“If it were me, I’d show that uppity machine what for.”
this story is simply too much fun. it's a sci-fi artificial intelligence tale that borro[image]
“If it were me, I’d show that uppity machine what for.”
this story is simply too much fun. it's a sci-fi artificial intelligence tale that borrows bits from the con/heist genre, and it's also got magic and a healthy "take that, machines!" stance that i applaud.
it's funny and surprising and i'm not gonna tell you how it was done, because - as this story'll teach you - a little knowledge takes all the fun out of the world.
just a tiny review for a tiny story, but that gives you more time to go read it over at tor.com.
“If it were me, I’d show that uppity machine what for.”
this story is simply too much fun. it's a sci-fi artificial intelligence tale that borrows bits from the con/heist genre, and it's also got magic and a healthy "take that, machines!" stance that i applaud.
it's funny and surprising and i'm not gonna tell you how it was done, because - as this story'll teach you - a little knowledge takes all the fun out of the world.
just a tiny review for a tiny story, but that gives you more time to go read it over at tor.com.
“Yes. Of course. But there’s something—hello?” The tourist’s voice raised an octave, increased
“Do you see that?”
“I don’t see anything,” Chocky hissed.
“Yes. Of course. But there’s something—hello?” The tourist’s voice raised an octave, increased in volume.
Chocky heard it, then. Shuffling, groaning, the rip and tear of clothing. He grimaced. “Leave them be. Their business. Not ours.”
“What are they doing? There is blood. They’re covered in it.”
“Then they’re almost finished. Whatever it is. Don’t get in the way.”
“I should do something.”
“You should mind your own business.”
“We should alert someone.”
“There’s nobody to alert. Come. We’re almost there.”
Chocky launched himself forward through the netting. He felt no disturbances in the lines. Behind him the tourist quietly said, “They stopped.” And then he waited for the tourist to catch up to him.
well, golly. this story takes place in a violent underground world of things going bump in the dark, where "bump" usually involves blades or teeth or claws. and, oh you sweet soft human all kitted out in your mannerly condescension and technological precautions, eager to figure out what makes these people tick for your ego-serving theeeeeesis, you may have misjudged some things.
“They are doing terrible things,” the tourist said.
do not underestimate the underground.
if this story is too unpleasant for you, this author has...options:
“Yes. Of course. But there’s something—hello?” The tourist’s voice raised an octave, increased in volume.
Chocky heard it, then. Shuffling, groaning, the rip and tear of clothing. He grimaced. “Leave them be. Their business. Not ours.”
“What are they doing? There is blood. They’re covered in it.”
“Then they’re almost finished. Whatever it is. Don’t get in the way.”
“I should do something.”
“You should mind your own business.”
“We should alert someone.”
“There’s nobody to alert. Come. We’re almost there.”
Chocky launched himself forward through the netting. He felt no disturbances in the lines. Behind him the tourist quietly said, “They stopped.” And then he waited for the tourist to catch up to him.
well, golly. this story takes place in a violent underground world of things going bump in the dark, where "bump" usually involves blades or teeth or claws. and, oh you sweet soft human all kitted out in your mannerly condescension and technological precautions, eager to figure out what makes these people tick for your ego-serving theeeeeesis, you may have misjudged some things.
“They are doing terrible things,” the tourist said.
do not underestimate the underground.
if this story is too unpleasant for you, this author has...options:
Words were not required. Sometimes the only way you could tell someone you loved them was to show them something beautiful. Sometimes, he thought, you
Words were not required. Sometimes the only way you could tell someone you loved them was to show them something beautiful. Sometimes, he thought, you have to send it from very far away.
well, damn.
there's a lot here. and if i'm going to stick to my SHORT REVIEW FOR A SHORT STORY vow; the one that's meant to protect me from overthinking a handful of pages of writing - or at any rate, over-reviewing them - spending more time writing the review than it took me to read the story, well, i'm not even going to be able to scratch the surface of this one.
how he managed to do so much in so little space is beyond me.
the title, which tells you what to expect from the story, structure-wise, is perfect, bittersweet, and also a little sneaky. each of the segments marks the "last" of something in a character's life, but it's not always clear what that "something" is. for example, the 1978 section's "last" was unclear to me until it was revealed in 2007, four chapters later: LT thought about that day they ran from the thistles. Funny how you don’t know the last day you’ll see someone. and THAT'S the kind of smooth subtle writerly shit i love and is especially pleasing to come across in a short story.
to be honest, the science stuff - invasive species biological evolutionary global warming alien spores pollination etc - for me, that was all wallpaper. but the arc of lt's life, his family, the changes and dynamics and developments and the ratio of stated/implied, how much was conveyed in such a relatively short page count. just, damn.
if i keep going, i'm going to break my vow, but do go give this one a read. it's a short story bursting at the seams with compressed, barely contained layers. it seethes.
Words were not required. Sometimes the only way you could tell someone you loved them was to show them something beautiful. Sometimes, he thought, you have to send it from very far away.
well, damn.
there's a lot here. and if i'm going to stick to my SHORT REVIEW FOR A SHORT STORY vow; the one that's meant to protect me from overthinking a handful of pages of writing - or at any rate, over-reviewing them - spending more time writing the review than it took me to read the story, well, i'm not even going to be able to scratch the surface of this one.
how he managed to do so much in so little space is beyond me.
the title, which tells you what to expect from the story, structure-wise, is perfect, bittersweet, and also a little sneaky. each of the segments marks the "last" of something in a character's life, but it's not always clear what that "something" is. for example, the 1978 section's "last" was unclear to me until it was revealed in 2007, four chapters later: LT thought about that day they ran from the thistles. Funny how you don’t know the last day you’ll see someone. and THAT'S the kind of smooth subtle writerly shit i love and is especially pleasing to come across in a short story.
to be honest, the science stuff - invasive species biological evolutionary global warming alien spores pollination etc - for me, that was all wallpaper. but the arc of lt's life, his family, the changes and dynamics and developments and the ratio of stated/implied, how much was conveyed in such a relatively short page count. just, damn.
if i keep going, i'm going to break my vow, but do go give this one a read. it's a short story bursting at the seams with compressed, barely contained layers. it seethes.
“We were many too, once,” she repeats, barely a whisper. “I really am sorry.”
this is an imaginative, elegiac story, a missive from the place be[image]
“We were many too, once,” she repeats, barely a whisper. “I really am sorry.”
this is an imaginative, elegiac story, a missive from the place between being and not; a signal from the space between the final breath and whatever comes after.
in this space, a group of endlings assemble, briefly, as oddly-matched housemates; tiger, rhino, dodo, shrew, pigeon, predator/prey alike, where they say goodbye to the world, telling their stories before being ushered out on a noah’s ark-like vessel into the sunset of extinction.
there is also one human among them; an orphaned girl named linnea who has a choice - to join her found family on their journey or to stick around a bit longer.
it's a very solid story. bolander’s writing is as strong here as in The Only Harmless Great Thing, and it draws the reader in and keeps them pinned.
she writes animals in captivity so wonderfully sorrowfully well:
They capture a few of the young birds alive and send them back across your waters. The last will be put on display as a public attraction, a curiosity kept in a dank, dark little chamber at the back of a shop. She will huddle into herself, feathers fluffed to ward off the chill of this gray place so far from her tropical homeland. The people who pay their pennies to see her will laugh at how round she looks, how plump and silly and vacant-eyed.
it’s a very moving story; poetic, thoughtful, emotionally resonant.
that's all i'm saying: "short review for a short story" goal intact!
“We were many too, once,” she repeats, barely a whisper. “I really am sorry.”
this is an imaginative, elegiac story, a missive from the place between being and not; a signal from the space between the final breath and whatever comes after.
in this space, a group of endlings assemble, briefly, as oddly-matched housemates; tiger, rhino, dodo, shrew, pigeon, predator/prey alike, where they say goodbye to the world, telling their stories before being ushered out on a noah’s ark-like vessel into the sunset of extinction.
there is also one human among them; an orphaned girl named linnea who has a choice - to join her found family on their journey or to stick around a bit longer.
it's a very solid story. bolander’s writing is as strong here as in The Only Harmless Great Thing, and it draws the reader in and keeps them pinned.
she writes animals in captivity so wonderfully sorrowfully well:
They capture a few of the young birds alive and send them back across your waters. The last will be put on display as a public attraction, a curiosity kept in a dank, dark little chamber at the back of a shop. She will huddle into herself, feathers fluffed to ward off the chill of this gray place so far from her tropical homeland. The people who pay their pennies to see her will laugh at how round she looks, how plump and silly and vacant-eyed.
it’s a very moving story; poetic, thoughtful, emotionally resonant.
that's all i'm saying: "short review for a short story" goal intact!
Her eyes darted restlessly to the endless scroll of must-haves to the right of her main view: spa getaways, mood boosters (completely safe!), a[image]
Her eyes darted restlessly to the endless scroll of must-haves to the right of her main view: spa getaways, mood boosters (completely safe!), and the latest fashions. At the upper right of her view were the icons for her own settings, as well as the parental access to her son’s space. Knowing she could always check his whereabouts should be reassuring, but it couldn’t warn her in advance, and that was the issue.
this is like that Black Mirror episode, Arkangel, but it takes its cautionary tale of mega-helicopter parenting into an additional layer of technology, set in a virtual reality where "lucky" folks are relieved of the demands of the physical body and the crushing responsibilities of life, free to relax or work or, in the case of our mother-protag, to raise her young son far away from the painful memories of betrayal and abandonment and the physical challenges imposed by his artificial limbs.
you know what kids don't like? being smothered and coddled in an artificial environment where nothing is any fun at all.
really good story here about parental assumptions and sacrifice and selfishness and ... options. much food for thought, and highly recommended by me, a stranger on the internet.
Her eyes darted restlessly to the endless scroll of must-haves to the right of her main view: spa getaways, mood boosters (completely safe!), and the latest fashions. At the upper right of her view were the icons for her own settings, as well as the parental access to her son’s space. Knowing she could always check his whereabouts should be reassuring, but it couldn’t warn her in advance, and that was the issue.
this is like that Black Mirror episode, Arkangel, but it takes its cautionary tale of mega-helicopter parenting into an additional layer of technology, set in a virtual reality where "lucky" folks are relieved of the demands of the physical body and the crushing responsibilities of life, free to relax or work or, in the case of our mother-protag, to raise her young son far away from the painful memories of betrayal and abandonment and the physical challenges imposed by his artificial limbs.
you know what kids don't like? being smothered and coddled in an artificial environment where nothing is any fun at all.
really good story here about parental assumptions and sacrifice and selfishness and ... options. much food for thought, and highly recommended by me, a stranger on the internet.
Orisa shook her head. “No plan except to keep going. Random choice perfectly acceptable.”
perfectly acceptable.
it’s not“Isn’t there some kind of plan?”
Orisa shook her head. “No plan except to keep going. Random choice perfectly acceptable.”
perfectly acceptable.
it’s not often that i have nothing to say about something i’ve read, even something as brief as one of these free tor shorts. but with this one, i got nothing. it’s true that it is outside my usual reading preference - outer space and bots and artificial intelligence, oh my! but beyond that superficial explanation (because i have enjoyed a few stories with those components before, here and there), the story itself didn’t make an impression on me at all. it’s not poorly written - that would have left an impression. it’s not that i didn’t “get” it. it just left me with literally no reaction. last night i was hungry, but it was too hot to go outside and i was too lethargic to be creative with my pantry’s contents, so i ended up shoving some plain bread in my face just to hold up my end of the bargain i have made with my body to keep karen alive. once the hunger pangs were quelled, i had no memory of even eating that bread. that’s how i felt after reading this story; the fulfillment of a self-imposed task: i have read my free tor short for the week. blink. now what??
i read a free tor short every week, and have been doing so for a few years now. they haven’t been posting as many new ones week-to-week as they used to, and some of them have been removed over the years, so there are fewer options from which to choose, since i refuse to read stories that are connected to a series i haven’t read. so i’ve been going outside of my comfort zone on these for a while, and sometimes they pleasantly surprise me, sometimes they confirm what i know about my own tastes, and very rarely, i emerge from my reading like this - flat as distilled water, beige as hotel art, unsullied as teflon &etc.
other readers may love this story. other readers may hate this story. me, i’m as blank as can be.
Orisa shook her head. “No plan except to keep going. Random choice perfectly acceptable.”
perfectly acceptable.
it’s not often that i have nothing to say about something i’ve read, even something as brief as one of these free tor shorts. but with this one, i got nothing. it’s true that it is outside my usual reading preference - outer space and bots and artificial intelligence, oh my! but beyond that superficial explanation (because i have enjoyed a few stories with those components before, here and there), the story itself didn’t make an impression on me at all. it’s not poorly written - that would have left an impression. it’s not that i didn’t “get” it. it just left me with literally no reaction. last night i was hungry, but it was too hot to go outside and i was too lethargic to be creative with my pantry’s contents, so i ended up shoving some plain bread in my face just to hold up my end of the bargain i have made with my body to keep karen alive. once the hunger pangs were quelled, i had no memory of even eating that bread. that’s how i felt after reading this story; the fulfillment of a self-imposed task: i have read my free tor short for the week. blink. now what??
i read a free tor short every week, and have been doing so for a few years now. they haven’t been posting as many new ones week-to-week as they used to, and some of them have been removed over the years, so there are fewer options from which to choose, since i refuse to read stories that are connected to a series i haven’t read. so i’ve been going outside of my comfort zone on these for a while, and sometimes they pleasantly surprise me, sometimes they confirm what i know about my own tastes, and very rarely, i emerge from my reading like this - flat as distilled water, beige as hotel art, unsullied as teflon &etc.
other readers may love this story. other readers may hate this story. me, i’m as blank as can be.
Outgrowing stuff is depressing, she’d say. I’d rather not.
meh. i was kind of tempted to give this one two stars, because i felt completely abandoned aOutgrowing stuff is depressing, she’d say. I’d rather not.
meh. i was kind of tempted to give this one two stars, because i felt completely abandoned at the end of it, and a little surly. but then i thought maybe it was just the frame of mind i was in, with personal loss clouding my perception, so i ended up going with a three, but it's a charitable, qualified three.
up until the ending, i was getting along just fine with the story - it presented an interesting scenario - a boy whose sister had gone missing, who felt guilty over her disappearance because he had abandoned her on their walk home in order to go flirt up a girl, and his search for her within the structure of a board game his parents had designed for them. it was a nice blend of sorrow and ambiguous magical realism - maybe happening/maybe just elaborate coping mechanism yadda yadda. it had good movement, mixing back and forth between memory, adventure, guilt, grief, and observation.
but then it just ...ends. it culminates in this moment of acceptance/closure for the character:
“Ok,” he said. “I get it.” He looked up and saw that the POLICEMAN was standing at the head of LIGHT STREET, beside the WAREHOUSE, watching him. “I get it.”
and then a concluding action that kind of left me baffled because i, for one, did not get it.
i'm perfectly willing to write off my comprehension-fail as the result of blurry-brained grief and exhaustion, but i have a suspicion that the open-endedness was intentional and meant to be one of those 'interpret it any way you want' stories that's fine for some readers, but if i'm expected to draw my own conclusions, i need more bread crumbs to follow. or more sleep. either way, it's a low three stars, whether the fault is my own or the story's...
Outgrowing stuff is depressing, she’d say. I’d rather not.
meh. i was kind of tempted to give this one two stars, because i felt completely abandoned at the end of it, and a little surly. but then i thought maybe it was just the frame of mind i was in, with personal loss clouding my perception, so i ended up going with a three, but it's a charitable, qualified three.
up until the ending, i was getting along just fine with the story - it presented an interesting scenario - a boy whose sister had gone missing, who felt guilty over her disappearance because he had abandoned her on their walk home in order to go flirt up a girl, and his search for her within the structure of a board game his parents had designed for them. it was a nice blend of sorrow and ambiguous magical realism - maybe happening/maybe just elaborate coping mechanism yadda yadda. it had good movement, mixing back and forth between memory, adventure, guilt, grief, and observation.
but then it just ...ends. it culminates in this moment of acceptance/closure for the character:
“Ok,” he said. “I get it.” He looked up and saw that the POLICEMAN was standing at the head of LIGHT STREET, beside the WAREHOUSE, watching him. “I get it.”
and then a concluding action that kind of left me baffled because i, for one, did not get it.
i'm perfectly willing to write off my comprehension-fail as the result of blurry-brained grief and exhaustion, but i have a suspicion that the open-endedness was intentional and meant to be one of those 'interpret it any way you want' stories that's fine for some readers, but if i'm expected to draw my own conclusions, i need more bread crumbs to follow. or more sleep. either way, it's a low three stars, whether the fault is my own or the story's...
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