My favorite stories from September and October featured aliens, impossibilities, migration, and death, in varying combinations. “Everyone Hates the Auditor” by Megan Chee (published in Lightspeed Magazine Issue 185) is a comedy of commerce, centered around bizarre and fantastic alien artifacts. “Last Meal Aboard the Awassa” by Kel Coleman (published in Lightspeed Magazine Issue 184) is a sad, beautiful story about scientists aboard a doomed spaceship. “Brooklyn Beijing” by Hannah Yang (published in Uncanny Magazine Issue 66) is an excellent piece of flash fiction in which Beijing appears in New York City. Lastly, “Five Impossible Things” by Koji A. Dae (published in Clarkesworld Magazine Issue 228) is a wonderfully complicated story about a dying woman choosing a virtual reality world. Let’s dive in.
“Everyone Hates the Auditor” by Megan Chee
It’s time for a routine stock-take audit at Galactic Curiosities Inc. The Manager oversees a “motley collection of bizarre alien artifacts from across the known universe,” and the Auditor has come to the space station to inspect the inventory and make sure everything is properly accounted for. Conflict results from the fact that the written inventory does not precisely match what’s actually present on station.
This is a playful, approachable story. The language is grounded and straightforward, and the premise is clearly and quickly introduced. The characters are colorfully painted and enjoyably diverse, and it’s fun to see them silently judge each other, butt heads, and argue. The artifacts themselves are imaginative and fantastic. (There’s an interdimensional portal, for example.) I looked forward to seeing each one, and I’d honestly welcome more stories set on this station spotlighting more of the artifacts.
Both the Manager and the Auditor are morally questionable characters. I usually prefer characters who are more clearly committed to virtue, but I’d classify this story as a comedy, lampooning the Manager and Auditor, and in that context, I liked these characters more than I thought I would. They are both unfortunately and inextricably intertwined in a system of commerce and capital that’s much more powerful than they are, a system that has shaped them and limited their options in more ways than they would like. For example:
The Auditor […] has recently undergone a simple surgical procedure to dampen his emotions and focus all spare mental capacity on his tasks. […] Without it, he is prone to explosions of temper, crying to his boss that he “wants to spend more time with his family and friends,” and an irrational desire to quit his job.
Through passages such as that, the story both makes fun of these characters and also asks readers to foster some empathy for them. It leads to an enjoyable and satisfying climax, one which places these characters in an unusually stressful situation and forces them to look beyond their usual perspectives.
I recommend this story to folks who love creative and silly genre tales as well as anyone who appreciates comedies of business and capitalism.
“Last Meal Aboard the Awassa” by Kel Coleman
Gardener Ketri works on a long-haul science spaceship, loves her job, and believes in her work. Unfortunately, it is dangerous work, and her entire ship will soon be destroyed. There’s not much left for the crew to do besides call their loved ones and eat one last meal. For what it’s worth, Ketri’s partner is Cook Nailo, who is prepared to cook up one hell of a last meal.
This is one of those science fiction stories that is delightfully alien, and I love it for that. For example, here’s the first line in the story: “Gardener ladled dark-purple porridge into her primary digestion sac”. I didn’t notice a single human in this story, and much of the food felt relatively alien as well. If you’re someone who enjoys science fiction that de-centers the human experience, this story is for you.
This story is delightfully alien. It is also deeply human and tragic. The crew is facing a mortal threat, and there isn’t much they can do about it. What they can do is cherish their loved ones aboard, call their loved ones off ship, come together for a family-style meal, pray, drink, and party. It is a beautiful and recognizably human response to a scary event beyond their control. It’s sad, but in a feel-good sort of way. These are good people going out on good terms. If you’re someone who appreciates a good sad story, this is for you.
“Brooklyn Beijing” by Hannah Yang
For whatever reason, Beijing has appeared in New York, effectively replacing Brooklyn and Queens.
I adore how Yang quickly but vividly sketches out the two cities. On one side of the river, we have “delis and pizzerias and taquerias, queer couples holding hands in public” and on the other we have “noodles and dumplings and jianbing and youtiao, students hurrying home arm-in-arm in tracksuit school uniforms, tiny side alleys leading to crumbling old hutongs”. I also love how Yang depicts how people in both cities react, especially online through chat groups and social media. It is believable and playful, and this story holds so much affection for both cities, both cultures.
But this piece of flash fiction quickly shifts from its fanciful conceit to something with more substance. “You” came from Beijing to New York for college and haven’t been able to return for years now. When Beijing appears across the river, you are gripped by the exciting and immediate possibility of finally visiting home, but even though it is physically easy now, the US government is already trying to enforce the border. It makes for a memorable piece of flash fiction about migration, international relations, and family relationships.
“Five Impossible Things” by Koji A. Dae
Alice Clark is dying. Her insurance company won’t pay for more treatment, but they will pay for Vtora Sviat, a virtual reality world where she can comfortably live out the remainder of her life, free from the discomfort and pain that plague her. However, in order to “get citizenship” in Vtora Sviat, she needs to accept it as real in her mind. The story transitions between Alice in Vtora Sviat, trying to get citizenship but continually noticing impossible things, and Alice in the real world, speaking with her husband and her doctor.
I’m not entirely sure what to make of “Five Impossible Things,” and that might be my favorite thing about this story. I’m usually firmly in the “screw VR, appreciate IRL” camp, so I enjoyed watching Alice spot the impossible things in Vtora Sviat and question whether it’s something she even wants. And yet, as Alice spends more time there, she not only escapes her failing body, she has new experiences and begins to change and perhaps grow in ways she wouldn’t otherwise. I see how her choice to leave behind the real world and go to Vtora Sviat can make sense — can be a good, even a beautiful, thing.
The hardest part is that Alice has a husband and kids in the real world, and for whatever reason, they can’t visit her in Vtora Sviat. Choosing Vtora Sviat means leaving them behind and allowing herself to forget them.
Meanwhile, “Impossible thing number 3: I’m attracted to women.” Alice begins to fall in love with a woman in Vtora Sviat. With the excitement of new love, reinventing herself in Vtora Sviat becomes more enticing. I hate to see Alice leave behind her family, but I love the imagery of Alice, near the end of her life, going on a new adventure, opening herself to change, and letting herself grow into someone new in a new place.
I almost want to describe this story as “bittersweet” but that word isn’t strong enough for this. I found this story to be a very bitter pill to swallow, so to speak, but after that, I also found it to be surprisingly heartening. Perhaps this story won’t feel as complicated to you, but if it does, I suspect it will be a savory sort of complicated.
