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Okay, so just finished Accelerando by Charles Stross, however I have read a lot of charlie in the last two years, and I want a rest for a while. However, it was a great book. I have also been checking out eclipse phase a lot lately.
The net result of these combined facts...
I want some suggestions for good transhumanist science fiction. As a result putting out this simple query to the mechanical turk that is the Paizo forum.
"Where would you suggest I go next in my reading?"
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Seconding Iain Banks. Peter Hamilton's Night's Dawn trilogy also has some interesting concepts and is a page-turner, besides being staggeringly ambitious. It doesn't always succeed in grasping as high as it reaches, but I think that's forgivable given that even in falling short, it hits pretty high. :-)
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Given the definition of transhumanist - a story about a little girl who gets bracers because the kids bully her about crooked teeth would qualify...
In the end Trans-humanist scifi is an advertisement about the health benefits of Cigarettes with a disclaimer that people were enslaved to grow the tobacco.
+1 for Banks, Reynolds (and House of Suns, Terminal World)
Baxter and Hamilton partially
Dan Simmons - Hyperion, Endymion
Peter Watts - Blindsight
Hannu Rajaniemi - The Quantum Thief, Fractal Prince
Christopher Hinz - Liege-Killer
John C. Wright - The Golden Age
Hannu Rajaniemi is already on my list. :D
+1 Simmons, Watts, and Reynolds
Haven't read Ian Banks, although he is on the list.
I liked Hamilton's Night Dawn Trilogy...although the ending...was pretty damn bad IMHO
Also while I love Alastair Reynolds, I would recommend taking breaks from him. I tend to find he relies a bit to heavily on a certain set of plot twists which can feel cliched after reading through too many of his novels at once.
Also we get it Yellowdingo...you don't like Transhumanism or at least the way it is written.
Hee hee!
I have no idea what you guys are talking about, but I love the passion!
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+1 Simmons, Watts, and Reynolds
Haven't read Ian Banks, although he is on the list.
I liked Hamilton's Night Dawn Trilogy...although the ending...was pretty damn bad IMHO
Also while I love Alastair Reynolds, I would recommend taking breaks from him. I tend to find he relies a bit to heavily on a certain set of plot twists which can feel cliched after reading through too many of his novels at once.
Also we get it Yellowdingo...you don't like Transhumanism or at least the way it is written.
No Seriously, I just got the Love...come and write an 800 word trans-humanist scifi for a collaborative.
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THE LENS CYCLE: PETER
It was the School bell and the students poured out into the playground. Parents would begin showing up to retrieve children. For Peter it would be a long wait. He loitered near the benches where he sat against the wall during lunch and noticed the piece of circular glass.
Peter looked through the glass eye. The Playground filled with the cries the other children around him was empty through the lens. Empty and still. It left Peter with a feeling of confusion. The girls sitting near him giggled and whispered to one another causing him to blush. Marie, Vanessa, Claire - The Triumvirate. Peter furrowed his eyebrows in consternation and returned to the lens eye. It still wasn't working right. In all directions the playground was empty. He bit his lip out of sheer distress in that habitual way that usually earned him the very vocal concerns of his mother when it happened at home. He was fairly certain there should be people on the other side of the lens of glass.
It should be just like the glass in any old magnifying glass. – You should be able to see the others. Peter again looked over the playground through the lens – it was there but the other children were not. Peter held the lens away from his eye and looked at the other children. They seemed real yet they were not. Peter reached out and touched a shoulder of one of them who had come within reach – pulling the lens up against his eye to look the individual over.
Gone again - The Victim of his tactile experiment pulled away and Peter lowered the empty looking glass from his eye. Now he turned the lens in his hand until he noticed the spot of light on the ground. That was just like a magnifying glass. They all did that, so what was wrong with this one? An ant caught his attention. There through the lens was a dead ant. On the ground in the real world an ant had somehow become the victim of the light from the lens and it curled and died. The ant through the lens was dead and the Ant on this side was just dead. The other side of the lens was the future?
Peter leaped to his feet and looked closely at the school buildings through the lens. They were closed. No students in seats.
No teachers. OK so maybe it wasn't a school day. The Sun through the lens was pretty much the same time of day as now. Was it a weekend? But why were there no cars in the street? He needed to do something he could see through the lens.
Chalk. Peter turned to the girls.
I need some chalk. Vanessa was forthcoming and seemed gratified at his simple thank you. The other girls seemed disappointed they had lacked chalk. Peter stepped onto the seat, chalked a single brick, and looked through the lens. The Brick that had been bare before was now with a fine chalk coating.
The chalked brick went wherever there is. Peter sat and returned the remains of the chalked brick to Vanessa with another ‘thanks’. She smiled awkwardly and fled with her two friends. The ant was dead after it died and the brick was coated in chalk after it was ‘chalked’.
If through the lens was the future – it wasn't the future as it was here – it was the future where things had changed. Still it didn't explain things. He didn't know the words for it. Knowing the Answer was important. He needed to see. Peter ran to the window of the class room that he seemed to spend his life in. The Calender would tell him. Today was Friday. An eleven marked the day. The Lens showed the same day. It would change on Monday. The Teacher always updated the calendar on Monday. It was still Friday on the Calender.
Peter looked at the perimeter fence and the cars of parents beyond it. His father drove the car to the designated pickup point – the other cars behind and ahead of him and bumped the horn.
Peter sat the Lens down on the bench and walked toward the perimeter gate. It was time to go home and it didn't seem right to leave grounds with the Lens. Peter looked back at the School and the chalk-painted brick, thinking of the lens he was leaving behind. Vanessa smiled at Peter as he exited the playground to the waiting car of his Father. Her companions Marie and Claire smiled and the trio giggled. Peter shook his head and looked at them out of the corner of his eye. They were defiantly up to something. Maybe they were terrorists.
Tomorrow was Saturday. Everything would be different tomorrow.
Source: http://yellowdingosappendix.blogspot.com.au/search/label/Trans-humanist%20S ci-fi%20Collaborative
Alright, that's it, I'm looking up "Transhumanist Science Fiction" or whatever it is.
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I'm not exactly sure what makes YD's tale transhuman science fiction and not an homage to Ray Bradbury's style.
Lets see 800 words out of you...
Damn it! Word error in the tale. ...remains of the chalk... (not ...remains of the chalk brick...)
The Lens Cycle: Peter
It was the School bell and the students poured out into the playground. Parents would begin showing up to retrieve children. For Peter it would be a long wait. He loitered near the benches where he sat against the wall during lunch and noticed the piece of circular glass.
Peter looked through the glass eye. The Playground filled with the cries the other children around him was empty through the lens. Empty and still. It left Peter with a feeling of confusion. The girls sitting near him giggled and whispered to one another causing him to blush. Marie, Vanessa, Claire - The Triumvirate. Peter furrowed his eyebrows in consternation and returned to the lens eye. It still wasn't working right. In all directions the playground was empty. He bit his lip out of sheer distress in that habitual way that usually earned him the very vocal concerns of his mother when it happened at home. He was fairly certain there should be people on the other side of the lens of glass.
It should be just like the glass in any old magnifying glass. – You should be able to see the others. Peter again looked over the playground through the lens – it was there but the other children were not. Peter held the lens away from his eye and looked at the other children. They seemed real yet they were not. Peter reached out and touched a shoulder of one of them who had come within reach – pulling the lens up against his eye to look the individual over.
Gone again - The Victim of his tactile experiment pulled away and Peter lowered the empty looking glass from his eye. Now he turned the lens in his hand until he noticed the spot of light on the ground. That was just like a magnifying glass. They all did that, so what was wrong with this one? An ant caught his attention. There through the lens was a dead ant. On the ground in the real world an ant had somehow become the victim of the light from the lens and it curled and died. The ant through the lens was dead and the Ant on this side was just dead. The other side of the lens was the future?
Peter leaped to his feet and looked closely at the school buildings through the lens. They were closed. No students in seats.
No teachers. OK so maybe it wasn't a school day. The Sun through the lens was pretty much the same time of day as now. Was it a weekend? But why were there no cars in the street? He needed to do something he could see through the lens.
Chalk. Peter turned to the girls.
“I need some chalk.” Vanessa was forthcoming and seemed gratified at his simple thank you. The other girls seemed disappointed they had lacked chalk. Peter stepped onto the seat, chalked a single brick, and looked through the lens. The Brick that had been bare before was now with a fine chalk coating.
The chalked brick went wherever there is. Peter sat and returned the remains of the chalk to Vanessa with another ‘thanks’. She smiled awkwardly and fled with her two friends. The ant was dead after it died and the brick was coated in chalk after it was ‘chalked’.
If through the lens was the future – it wasn't the future as it was here – it was the future where things had changed. Still it didn't explain things. He didn't know the words for it. Knowing the Answer was important. He needed to see. Peter ran to the window of the class room that he seemed to spend his life in. The Calender would tell him. Today was Friday. An eleven marked the day. The Lens showed the same day. It would change on Monday. The Teacher always updated the calendar on Monday. It was still Friday on the Calender.
Peter looked at the perimeter fence and the cars of parents beyond it. His father drove the car to the designated pickup point – the other cars behind and ahead of him and bumped the horn.
Peter sat the Lens down on the bench and walked toward the perimeter gate. It was time to go home and it didn't seem right to leave the school grounds with the Lens. Peter looked back at the School and the chalk-painted brick, thinking of the lens he was leaving behind. Vanessa smiled at Peter as he exited the playground to the waiting car of his Father. Her companions Marie and Claire smiled and the trio giggled. Peter shook his head and looked at them out of the corner of his eye. They were defiantly up to something. Maybe they were terrorists.
Tomorrow was Saturday. Everything would be different tomorrow.
-(801 words not including title)
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Comming Soon!
The Lens Cycle: Claire
Claire stood with Vanessa and Marie and waited for their ride home. Today it was Vanessa’s Mother. Her SUV came with TV and headphones. As the SUV appeared Vanessa and Marie walked to the gate while Claire ran back to the Seats by the wall and its ‘chalked’ brick. The Lens was still there and she quickly snatched it up and ran for the gate in the Perimeter fence.
“Afternoon Girls,” Mrs Harney was going to ask them about their day.
“Any Homework?” Claire desperately wanted the answer to that to be a NO.
“Yes,” Vanessa Blabbed.
“Math” said the three of them like a surround sound speaker system at the center of which was Mrs Harney. Their reward was the Television and both Marie and Vanessa pulled on the headphones. The Lens was in Claire’s Pocket. Claire immediately searched her pocket for it and emerged with her prize. The Piece of glass seemed unscathed at the hands of Peter. Still it drew Claire’s interest away from the television screen and out the window. The Street was empty through the lens.
That wasn't right. Claire lowered the lens and the street filled with people instantly.
Bruce Sterling - Schismatrix, Holy Fire
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CLAIRE
Claire stood with Vanessa and Marie and waited for their ride home. Today it was Vanessa’s Mother. Her SUV came with TV and headphones. As the SUV appeared Vanessa and Marie walked to the gate while Claire ran back to the Seats by the wall and its ‘chalked’ brick. The Lens was still there and she quickly snatched it up and ran for the gate in the Perimeter fence.
“Afternoon Girls,” Mrs Harney was going to ask them about their day.
“Is there any Homework?” Claire desperately wanted the answer to that to be a NO.
“Yes,” Vanessa Blabbed.
“Math” said the three of them like a surround sound speaker system at the center of which was Mrs Harney. Their reward was the Television and both Marie and Vanessa pulled on the headphones. The Lens was in Claire’s Pocket. Claire immediately searched her pocket for it and emerged with her prize. The Piece of glass seemed unscathed at the hands of Peter. Still it drew Claire’s interest away from the television screen and out the window. The Street was empty through the lens.
That wasn't right. Claire lowered the lens and the street filled with people instantly.
Claire returned the lens to her eye and looked at the screen. To her astonishment the DVD they were watching was replaced with Television and right now it was scrolling a set of seven numbers across the bottom: Six – Twenty-three – Five – Eleven – Forty – Thirty – Thirty-three. Claire pocketed the lens and began a search of her bag for a pencil which she immediately used to scribe the numbers down on a corner of a page in her schoolbook. Once Claire was done she returned to watching the DVD.
The SUV made an unexpected detour into the car-park of a convenience store. Mrs Harney opened her door and grabbed at her purse.
“OK girls, stay put, I just have to put my Lotto in.” Claire pulled the page from her school book and pressed the numbers in Mrs Harney’s face.
“Can you do these for us Mrs Harney?” Claire looked sincere. Mrs Harney gave in with a shake of her head.
“We’re going to win.” Mrs Harney mouthed the letters OK and looked the collection of numbers over.
“Remember girls if you win it goes in the bank until you are old.” She looked at the syndicate of gamblers occupying the back seat.
“Yes Mrs Harney”, Claire agreed while Vanessa and Marie seemed confused by what was transpiring.
Vanessa pulled her headphones off. Claire smiled as Vanessa’s mom walked off toward the store.
“Your mom is getting us some lotto.” Vanessa returned to her headphones and seemed depressed she had missed a vital piece of the intricate social interplay of characters in her favorite anime.
Vanessa’s mother returned to the vehicle with three drinks and a purse stuffed with six tickets. She separated one from the group and put it into the glove compartment of the SUV folded neatly in a page from a school book.
“I did not just get a lotto ticket for three children.” Mrs Harney was adamant though the idea that Vanessa’s Mother was somehow enabling three minors in their gambling addiction didn't seem to register in the ethical strata of the SUV’s back seat. The Vehicle started and they quickly left the car park and headed for Marie’s home – it was first on this run.
The SUV turned left and there it was. They had gone the wrong way. Claire watched now as the large truck that had decided to use one of the exits as an entry tore through the front of the SUV and the vehicle, as solid and well made as it was disintegrated into nothing. Airbags exploded in the front with little thought to the occupants in the back seats. Claire hit her head and descended into unconsciousness.
Claire awoke in the hospital bed surrounded by her parents. She couldn't remember much of what had happened but she did remember who her parents were. She didn't talk immediately. The tubes stuck up her nose irritated her.
“Ah! Leave those alone sweetie.” Claire let go of the tubes and felt worried. Her mother attacked her with an overbearing embrace but her Father seemed to understand the despair.
“All right Kate, leave the girl alone,” He kissed her forehead and nodded reassuringly.
“Your friends are fine and Mrs Hanley will be forgiven.” The Television behind her father’s head indicated it was Saturday. The Lotto was being drawn: Six – Twenty-three – Five – Eleven – Forty – Thirty – Thirty-three. The numbers tumbled down into their positioned and the minor celebrity declared that some lucky individuals had just won a hundred million dollars. Claire smiled.
“What is it Sweetie?” Her father turned to look at the screen.
“We win.” Claire was sure of her success.
“What do you mean Claire?” Her father wanted to know if the bag on his daughter’s head had dislodged something important. The Doctor, loitering in the background now shone a light into her eyes as though he could see her inner workings before pulling away and looking at the whole Claire from a distance.
“There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with her.” Claire nodded in agreement with the Doctor.
“We win.” Claire was adamant.
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MARIE
Marie held the lens tightly in her hands. Somehow it had wound up in her hand as the paramedics and firemen cut her out of the SUV. She was awake for every moment. The army of strangers telling her not to move about and they would have her out soon enough. Sparks sprayed across the corner of her eye like fireworks and a terrible noise came from someplace close to her as they tore open the door on her side of the wreck. Marie couldn’t see her friends in the wreckage as the emergency workers struggled to lift her out without further injury. Was everyone else safe? Marie held the Lens in her hand tightly against her chest. Somehow it seemed like it was important and she wasn’t willing to let go of it – not even for the paramedic in the ambulance who kept insisting he needed her to relax her hand.
“Sweetie...it’s OK, you just need to let go of the piece of glass. It’s cutting your hand.” Was that what she could smell? It only took a moment as she relaxed her hand on the Lens and it was gone from her.
Marie screamed at the violation and grasped at it as the Paramedic examined it. He pushed her hand down and the lens vanished from view.
“What’s your name?”
She thought of Peter holding the Lens in the school ground. Was that where it had come from? The Paramedic shone a torch in Marie’s eyes and it bought her back into focus.
“What is your name sweetie?” She struggled to say it. She tried again:
“Marie.” The paramedic smiled at the response. Marie was making a real effort.
“OK Marie...I need to look at your hand...if you can open your hand a little so I can look at it.” Marie released her grip a lot and something Woolly was pushed into her palm.
“OK Marie, it’s just a little cut from the lens, but you will be fine.” Marie struggled to speak.
“M’friends?” The whisper caught the paramedic’s ear. He nodded.
“Your friends will be fine.” The bandage around the hand, he held the lens in view of her immobilized head.
“Here you go Marie.” The Lens made it into the palm of her bandaged hand and she gripped it with less force.
“So you like lenses Marie?” The topic of the Lens seemed to interest everyone in the Ambulance as it headed for its destination.
“It’s Peter’s” Concern smothered the Ambulance. They hadn’t seen any males in the crash. Had they missed one?
“Was Peter in the car with you?” No. the shake of her head seemed to let them off the hook.
“He’s a boy from my school.” The paramedic smiled at what he was hearing and turned to look elsewhere in the Ambulance.
“Peter must be a nice friend to let you have his lens then huh?”
“No. I think he gave it to Vanessa...” The Paramedic winced at that childhood relationship disaster in the making.
“OK Marie, you hold onto the lens and give it back to Vanessa when you are better.” He looked away at some distraction.
“Peter.” Another voice spoke Peter’s name as a whisper. Was there someone else in the ambulance? Marie seemed confused now. Would she give the lens to Vanessa or Peter? The Paramedic looked sternly and scowled at someone she couldn’t see.
“Vanessa, Marie. Save yourself the heartache and give the lens to Vanessa.” A hand patted her wrist in sympathy.
The Ambulance halted and the back opened to a new crowd of people. There was a blur of words that Marie had often heard on Television. Something was said about Spine and head injuries. Her name was Marie and she was stable. They took her inside. A lady in a white coat like her science teacher shone a torch in her eyes and looked at a chart of notes in all likelihood made by the man from the Ambulance. She had seen the shows; they usually saved people – especially kids.
The lights of the ceiling rolled above her and became a blur until she felt the need to sleep.
“Marie?” At her name she saw Peter looking at her and smiling. Marie smiled back.
“I found your lens.” She tried to lift her arm to surrender the prize in her hand but could not.
Marie struggled to keep her eyes open, her grip on the lens became weaker until she simply no longer felt anything. Then it was gone. Someone said something in the distance but she no longer even wanted to try to listen to the voices or look at the lights. Weariness enveloped her. She could feel a noise slowing in her ears. The drumbeat further and further apart, the sound ever quieter until it was gone.
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VANESSA
It was Sunday when she woke. She really didn’t remember what had happened but the when she asked a Nurse if she could watch a Television her father revealed his presence by denying her access to the one thing she really enjoyed before he retreated out into the hall. Her Father was spending a lot of time talking to the Doctors out in the Hall. She didn’t hear much of it but he spent some considerable time holding his hands over his mouth and his eyes were filled with tears. Something was wrong. Vanessa returned to thinking about her television. For some reason they were refusing to let her watch Television. It just didn’t make sense.
For a time Vanessa looked out the window at the city. People were everywhere going about their lives. Eventually the amusement wore off and she started looking about in the room for something – anything to distract her from the boredom of being confined to a bed without television.
Vanessa looked at some of the things that seemed to belong to her – they were on a small table with wheels to make for ease of movement. Homework - she seemed to remember that she had a collection of math sums to get through before school on Monday. More than likely her father had dug the books out of her bag and placed them in reach. Vanessa flipped open the pages and looked around for a pencil. What is Seven plus eight times three minus six? The question was in word form so she wrote the numbers and installed the signs. Where they right? Vanessa flicked back through her work book to some done in class. They looked right. Vanessa returned to the Page of Homework problems and noticed an inconvenient lump under the pages that made it difficult to write. She lifted the workbook and noticed an all too familiar glass lens.
Vanessa looked at Peter’s lens. Had he been to see her? She didn’t remember seeing him visit. Why would he leave his lens with her? Did everyone know she was here? Her concern gave way to a new feeling. Having Peter’s lens made her feel happy and she held onto it for a while – abandoning her homework for the moment. Vanessa looked through the lens. It didn’t really seem to magnify anything in the room and she looked out at the hall. It was vacant through the lens. Her father had likely moved down the hall to talk to the doctor so she turned away and looked down at the people in the street. They had vanished from view.
Vanessa sat up to get a better look at the street with both eyes. There were people everywhere. Vanessa seemed confused. The lens again showed an empty street. That was wrong. The street was again filled with people as the lens was lowered and then the street was empty when Vanessa looked through it. She tapped it with her finger. It was obviously broken. Vanessa held the lens up and waved her hand behind it. She saw only the empty room - She didn’t exist. Was that it? Was she a ghost? Everyone out the window was a ghost. She looked at her father talking to the doctor in the hall. He wasn’t there when she looked through the lens.
Everyone was a ghost.
Vanessa dropped the lens on the bed and pulled her legs up against her chest under the sheet and held them tightly out of concern. She didn’t feel dead. How could everyone be dead and someone not say something; how could they not know?
Vanessa bit her lip. This was troubling. First no television and now she was a ghost.
Where was her mother? Vanessa looked at her father and the doctor. They were no good. They were ghosts like her. Mom would know what to do.
Vanessa saw something. For a moment she could remember a terrible noise and then it went away.
Her father pushed his head through the door.
“Vanessa? Are you OK?” He seemed concerned about her sitting up in bed rather than relaxing.
“Where’s Mom?” he looked away at the doctor and turned back.
“Mom is being helped by the Doctors right now.” That didn’t really make things better.
Her father returned to the Doctor and left the door not quite locked behind him slipped ajar of its own accord.
“Your wife will never walk again.” The words seem to startle Vanessa. Who were they talking about? They couldn’t be talking about her mother could they?
Vanessa returned to focus her attention on the confines of the room and looked at the lens lying on the bed-sheet all alone. How had it all gone so wrong? Why would Peter give her such a strange thing? What did it all mean?
thank you everyone who has made useful posts since i last checked the thread.
Once I have finished my current reading(I am reading the windup girl by Paolo Bacigalupi currently) I'll try the quantum thief and go from there.
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thank you everyone who has made useful posts since i last checked the thread.
Once I have finished my current reading(I am reading the windup girl by Paolo Bacigalupi currently) I'll try the quantum thief and go from there.
Keep in mind writing your own...now I'm a writer of Transhumanist Scifi I must peddle my own four part tale.
The Quantum Thief was pretty good. It had some fun ideas in it.
Older, you've probably already read it:
Bruce Sterling, Schismatrix