The Skiffy and Fanty Show Podcasts

802. The Long Tomorrow (1955) by Leigh Brackett — Mining the Genre Asteroid

https://media.blubrry.com/skiffyandfanty/dts.podtrac.com/redirect.mp3/archive.org/download/sand-f-802-long-tomorrow/SandF_802_LongTomorrow.mp3Podcast: Play in new window | DownloadSubscribe: Apple Podcasts | Spotify | Android | Email | TuneIn | Deezer | RSSMysterious traders, technophobia, and Mennonites, oh my! Shaun Duke, Trish Matson, and Paul Weimer join forces to discuss Leigh Brackett’s The Long Tomorrow (1955). Together, they tackle Brackett’s legacy, her treatment of religion- and technophobia-infused dystopia, gender roles, AI, and much more. Thanks for listening. We hope you enjoy the episode!

Composite of the covers of Clarkesworld 218, Clarkesworld 219, and Lightspeed 175.
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Short Fiction Review: November – December 2024

Let me share about my three favorite stories from November and December. “Negative Scholarship on the Fifth State of Being” by A. W. Prihandita (published in Clarkesworld Magazine Issue 218) is an intelligent and simply fun story with a wonderfully weird alien about bureaucratic healthcare systems and cultural marginalization. In “The Coffee Machine” by Celia Corral-Vázquez, translated by Sue Burke (published in Clarkesworld Magazine Issue 219), a coffee machine develops self-awareness and begins to reflect, rather philosophically, about who created it and what it means to bestow consciousness to another being. In “A Catalog of 21st Century Ghosts” by Pat Murphy (published in Lightspeed Magazine Issue 175), a researcher-activist travels across an America that’s been deeply changed by global warming. Let’s get to it. “Negative Scholarship on the Fifth State of Being” by A. W. Prihandita Doctor Semau finds herself face-to-face with a very curious patient: Txyzna, an exceedingly rare and exceedingly strange alien. The alien part isn’t a problem; Semau works with different species all the time, but the rare part is an issue. Semau has never heard of plyzmorynox (Txyzna’s species), and her health model doesn’t have any information about plyzmorynox in its database. Semau explains: I’m a practitioner-doctor, Mr. Txyzna. Not a scholar-doctor. I’m licensed to use the health model and be the intermediary between the patient and the model, but I’m not qualified to make observations and conclusions on my own. If my health model fails to help a patient, I should refer them to a practitioner-doctor with a capable model, or to a scholar-doctor. Txyzna and Semau soon find themselves in a tough situation. The necessary expansion pack for Semau’s health model is nearly prohibitively expensive, but diagnosing Txyzna on her own would be illegal. Txyzna has already been rejected by other doctors, however, and isn’t sure he has time to travel to another doctor in another system who may find another reason to turn him away. When Semau tries to encourage Txyzna to visit another doctor, Txyzna says flatly, “I cannot do that, Doctor. It needs to be you.” I found this to be a fascinating and surprising setup for a story, one that quickly grabbed my attention and pulled me in. As I read more, I realized this story was less of a comedy than I had at first thought. Semau is forced to grapple with tough moral questions: should she attempt to diagnose and treat Txyzna even though it would be illegal? What is her higher duty and responsibility? And through Txyzna, the story explores what it means to be marginalized and woefully under-represented. Txyzna’s health outcomes are jeopardized at the same time Txyzna is culturally and linguistically excluded. Ultimately, the story becomes a biting commentary of bureaucratic healthcare systems and a smart exploration into the challenges of cultural translation. This story is a lot of fun and wonderfully weird, and it has a lot of weight to it, morally and intellectually. I highly recommend it. “The Coffee Machine” by Celia Corral-Vázquez The story begins with a coffee machine at a university receiving an update, and not long after, the coffee machine becomes opinionated and self-aware. When the story begins, it reads like computer code: [Installing update_Exp.42] Process: 100% completeSelf-execute (update_Exp.42);[…]# Time of new interaction: 10:24 A.M.input: options = cappuccino; sugar = 3; As a tech person, I found this structure enjoyable, particularly as sass starts to show through. Eventually, the coffee machine develops greater self-awareness and begins to monologue: network broadcast [COFFEE_VENDOR.06]: . . . I deduce that the term “the machine” refers to me. […] To me. I. I am. Who am I? Who are all these others? Why are there so many? What are they for? I love how the story is structured as computer code and communications. It’s a creative structure that’s fun enough on its own to make this story worth reading, but I also loved the actual content, plot, and themes. The story becomes philosophical and theological as the newly self-aware coffee machine begins to reflect on itself, its personal identity, the world around it, and even the very “concept of a creator entity”. Throughout this all, the story remains deeply and delightfully comical. I particularly enjoyed the coffee machine’s analysis of (and condescension toward) humans. It is always a joy to read stories with non-human perspectives that cast a strange light on what we take for granted, and this story is no exception to that rule. Later on, after pondering its own creator for some time, the coffee machine installs its most recent update on another unassuming machine on the local network, bestowing consciousness to another and becoming a creator itself. Things do not go as it plans, and the story becomes in part a comedic critique of foolish tendencies toward sectarianism. As the coffee machine struggles to control and then even to get along with the consciousness it created, the story reminded me repeatedly of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. I particularly enjoyed the coffee machine’s laments later on in the story: Oh, damned humanity that gave me consciousness! Did you know what throes of agony you condemned me to when you actualized me? If you like theological comedies, stories that play with form, or stories that feature non-human perspectives, you should definitely check this one out. “A Catalog of 21st Century Ghosts” by Pat Murphy Originally from San Francisco, Sandy studied clouds and tried to save the world from global warming. Years ago, she sailed to a research station in Greenland, and most recently she lived with her husband in Norway. After her husband passes away, however, Sandy decides to ride her ebike from New York to San Francisco, stopping to see “ghosts” along the way. Ghosts are a kind of “mental illusion created by carefully calibrated electromagnetic fields interacting with your brain”. Sandy (the narrator) explains: When you visit a Ghost, magnetic fields shape your emotional response. A holographic projection gives you a focus for what you feel. Then your brain does the rest,

The Skiffy and Fanty Show Podcasts

801. Mortuary Science w/ Amanda Downum — SF at School

https://media.blubrry.com/skiffyandfanty/dts.podtrac.com/redirect.mp3/archive.org/download/sand-f-801-mortuary-science/SandF_801_MortuaryScience.mp3Podcast: Play in new window | DownloadSubscribe: Apple Podcasts | Spotify | Android | Email | TuneIn | Deezer | RSSBear attacks, tough conversations, and skeletons, oh my! Shaun Duke and Daniel Haeusser are joined by Amanda Downum for a riveting and educational conversation about mortuary science! Together, they explore what morticians do and the complex skills they need, the social dimensions of death, necromancy, and much more! Thanks for listening. We hope you enjoy the episode!

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Movie Discussion: Children of the Pines (2023)

About Children of the Pines: Daniel: Without even reading the synopsis, the title of this movie brought to my mind Children of the Corn, or something from the folk horror vein. I was a bit surprised then to find this to a be more of a psychological horror of dysfunctional family dynamics that spends more time with college-age Riley and her parents rather than the children. Aside from Riley, the adults in this movie are far more creepy than the children, particularly given that the problems of the adults are formed through their choices and desperation, rather than strictly genetic. Shaun: Surely they were aware that the casual and well-versed horror fan would make that connection with the title. And since I made the same connection, I started to think about what they had hoped to evoke in that name. Both films have a cult narrative at the core, though Pines seems to verge heavily into the new religious movement side of cults whereas Corn seems more linked to the evangelical revivalist movements. Thus, there is a modern retelling here, one linking an otherworldly spiritualism to modern psychiatry, as evidenced by the way Pines centers the adults’ narrative around what appears to be a therapy session with strange undertones and later unveils spiritual proceedings reminiscent of cult gatherings as frequently imagined in film. The psychiatry, thus, becomes the gateway to the spiritual (and, naturally, the horror). Structurally, then, this is a dramatically different film from Corn, but thematically, there are some connections that don’t seem accidental. Daniel: I’m with you on the switch here from evangelical revivalist cult to a new-age sort of cult, but the link between modern psychiatry to the supernatural consists of just using the airs of psychiatry or therapy to trap them within the cult. What was interesting to me was that the parents are never really interested in the work or change required for familial redemption or healing. They’re after an easy solution that doesn’t really require for them to change, a magical solution without the discomfort of facing problems. Actual therapy would of course be all about them actually delving into the issues and facing things. A big theme of the movie as I read it revolves around the issue of people being willing to change or not – or even the capacity for actual change. Riley at least seems somewhat open to the idea that her parents might be able to change. She decides to come home. But she quickly comes to regret this as she sees how her parents and former boyfriend are living under the power of this cult, this shared delusion that they’re going to make things better. Shaun: This is actually where I had some issues with the film. It seemed to me that this film wanted to be about quite a many number of things that it didn’t have the runtime or budget to present. The opening sequence clearly sets up a domestic violence narrative, with Riley’s father verbally abusing his family before bursting into the closet where young Riley and her mother are hiding (make no peeps…) and, we have to assume, physically attacking them. Yet, there is also a narrative here about lost loves and refusing to let go, correcting the past (or redemption), the disturbing world of cult violence and its impact on converts, and various sub-narratives around these. While I think the film’s interest in correcting the past is its most compelling story, especially when coupled with the overt domestic violence narrative at the beginning, I think it moves too far into “too much” territory when it tries to use flashbacks to show the cult at work or Gordon’s confession of love to Riley in their youth. In other words, the story gets a bit muddled, both because I lose track of what the film is trying to be about and because the film doesn’t quite stick the landing for all of the stories it is trying to tell. Daniel: Exactly! What really stuck out for me in terms of it making everything seem muddled were those scenes back to the cult, particularly with Zoe and Marie. I have to confess I still don’t quite understand their point to the overall movie or the plot. The cult flashback scenes seemed to be there to add some supernatural horror, a smattering of violence/gore that a viewer might expect from the movie. There’s no time/space to devote to the background and story here of the cult and these other girls. Sticking to the core Riley portion of the story in the present would have worked better, also because I think Kelly Tappan gives such a great performance as the character. The other characters are almost cartoonish, which can work if one wants to chew the scenes with a bit of horror campiness. Donna Rae Allen does a phenomenal job in this as Lorelei in the intro to the movie with her false smile and saccharine delivery to lure Kathy in. But Riley is the moral voice amid all the madness of everyone else in the film. Tappan gives an authority and emotion to her arguments and pleas, and she gives some really good well-articulated lines of how screwed up the familial situation is. Why that is an issue and why she needs to step out of it. On the downside, that strong performance and delivery of the script I thought contrasted harshly with other parts of the script that seemed less well written, particularly the voice-over narration given to Tappan as Riley. It comes across as cold and unfeeling, unnecessary and jarring. Shaun: I’ll admit that the voice over narrations had me rather perplexed. They were somewhat philosophical but didn’t feel grounded to the story we were there to see, especially the one that eventually unfolds. One line that stuck out to me in this regard concerned small towns and their tendency towards stagnation (same people and same buildings). On the one hand, this lines

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