiggle him playfully on my lap. “Mommy has her sweet baby boy back. Isn’t that right, Otto?”

He smiles toothlessly and reaches up a hand toward my face, babbling.

He said his last word three months ago.

It was “Mom.”

Author’s Note: This story was originally written for a short fiction contest for the Codex Writers Group. The prompt was to write about two people who could no longer communicate through the means that had previously worked for them. I seized upon the idea of somebody suddenly switched into living backward, and had fun playing with the notion of symmetry in life and in language. Before long, though, I started to be intrigued by the other ramifications of having a child who was living backward, and by the parallels between this concept and having a child with a terminal illness.

José Iriarte is a Cuban-American writer and high school math teacher living in EPCOT with his wife Lisa and their two teenage kids. His fiction has appeared in Strange Horizons, Fireside Fiction, Daily Science Fiction, and other venues. Learn more at his website: http://www.labyrinthrat.com.

If you enjoyed the story you might also want to visit our Support Page, or read the other story offerings.