Up and Coming: Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

by Anthology

  The antiviral efforts of TV operators included the automatic distribution of anti-TVirs in their networks, which scanned the memory of the sets and wiped out the parasites. Programs for TV memory disinfection were also made available on the Internet. The TVirmakers responded with stealth TVirs, capable of completely disguising themselves. Furthermore, at a certain point TViruses became a fad: for example, teenagers who wanted to get back at their parents would infect the family TV sets, using special outer devices bought from the black market. The same market saw the advent of pre-TV boxes, which provided signal preprocessing along with the functionality of all viruses: sound manipulation, picture inversion, bouncing Bayraktar-type pest images, and even elements of AI, inserting moronic lines into movie dialogues and anchors' announcements.

  According to Keresztury, the most outrageous aspect of the whole story is that the TV set manufacturers never eliminated the commands and functions which made TVirs possible. They neither agreed to restrict the standard, nor provided virologists with any explanation for the necessity of having such powerful and dangerous options in an ordinary household appliance. Consequently, the author makes the assumption that the manufacturers had been planning to use the millions of TV processors for their own purposes—to employ parallel computations and then harvest the results, for example. (At the time, there was an extremely popular rumor that any extra computational power of household devices was being used in such a manner.) It was only when the TVir epidemics broke out and spread that two or three TV models were introduced whose hardware disabled any TVOS upgrades. However, firstly, these models were not very popular, and secondly, the hardware deactivation could be reversed by soldering a single pin onto the circuit board.

  The above does not contain any new or classified information: this has all been publicly available for a long time, and the author only deserves credit for gathering and systematizing it. Later in his book, however, Keresztury focuses on an entirely different type of TVir which had only been rumored to exist, without any substantiating facts or official statements. We refer to TViruses that contain subliminal messages as a "user" function.

  Subliminal suggestion techniques had been known since the previous century: a sound or a voice whose volume (or frequency) is just below the threshold of perception can still be perceived, although subconsciously. The same applies to images hidden in the video stream: by either using a 25th frame or dispersing the individual pixels over multiple frames. These techniques have long been developed by special services as a promising tool for "conviction pushing"—propaganda or advertising. But there is nothing, absolutely nothing, preventing their release as TVirs.

  In fact, Keresztury provides no evidence that such TVirs have actually been created and propagated. He only outlines the basic scheme and denies the rumors that subliminal viruses had been employed by the once notorious dictator Julio Cesar Milletbashian. As some of you doubtlessly still remember, Milletbashian was overthrown after an international intervention, provoked by reports that he was secretly designing a new generation of psychomanipulating technologies in order to zombify his subjects. Afterwards, however, no one could say what these technologies were, or whether they had existed at all. Keresztury, who at the time used to work for one of the departments responsible for Milletbashian's ousting, notes that in the country in question, due to the extremely low standard of living, digital TV sets were relatively rare, which means that the subliminal viruses would have only zombified the wealthy minority. Keresztury's department only discovered a few modified versions of standard TVirs of the Bayraktar and "Artuchki is a swine!" variety; furthermore, they had been used for campaigning against rather than for Milletbashian.

  It has been commonly believed that the discussion of Milletbashian's viruses—or, to be more precise, of their nonexistence—led to the book's incrimination and its author's arrest, on a charge of disclosing top secret information. Indeed, almost all the information concerning Milletbashian used to be classified until recently. However, according to most experts, the real reason, the real bomb, is hidden in the penultimate chapter of the book where Keresztury describes hemisphere-switching videomodifiers (HSVM).

  What is the general principle? It is a well-known fact that the brain has two hemispheres, each one inhibiting the other, so that at any moment one is dominant and the other is repressed. The left hemisphere is responsible for logic and speech, and the right for image perception. When a person is watching TV, especially if the picture is bright and dynamic, the right, irrational hemisphere is more excited and dominating, even in viewers whose left hemisphere is stronger. But Keresztury insists that if tiny, barely visible special changes (videomodifiers) are inserted into the TV picture, they would repress the right hemisphere and excite the left, which is the rational one. What is more, he sets out the exact technology for generating videomodifiers, along with all required formulae and algorithms.

  The modifiers are visually perceived as weak disturbances in the picture just above the threshold of perception. Their subliminal component manages to subtly attract the viewer's attention. Thus some visual areas in the right hemisphere are repressed, and otherwise easy image processing is hindered—as if a filter or a silencer were installed in the brain. The disturbances are generated according to a complex geometrodynamic scheme. Keresztury says that he discovered the scheme in the files from the celebrated Asanovic trial, documented as a report on mental disorders caused by an unknown illegal video technology. The report had been prepared by an intelligence agent called Michael Singh. Later on, Keresztury discovered that a similar method had been developed by a pair of Ukrainian humanitarian technologists, surnamed Datsyuk and Yakimets, who were investigated in connection with the regime of dictator Milletbashian.

  Keresztury concludes the section with the announcement that "quite recently"—that is, shortly before the book's first release in 2021—several TVir strains were discovered, employing videomodifiers using the Datsyuk and Yakimets method.

  It was never explained, however, which strains these were. No one else has ever detected them. The print-run of the book was seized, the author arrested…but this was not the end of the story. A few months later, Keresztury was kidnapped by an armed group from the prison truck that was taking him to court. About two years later, a journalist came across Keresztury in the town of Berettyóújfalu at the Hungary-Romania border and even managed to interview him, but the mysterious TVirologist disappeared again.

  Unlike his book, which literally days after the incrimination appeared as a file on various hardware sites on the Internet. The intelligence services acted swiftly against the online copies and even convicted three sysadmins who had been hosting the file on their networks. However, they found out much later that all their actions had been in vain. The book had become permanently available on websites in Bulgaria; but in order to remain undetected by search engines (and, in turn, the intelligence services), some of the letters in the file had been replaced by identical letters from the Cyrillic alphabet.

  All of this was revealed after the end of the First World Humanitarian War, when the previously competent authorities were disbanded and the TV networks, or at least what remained of them, were transferred to the control of the World Great Jihad Organization. Given current television standards, the possibilities of virus infection have effectively been ruled out, and the balance of information intended for the left and right hemispheres is closely regulated according to the decrees of our leader and teacher, Ayatollah Mukadassi as-Sadr. Therefore nowadays Keresztury's work is of purely historical value—which has made its triple reprinting possible, thanks to the enormous amount of reader interest. Let us all hope that its value will always remain purely historical. Allah karim!

  ***

  Jallal Masudi

  Thracian Kurdistan Book Review (Eski Zagara Hisar)2, vol. 152/2059

  Translated from the Kurdish by Ovanes Papazian3

  Bill Powell

  http://billpowell.org

 
The Punctuality Machine, Or, A Steampunk Libretto(Short story)

  by Bill Powell

  Originally published by Beneath Ceaseless Skies, both as a short story and also as a special large-cast podcast in celebration of the 150th episode of the BCS Audio Fiction Podcast.

  SETTING: The Arcadian hamlet of Fork-in-the-Heigh, many miles from London, on the eve of historic havoc.

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  WHITLOCK CARTWRIGHT (a Young Inventor-cum-Geometry-Tutor, Chronically Late)

  LADY CADENCE (a Young Beauty, Apparently Devoted to Geometry)

  JACQUENETTE (Personal Automaton to Lady Cadence. French. Mobility Somewhat Restricted by the Hose Providing her Steam Power.)

  VILLAGER 1 (a Villager)

  CHORUS of Villagers (Other Villagers)

  VRIL (a Charismatic Potentate of Extremely Alien Origin)

  CHORUS of Vrillians (Vril's Devoted Vassals)

  First produced at the Opera Comique, London, on 1 April 1882.

  ***

  ACT I

  (WHITLOCK CARTWRIGHT, wearing his least-patched TWEED, rushes onto the empty stage at L. before the closed curtain. Panting, he consults a hissing, steam-powered POCKETWATCH.)

  WHITLOCK (aside): Ha! A full ninety-seven seconds remain at my disposal. For once, I shall honour Lady Cadence with the punctuality befitting a fortnightly tutor in the Euclidean arts, particularly one who dares to harbour a passion so presumptuous that I dare not breathe it aloud, alone though I be in an antiquated alley of this charming but rusticated hamlet. (He approaches the CENTRE of the curtain.) Now I need only cross our sole plaza, which is, of course, perpetually deserted.

  (The CURTAIN opens.)

  (Scene: The central PLAZA of the hamlet Fork-in-the-Heigh. The VILLAGE CLOCK shows TWO minutes to TEN. A MOB of arguing VILLAGERS fills the entire PLAZA, completely OBSTRUCTING WHITLOCK's path to the TOWN HOUSE of LADY CADENCE, which stands on the far side of the plaza at R. of stage.)

  WHITLOCK: Brass tacks! What's all this?

  VILLAGER 1: (slaps WHITLOCK's face) Watch your language, sirrah! Though I suppose even a man of science can be forgiven a smidgen of profanity, given the morning's outrageous events.

  WHITLOCK: What events? Never mind, I've no time! (He attempts to push past, but the VILLAGERS lock ARMS around him in CONCENTRIC CIRCLES. As they GYRATE with WHITLOCK as their unwilling MAYPOLE, VILLAGER 1 addresses them ALL in SONG.)

  SONG—VILLAGERS

  (emphatic, even thumping)

  VILLAGER 1:

  What's all this? How remiss! What a social abyss!

  Our enamoured inventor in ignorant bliss!

  VILLAGERS:

  A momentous event he has managed to miss!

  We'll ensure he remains here as we reminisce.

  VILLAGER 1:

  For in this very place, from the reaches of Space,

  We have coolly conferred with an alien race!

  VILLAGERS:

  Yes, in this very place, with a grin on our face,

  We have cravenly cringed to an alien race.

  WHITLOCK: (speaks) I say, did you call me enamoured? How dare you imply—

  VILLAGER 1: (sings)

  I confess, these are news I expected to stun,

  But I solemnly swear by the nose of a nun,

  It's the truth, or my name isn't 'VILLAGER 1'.

  VILLAGERS:

  It's the truth! (Though he wishes the name were undone.

  What kind of a mother would saddle her son

  with a grave appellation like 'VILLAGER 1'?)

  VILLAGER 1's MOTHER: (popping up at the back of the crowd) Me!

  WHITLOCK (to VILLAGER 1): Why on Earth should I be stunned by an 'alien race'? A few foreigners on holiday—

  VILLAGER 1: Foreigners? These 'foreigners' ain't from Earth at all! Why, in this very place, among our very own fields (now much tramplified), we have entertained and intervened a star vessel from another world.

  WHITLOCK: What?

  (The VILLAGE CLOCK begins to gong TEN O'CLOCK. LADY CADENCE opens her front door, but WHITLOCK, his back to her, babbles on.)

  WHITLOCK: How could a vessel voyage across the gulf of Space? And why ever would it disembark at the hamlet of Fork-in-the-Heigh? Why not London? Paris? Anywhere?

  (The VILLAGERS scowl and mutter in OFFENCE.)

  VILLAGER 1: Well, sir, it seems they hadn't your Baedeker to plan their tour. They just landed, that's all, and after we'd made their acquaintance, we considered it prudential to return them starward.

  WHITLOCK: You sent them away? Imagine what wonders they might have bequeathed us! What advancements in knowledge! Instrumentation! Evening dress! (He spares a rueful GLANCE for his doubtful TWEED.) How could you? Brass—

  LADY CADENCE: Mr. Cartwright.

  WHITLOCK: Lady Cadence!

  (The VILLAGERS scatter with murmurs of 'Fine day, Your Ladyship', 'Beg pardon, Your Ladyship', 'Do avert your eyes from my plebeian squalor, Your Ladyship', etc.)

  LADY CADENCE: Once again, Mr. Cartwright, you have preferred the company of your contraptions to my own.

  WHITLOCK: I beg your indulgence! I had come unto the very gates of the paradise of promptitude when I found myself entangled, nay, ambushed, by the greatest discovery of our age!

  LADY CADENCE: Kindly spare us your elaborate excuses.

  SONG—LADY CADENCE, WHITLOCK

  (quick and strident)

  LADY CADENCE:

  Every man with rationality,

  Must acknowledge the centrality

  And immerse his personality

  In the joy of punctuality!

  WHITLOCK:

  But a tragic street fatality,

  Or a passing principality,

  Or the slightest technicality

  Can obstruct one's—

  LADY CADENCE: Enough! Mr. Cartwright, I shall no longer require your services.

  WHITLOCK: But, Lady Cartwright—I mean—Lady Cadence—

  LADY CADENCE: How can I learn the intervals of Geometry from a man so consistently unfamiliar with the intervals of the clock? Good day, Mr. Cartwright.

  (JACQUENETTE, personal automaton to LADY CADENCE and dressed in the latest French fashion, appears at the door. At her back, the HOSE providing her STEAM POWER emerges modestly from a pink satin FLOUNCE above her BUSTLE.)

  JACQUENETTE: (with a small, unintentional HISS of STEAM) Milady!

  (LADY CADENCE silences her with a gesture.)

  WHITLOCK: (deflated) Good day. (He stumbles away towards L. of stage.)

  JACQUENETTE: Ah! What a scene to arouse the sympathy! If only my eyes had the ducts of tears!

  (LADY CADENCE turns her back to the retreating WHITLOCK, SIGHS, and CLASPS her HANDS.)

  LADY CADENCE: (slowly) If he only knew.

  SONG—LADY CADENCE

  (slow and lilting)

  LADY CADENCE:

  His discovery's long overdue

  Of the passions so deep and so true

  That within me abide and accrue—

  Alas, if he only knew!

  With the feminine diligence due,

  I have offered him clue after clue.

  JACQUENETTE:

  Then milady, do tell him what's true!

  LADY CADENCE:

  I say! Let the man pursue!

  (LADY CADENCE sighs, glides down her steps into the deserted plaza, and PINES at R. of stage. JACQUENETTE loops her excess HOSE over one arm and follows.)

  JACQUENETTE (still singing):

  Perhaps he thinks your sympathy

  Is only geometric?

  LADY CADENCE:

  He can't believe I care for Math

  So useless and eccentric.

  JACQUENETTE:

  Perhaps he fears your firm farewell

  Is meant to be forever?

  LADY CADENCE:

  Not true! He knows he must pursue

  And win me by endeavour!

  (WHITLOCK, meanwhile,
at far L. of stage, rests an ELBOW on an abandoned PITCHFORK STALL marked 'SOUVENIRS'. He sings.)

  WHITLOCK:

  There's no deed that I doubt I would do—

  I'd acquire a minor tattoo!

  I'd consume a bucolic fondue!

  Alas, she would still eschew.

  (As he CONTINUES to SING, JACQUENETTE turns sharply and STRIDES towards him, to the full length of her HOSE. The MUSIC swells.)

  LADY CADENCE:

  Thus I trust he's preparing to woo.

  WHITLOCK:

  With disgust, she has bid me adieu.

  JACQUENETTE:

  By my rust! Now Monsieur's singing too!

  ALL:

  Alas, if he (she) only knew!

  (LADY CADENCE and JACQUENETTE withdraw into the HOUSE.)

  WHITLOCK: Brass tacks! How shall I ever regain her esteem?

  Shall I confess my true feelings? Impossible! She could never accept a man so wanting in punctuality.

  If only I could somehow re-live the last few minutes…

  Wait! Of course! If a vessel can voyage through the gulf of Space, why not the River of Time?

  Ha! I'll invent a Punctuality Machine! How could I have missed a solution so simple? I'll construct such a device in no time at all! To my workshop! Huzzah!

  CURTAIN

  ***

  ACT II

  SCENE 1

  (Scene: The PLAZA, now empty. The VILLAGE CLOCK shows a QUARTER to TEN. An EXPLOSION sounds off-stage. WHITLOCK is thrown on at L. of stage. He staggers up, his TWEED SINGED and SMOULDERING.)