"To Climb a Flat Mountain" (Analog, November and December, 2009) is a multifaceted story that takes place on a world that is very unusual in many ways. I'll have more on the world itself after everyone has had a chance to read Part II. Meanwhile, for information on the propulsion engineering, astronomy, and megabats to go along with Part I, you are invited to visit:
http://www.gdnordley.com/_files/TCAFM_Page3.html
For more information on the planet, and perhaps some responses to readers questions, look here about the first of November; I don't want to spoil the story for those who haven't had a chance to read it yet.
Of course the story involves a lot more than the "hard science," and I thought I would say a few words concerning the "soft science," or perhaps "metascience" behind the future history and circumstances that led Jacques face to face with the parrot-beaked shark, or playing ninja against kangasaurs.
At the time Jacques leaves the solar system, biological immortality has arrived through genetic reprogramming, machines do almost all the work. A vast array of solar power stations – or a tiny fraction of a Dyson Sphere, if you take the long view – has been built in the orbit of Venus to power starflight. We are at the beginning of a human diaspora to the stars.
The Solar System is ruled by a parliamentary Interplanetary Association, with a figurehead Empress Marie–someone of a here-unspecified combination of royal bloods drafted to cut ribbons and make speeches while the elected IPA Senate, and its presiding officer make and implement decisions. Yes, this is a nod to my favorite Heinlein novel, Doublestar, but also, I think, a logical choice for a maturing human civilization that has grown tired of cut-throat politics and cut-throat politicians, but still has some nostalgia for the romance of days gone by. We are a social animal with follow-the-alpha built into our genes; it works to have a safe alpha.
In this era, a tenuous and very slow relationship exists with the cybernetic "Galactic Library." The governments are worried about the impression humanity is making on the vast but very rarefied galactic civilization. What has happened at the double star, 36 Ophiuchi, is judged to be making a very bad impression. Imagine a combination of Jim Jones and David Koresh running a whole planet. What started out as a colony where a splinter group of the Mars Based "New Reformation" could be left in peace has gone horribly wrong, with child sex slaves, extreme misogyny, and many other forms of totalitarian depravity-really, really, ugly. Some of these people manage to call for help across 20 light years, knowing that any response will take 40 years plus debating time.
When the debate ends, the Solar System decides it has a moral duty to do something. That something turns out to build an overwhelming armada staffed by volunteers (there are no more professional soldiers) and launch it unannounced toward the unsuspecting 36 Ophiuchi. Aware that the colony has turned inward and has only the most perfunctory presence in space, and shares the conventional wisdom that interstellar war is impossible, they bypass the colony and decelerate behind the second star to hide their arrival. Unfortunately, there are a few cult sympathizers among the expedition staff who take it on themselves to commit acts of sabotage. In one of these acts, the deceleration system of the conveyor ship Resolution is sabotaged, and the starship is forced to find somewhere else to go.
If a "conveyor" ship getting taken out, and the deep standoff strategy remind you of something that happened in the South Atlantic back in 1982, that's intentional.
What happens then at 36 Ophiuchi is another story, which I may write some day. What I would like people to think about, as Jacques plays Robinson Crusoe, is whether such a war effort could be morally justified? Would cybernetic galactic librarians really care? What kind of people would volunteer for such a throw of the dice?
The survivors of the Resolution sabotage end up 600 plus light years from Earth and something like a thousand years displaced in time; what is their purpose now? Is it reasonable for Colette to cling to her identity as a policewoman? For Jacques, by being the first (as far as he knows) to emerge, he's the defacto leader. But is he the type? Are his goals those of the rest of the survivors?
One would think that religious conflicts would be a thing of the past, but it turns out not to be the case. Is theology the point of religion? Or is it social organization; a subjection of personal will to that of the leader in return for security and stability? I wrote this story long before I read "The Family" by Jeff Sharlet, but I can now recommend it as a companion piece.
Relativity in several senses plays a role in this story. Very soon, Jacques must decide to take chances that in other circumstances would judged suicidal. But if he doesn’t take them, he knows he'll eventually starve to death. 36 Ophiuchi was a long way from Sol, but now it seems next door. He finds himself developing a crush on someone he hardly knew, just because she may be the only other living person on the planet–and then he loses her horrifically, a psychological whiplash injury he treats with a ceremony.
Jacques' people choose an extreme risk rather than submit. Others choose to submit, despite intelligence and competence. Here I'm attempting to contrast the authoritarian-submissive personality and its opposite. described in my old Psychology text (Ruch and Zimbardo, 1971). My thesis here is that intelligence and learning really have little to do with this. Some people just are that way, and yes, it can happen here, and anywhere and anytime people who think stand aside. Then there is a price to be paid.
I see Jacques' non-assertiveness as actually attracting the non-authoritarian people, Doc, a professional outsider, Sub, who is happiest off on a lonely hunt, and the two individualistic women, Collette and and Helen. The group coalesces in adversity, but in what is more of a consensual than a dictatorial decision-making process; the only kind that would work with some of the people involved.
Changing gears a bit, the "flat mountain" concept came from a lot of driving over Tejon pass on Interstate 5 in California. There are numerous places where your eyes seem to tell you that you are going straight and level, or even downhill, but your engine is obviously laboring uphill. Once, just to make sure I was seeing things, I stopped and placed a tennis ball I happened to have with me on the road. It rolled to toward the back of the car; I was indeed going uphill. It was one example of how visual cues can overrule the inner ear in the perception of which way was up.
That is enough for now. I'll have more worldbuilding in November.
©2009 G. David Nordley
