Analog Science Fiction and Fact

by January February 2018 (pdf)

  future dinners out of your prospective re-

  was successful.

  search materials.”

  Behind her a double line of yellow-striped

  “Vegas,” she murmured, “is not ‘material.’”

  snappers finned in formation above branching

  He frowned. “That kind of humanistic ob-

  brown staghorn coral. Like a snaggle-toothed

  jectif ication makes for bad science, Claire.

  Jack-in-the-box, a gasping green moray

  You know that.”

  emerged from its hidey-hole to inspect the

  “It doesn’t matter.” As she shook her head

  world around it while allowing a miniscule

  slowly she wasn’t looking at him now. “Like

  cleaner shrimp to peck gently at microscopic

  you said, my time here is up in less than a cou-

  parasites.

  ple of weeks. I doubt I’ll get another exten-

  High above the moray, the aging example of

  sion.” Her tone was bitter. “You’re right about

  Sepia apama watched the strange smooth-

  that much, Carl.” Turning, she headed for the

  skinned shape shrink in the direction of the

  portal, pausing once to glance back. “But un-

  coral-free reef from which it always emerged

  til the day my flight leaves for Moresby, I’m go-

  and to which it invariably returned. Four ad-

  ing to keep at it.”

  joining tentacles on its right side rose and fell

  He nodded, trying to sound sympathetic. “I

  in unison.

  wish you luck. Believe me, no one would love

  Glancing back, Claire caught the move-

  to see you succeed at this more than I would.”

  ment—and froze. Hanging in the water, she

  She had no such luck, of course. Another

  could only stare.

  week f lashed by, marked only by the painful

  The gesture was repeated. Four right-side

  novelty of a severe storm that cost her two of

  tentacles rose up, then bent down. The sign

  her precious remaining working days on the

  for—goodbye.

  reef. Her only consolation as she brooded over

  Camera. Where the hell was her camera? As

  the looming inevitability of her departure was

  she fumbled for the compact video unit she

  that after a week’s absence, Vegas came back.

  debated whether to remain where she was or

  So she had a few f inal days with him. They

  return to the traditional observation point. She

  were no more fruitful than had been the pre-

  started swimming. Not too fast, she prayed.

  vious six months.

  Not too slow, she hoped.

  On the last day she lost it a little bit. Floating

  Pausing at the usual distance, she raised the

  before that alien, enigmatic invertebrate gaze

  camera with her right hand. With her left, she

  she abruptly began wildly waving her arms

  lifted all four fingers pressed tightly together,

  and contorting her body, signing with her

  her thumb pressed flat against her palm.

  whole being as well as with her hands an ex-

  Unblinkingly, Vegas responded. Four right-

  tended declaration of frustration. At f irst the

  side tentacles up, then down. Remembering

  cuttlefish jerked back his tentacles slightly and

  to breathe, she checked the camera she had

  retreated half a foot. But he did not f lee, did

  not had occasion to use in many months. In

  not ink. Instead he relaxed and watched, end-

  the viewfinder a small red light winked steadi-

  lessly curious, interminably unresponsive.

  ly back at her, like the eye of the Devil.

  Eventually exhausted, she ceased her fruit-

  Dead battery.

  less gyrations. All done, she knew. All over. Six

  A good scientist always, always travels

  98

  ALAN DEAN FOSTER

  JANUARY/FEBRUARY 2018

  with backup. Hurriedly placing the useless

  Alan Dean Foster's sometimes humorous,

  unit back into its pouch on her vest, she re-

  occasionally poignant, but always entertain-

  moved the second. A quick check showed it

  ing short fiction has appeared in all the ma-

  was half powered: more than enough. Turn-

  jor SF magazines as well as in original

  ing back to the hovering cuttlef ish, she made

  anthologies and several “Best of the Year”

  the goodbye gesture once again. It was not

  compendiums. His published oeuvre includes

  mimicked.

  more than 100 books. Foster's work to date

  She tried several times more before she no-

  includes hard science fiction, fantasy, horror,

  ticed that the always fluttering, flowing lateral

  detective, western, historical, and contempo-

  f ins were not moving. The camera lowered.

  rary fiction. He has written numerous nonfic-

  Finning forward, she reached out with her

  tion articles on film, science, and scuba

  free hand. She had never touched Vegas be-

  diving, as well as having produced the novel

  fore; had never tried to for fear of frightening

  versions of many films, including such well-

  him off. It was her experience that cuttlefish

  known productions as Star Wars, the first

  did not like to be touched. But there was no

  three Alien films, Alien Nation, The Chronicles objection, no retreat, as she first lightly made

  of Riddick, Star Trek, Terminator:Salvation,

  contact with the heavy body, then ran her

  and both Transformers films. Other works in-

  open palm along its ventral side. She pushed,

  clude scripts for talking records, radio, com-

  gently. The body started to float away. Already

  puter games, and the story for the first Star

  its healthy reddish-orange color was beginning

  Trek movie. His novel Shadowkeep was the

  to fade. The eyes, of course, remained open

  first ever book adapation of an original com-

  and visible; just not moving. Realization made

  puter game. His work has been translated

  her swallow hard. She could—she would—

  into more than fifty languages and won

  continue her research. There was no way she

  awards in Spain and Russia. His novel Cyber

  could cease it now. Even though she would

  Way won the Southwest Book Award for Fic-

  have to start all over again with another sub-

  tion in 1990, the first work of science fiction

  ject. Next time with a younger one.

  ever to do so. He is the recipient of the Faust,

  Vegas truly had been saying goodbye. ■

  the IAMTW Lifetime achievement award.

  TEN AND TEN

  99

  Probability Zero

  Margin

  of Error

  Paul Carlson

  ames and Dick worked as hard as any

  city blocks, and then select for any sort of de-

  political advisors before them, with

  mographic variable.”

  long hours and no days off. It was fortu-

  The image vanished. James added, “Here

  Jnate for Senator Everyman
that he could we have AI assistants instead of human staff.

  afford their services. After all, they’d boosted

  They’re quiet, and they never rest.”

  the current President of the United States into

  “Fascinating,” the immaculately camera-

  office. Now, two terms later, a would-be suc-

  ready Sincerity opined. “How is the 29th

  cessor needed to consult the very best.

  Amendment affecting your advisory work?”

  Too bad their main opponent, Governor Or-

  This time Dick responded. “It’s a great bless-

  dinary, soon engaged the services of an up-

  ing. Americans wanted a popular national

  start rival firm. They’d lose anyway, James and

  vote, and a modernized system that’s easy to

  Dick determined, and no matter what it took,

  use and hard to defraud.”

  within the bounds of the law. A field that, to

  Dick called up a different screen. “Here are

  their delight, included brand-new laws full of

  pink states that have online voting, the purple

  unforeseen possibilities.

  ones allow designated proxies, while those

  The men would not, of course, detail any

  marked with orange have dropped the voting

  such loopholes during the day’s major media

  age to sixteen. These green areas have full

  interview. Platitudes would suffice!

  handicapped access in every precinct.” More

  “Your office is more quiet than I’d anticipat-

  details followed.

  ed,” said CNN anchor Ms. Sincerity. “Most

  James concluded the interview. “Ms. Sin-

  campaign places are loud, frenetic even, and

  cerity, we’ve always enjoyed CNN’s election

  this facility seems more like a library.”

  night coverage. Now, with a linked system in

  “We use projection screens when needed,”

  place, we can track every vote in real-time, as

  James explained, and with a wave of his hand

  soon as the polls close in each state.” With ev-

  a richly hued wood panel wall became a vivid

  ident admiration, he mentioned several states.

  animation of the political landscape. “You see,

  “In those places we need not wait until the

  we can zoom in on states, districts, zip codes,

  polls close. It really does became a horse race,

  100

  JANUARY/FEBRUARY 2018

  because everyone can see who’s ahead and

  only added to the urgency, and the thrill, of

  push for extra turnout.”

  this most important of horse races.

  With individually customized ads and full

  “Time for our last-ditch surprise?” Dick

  media saturation, 98 percent of Americans re-

  asked James.

  ceived James and Dick’s entreaties on behalf

  “Let ’em roll,” James agreed. “He’s way too

  of Senator Everyman. Unfortunately for them,

  cautious, but I just now got an okay from

  Governor Ordinary and her team matched

  Everyman to fund the effort.”

  every effort, and with one week to go, the

  Dick released a fleet of self-driving cars.

  race tightened to a statistical tie.

  These raced to the homes of laggard but well-

  Polling margins-of-error shrank, via clever

  studied voters. Each vehicle was loaded with

  survey questioning and analysis of individual

  free electronic merchant coupons, all legal of

  voter’s social media posts, to less than .1 per-

  course, since not directly tied to an actual

  cent. Even this was too loose for the relentless

  vote.

  advisors.

  Eagerly watched minutes counted down,

  Finally, election day arrived. No rest for the

  and they’d tried everything. Governor Ordi-

  weary. The two advisors hadn’t seen daylight

  nary countered with creative moves of her

  in a week.

  own, and nationally the race shoehorned into

  “We’re ahead here and here,” Dick indicated

  the single digits. James paced, sat down,

  to James, “but slipping in these four districts.”

  paced again. Dick thumbed through Every-

  “Two urban volunteer teams are ready,” said

  man’s victory speech, not daring to look at the

  James, checking his own maps. “Nine hun-

  other, just-in-case version.

  dred and some van drivers apiece, and each

  The final polls closed. Minutes later, the

  ought to be able to ferry a dozen voters to the

  complete audited election totals came up. Sen-

  polls.”

  ator Everyman lost by one vote.

  “Over here,” Dick added, “online votes are

  James and Dick met each other’s gaze. What

  lagging. Federal servers are slow in those ar-

  more could they possibly have done? Then,

  eas, and also, over six hundred voters report

  with dawning horror, both men realized that

  home computer problems.”

  they themselves had forgotten . . . ■

  James stood ready. “We’ve got forty-one

  technicians close enough to make house calls,

  A Venn diagram which encompasses pro-

  and, where allowed, we’ll send in loaner lap-

  fessional truck drivers and science fiction

  tops, preset to link into the national voting sys-

  authors would meet at a very narrow mar-

  tem.”

  gin, occupied largely by Mr. Carlson. This is

  Hour after hour the election results tight-

  Paul’s second PZ story in Analog, with simi-

  ened, until only one eastern state was left,

  lar tales in print from Yard Dog Press. What

  polls still open due to a last-minute court or-

  that says about his thinking process is uncer-

  der. CNN followed closely, and viewers sweat-

  tain. He and his lovely wife Fujiko had an

  ed as the race narrowed to fewer than one

  awesome time at the WorldCon in Helsinki,

  hundred votes. By coincidence this occurred

  then visited numerous relatives there in the

  in the home state of James and Dick, which

  old country.

  MARGIN OF ERROR

  101

  One to

  Watch

  Andrew Barton

  wear my loneliness like an old jacket, bat-

  mans break the code of the Universe and

  tered and ragged with the lining spilling

  build ships that make starf light as easy as a

  out—the sort of thing no one would ever

  stroll to the beach, Mimas is where people

  Ichoose, but would wear it out as long as will go to whisper their sins where no one they had it. Autumn is coming, and it gets

  will hear, not even God—but I’m sure the old

  cold on Mimas.

  buzzard wouldn’t listen anyway.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” says Anh, my partner

  “Why not Mimas?” Anh asks with a frown.

  here in Mission Control. It’s just the two of us

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to tell him to just

  watching over the Herschel rover as it trudges

  walk right by.”

  across Mimas, a far cry from t
he days when

  It’s been minutes—plus the seventy-two

  rooms of serious scientists fussed over every

  minute radio delay, but that hardly counts—

  maneuver, named every speck of dirt, spent

  since Herschel stopped on Mimas’ rugged,

  days deciding which way the camera should

  pencil-grey surface, f lashing the “anomalous

  point. “It’s not natural. We can’t just ignore

  encounter” code, awaiting instructions.

  it!”

  I can’t bring myself to believe what it’s see-

  Few on Earth care about Mimas, really. The

  ing is real.

  Zuhal probe had dropped landers on cloudy

  Titan, with its freezing winds and methane

  When I was a kid, I found a hundred-year-

  seas, and Enceladus, spitting out water like

  old tombstone, nibbled by acid rain and fold-

  God’s own fountain, and Iapetus, which looks

  ed in greenery, that carried my name. Would

  like aliens glued two different moons togeth-

  the same thing happen to me in another cen-

  er. Cold little Mimas is an afterthought—all it’s

  tury, an entire life distilled into a slab? How

  got is a coincidental resemblance to hundred-

  close did humanity itself come to that—an en-

  year-old space fantasy.

  tire species, an entire world ground down

  “It can’t be anything,” I say. “On Mimas?

  into lunar landing debris and a handful of

  Come on.”

  probes f lung so deep into the darkness that

  It’s a lonely, quiet place. Perhaps once hu-

  no one would ever find them again?

  102

  JANUARY/FEBRUARY 2018

  Is that what Herschel’s found?

  over the next hill, one that leads down to the

  “That can’t be right.” My voice is hesitant,

  interior ocean no one’s quite sure exists or

  but not without cause. Other probes found

  not. I make sure Anh doesn’t see the extra in-

  squirrel-shaped rocks on Mars, hell, found

  structions I send, that for now will stop Her-

  what people were desperate to think was a

  schel from accepting any commands that

  face, built for them by some grander power.

  don’t come from me.

  “Perspective. Trick of the light.”

  “Bullshit!” There’s a sharpness in Anh’s

  I go outside into the empty hall. It’s still the

  eyes, an iron gaze. “Those are right angles.

  same recirculated air that tastes of dust and

  You can’t expect me to believe it’s a camera

  cracking plaster, yet fresher than what I

  glitch!”

  breathed in Mission Control anyway. There’s a