News Fountain of Youth Film Picks Up Natalie Portman‚ John Krasinski and Eiza González By Vanessa Armstrong | Published on January 19‚ 2024 icon-comment 0 Share New Share Twitter Facebook Pinterest RSS Feed More From Apple See All Posts News Academy Awards Here Are the Genre Films That Scored 2024 Oscar Nominations By Vanessa Armstrong January 23‚ 2024 News sci-fi tv Traveling to Outer Space Will Mess Up Your Mind‚ According to Constellation Trailer By Vanessa Armstrong January 22‚ 2024 News Jurassic Park Welcome to Even More Jurassic Park: New Jurassic World Movie in the Works at Universal By Vanessa Armstrong January 22‚ 2024 Featured Essays Star Wars Rebooting Star Wars Is a Great Idea‚ Actually By Charlie Jane Anders January 23‚ 2024 Comment 3 icon-left-caret Caret See All Posts Apple TV and Skydance are moving full steam ahead on a thriller where the MacGuffin everyone is searching for is… a real (maybe) fountain of youth. According to Deadline‚ the team is shaping up‚ with Eiza González announced as part of the cast today‚ joining Natalie Portman (pictured above in Thor: Love and Thunder)‚ John Krasinski‚ and Domhnall Gleeson on the call sheet. The movie‚ which has a script from James Vanderbilt (Zodiac‚ the last two Scream films) centers on “estranged siblings‚” played by Krasinski and Portman‚ who find themselves involved in a global heist to uncover the Fountain of Youth that actually keeps people young. Well‚ maybe. The brother and sister must “use their knowledge of history to follow clues on an epic adventure‚” according to Deadline‚ which gives me strong National Treasure vibes‚ something I’m far from complaining about. The search for the fountain of youth also gives me whiffs of 2021’s The Jungle Cruise‚ starring Dwayne Johnson and Emily Blunt. (Side note: Blunt and Krasinski are married; could she have told her husband that all the best movies include the search for a mythical fountain that will make people immortal? Also‚ will this upcoming movie feature a rendition of Bob Dylan’s “Forever Young?” It will be a lost opportunity if not. Hire me Hollywood!) To give you another sense of what Fountain of Youth will be like‚ none other than Guy Ritchie (The Man From U.N.C.L.E.‚ Aladdin‚ 2009’s Sherlock Holmes) will be directing the project. No news yet when the film will find its way to a theater near you. The post <;em>;Fountain of Youth<;/em>; Film Picks Up Natalie Portman‚ John Krasinski and Eiza González appeared first on Reactor.

Featured Essays math Speculative Extrapolation: Five SF Visions of the Future‚ According to Math By James Davis Nicoll | Published on January 22‚ 2024 icon-comment 3 Share New Share Twitter Facebook Pinterest RSS Feed More From Cyril Kornbluth See All Posts Rereads and Rewatches Military Science Fiction Hope Amid Horrors: Redliners by David Drake By Alan Brown January 23‚ 2024 Comment 0 Book Recommendations A Vicious And Enthralling First Contact: Seth Dickinson’s Exordia By Charles Bonkowsky January 23‚ 2024 Comment 0 Rereads and Rewatches Star Trek: Enterprise Star Trek: Enterprise Rewatch: “Terra Prime” By Keith R.A. DeCandido January 22‚ 2024 Comment 2 Book Recommendations Science Fiction Incompetence Is Inevitable: Five Books That Illustrate the Peter Principle By James Davis Nicoll January 17‚ 2024 Comment 1 icon-left-caret Caret See All Posts Between June and late December‚ I noticed a disturbing trend. Daylight hours shortened day by day. Where we once had 15 hours of daylight‚ we now have a paltry 9. That is a loss of one hour of daylight per month. At that rate‚ by September of 2024‚ there will be no more daylight and night will rule eternal over a frozen wasteland.1 I am not alone in embracing the power of extrapolation. After all‚ if there’s one thing that experience teaches us‚ it is that short term trends always continue without bound—or at least they have over the month or so I tracked them. What futures await can be foreseen using simple math. Perhaps fictional examples of such extrapolations might help. Take the following five… Media Advertising has increased its impact on society over the last century. Shiny brochures assure us that the increasingly sophisticated methods available to the folks on Madison Avenue point towards a future in which convincing a skeptical public to back even a dubious candidate or policy will be as trivial as convincing them to buy an Edsel.2 Frederik Pohl and Cyril Kornbluth explored some implications of this trend in their 1952 classic‚ The Space Merchants. By the era in which The Space Merchants is set‚ vast corporations dominate the Earth. Their rule is dependent on skilled media companies presenting the masses with enticing messaging that is little inhibited by grim facts like material shortages‚ rampant pollution‚ or (as in the case of the upcoming Venus Project) the fact that Venus is unsuited for human occupation. Star-class copywriter Mitch Courtney of Fowler Schocken advertising agency‚ assigned the Venus Project‚ provides the reader with a thrilling tour of the high-stakes corporate politics in a world where truth is whatever the client wants truth to be. Fuel The world runs on fossil fuels. The total potential supply of oil is fixed (new oil reserves form far slower than humans use them up). There are finite quantities of fossil fuels. In fact‚ US oil production peaked in 1970. In the early 1970s‚ future known reserves were often given as about 30 years. Simple extrapolation reveals that all the oil would have been sucked out of the ground during the early years of the second Bush administration or given increasing demand‚ perhaps during the Clinton administration. The setting of Michael P. Kube-McDowell’s 1985 Emprise is shaped by two coincidental developments. The first is the Weak Force Intermodulation Projector‚ a cunning device that renders nuclear power generators as inert as the nuclear weapons the modulator was created to squelch. The second was the entirely foreseeable end to cheap power as oil reserves ran out without a nuclear option to replace them. Result: a new (although mercifully short) dark age of poverty‚ ignorance‚ and famine. Speed Between 1900 and 1960 the top speed achieved by human vehicles increased three hundredfold‚ from about 100 kilometers per hour to about 30‚000 kilometers per hour. This is equivalent to an annual increase in speed of about ten percent per year. Sixty-plus years having elapsed since 1960‚ it follows logically that top speeds should have increased another three hundredfold‚ to about 9 million kilometers per hour‚ just shy of 1 percent of the speed of light. To someone in 1960‚ it would have been unclear how this could be achieved. However‚ the math is a compelling argument that some path to these prodigious velocities must exist. Joe Haldeman’s 1974 classic The Forever War details an interstellar war facilitated in part by the development of tachyon-emitting rockets.3 Unbounded by the mass ratios of conventional rockets‚ tachyon-emitting rockets enable humans to traverse interplanetary and intrastellar distances as easily as navies traversed the oceans in the early 20th century. In combination with relativity and the astonishing discovery that collapsars provide instantaneous travel over galactic distances4‚ the tachyon rocket facilitates a largely pointless interstellar war that persists for centuries. Population Thanks to such factors as large families‚ decreasing infant death rates‚ and increasing lifespans‚ not only did the human population of Earth reach an astonishing 3.5 billion people by 1968‚ but it was reported that number was growing at slightly more than 2 percent per year. A straightforward calculation shows that the current global population must be somewhere in the vicinity of eleven billion people.5 Although it’s hard to imagine the hellish overcrowded world that math assures us we live in‚ science fiction has done its best. Consider J.G. Ballard’s 1964 story “Billennium.” Unlike some other authors‚ Ballard has faith that human institutions will find ways to feed the ever-expanding population. What governments cannot do is make land area.6 Accordingly‚ Ballard’s hapless protagonists live in buildings with ever-shrinking apartments. Circumstances encourage ingenious solutions to the problem of living space. Nuclear Proliferation Between 1945 and 1964 the number of nations with nuclear weapons increased five-fold‚ an increase of about nine percent per year. The number of extant nuclear weapons increased from three to thousands. Simple math suggests that over the next 60 years‚ the number of nations with nuclear arsenals could have grown to about 800.7 These nations would control many millions of nuclear warheads (in sum‚ not cooperatively). Nevil Shute’s 1957 On the Beach is but one novel to explore the disturbing implications of rampant nuclear proliferation. Legions of small‚ irresponsible nations armed with inexpensive nuclear weapons led to a catastrophic war that utterly depopulated the Northern hemisphere. Only those lucky enough to be in the Southern hemisphere survive…but only for the months it will take deadly fallout to reach the south. There is nothing to be done but accept inevitable death with dignity. Extrapolation is a powerful technique‚ one that allowed the authors of the past to predict the stupendously capable‚ impoverished‚ overcrowded‚ utterly depopulated world in which we’re apparently now living. These are merely a few examples of what can be accomplished using this simple method. There are many more. If I have somehow overlooked your favourite examples‚ as a simple extrapolation from past essays suggests I have‚ comments are (as ever) below. [end-mark] I will admit that I am unsure how to model an October 2024 day with negative one daylight hour. ︎The Edsel was an American car. Canadians can consider this as equivalent to a “Bricklin SV 1.” ︎Tachyon rockets emit particles travelling faster than light. The rockets themselves do not exceed C. ︎Not to mention the terrifically convenient coincidence that one of the Solar System’s nearest neighbors is a collapsar. The universe itself is compelled to accommodate the power of extrapolation! Or at least the imagination of the author. ︎The population should be even larger because the growth rate itself grew over the course of the 20th century. By now the annual growth rate could be four or five percent and the population fifteen or twenty billion. ︎Governments could try to make more land or make people smaller‚ but that’s a subject for another essay. ︎Given that there weren’t 800 nations in 1960‚ we should have expected a wave of regionalism‚ separatism‚ and pocket nations. Tom Lehrer suggests another solution‚ which is for subnational regions and NGOs to acquire nuclear weapons. ︎The post Speculative Extrapolation: Five SF Visions of the Future‚ According to Math appeared first on Reactor.

Theme/Series/Column SFF Bestiary Investigating the Mothman: The Paranormal Shows Tackle the Famous Cryptid By Judith Tarr | Published on January 22‚ 2024 icon-comment 0 Share New Share Twitter Facebook Pinterest RSS Feed More From cryptids See All Posts Theme/Series/Column SFF Bestiary Playing Paranormal Pinball: John Keel’s The Mothman Prophecies By Judith Tarr January 16‚ 2024 Comment 0 Book Recommendations cover reveal Revealing A Song to Drown Rivers by Ann Liang By Tor.com January 18‚ 2024 Comment 0 Theme/Series/Column SFF Bestiary Tracking the Cryptic Cryptid: The Mothman Prophecies (2002) By Judith Tarr January 8‚ 2024 Comment 0 Theme/Series/Column SFF Bestiary Let’s Talk About Cryptids By Judith Tarr January 2‚ 2024 Comment 0 icon-left-caret Caret See All Posts I had hopes that John Keel’s The Mothman Prophecies would focus more on the cryptid than it did. Mostly‚ it turns out‚ the book is about John Keel. Like the film that’s loosely based on it (as one witty commenter on the former noted)‚ it’s too much Man‚ too little Moth. Luckily for my insatiable curiosity‚ paranormal TV fills the gap as ably as mass entertainment can. Any show that investigates the unexplained will tackle Mothman sooner or later‚ and shows about monsters and cryptids can hardly avoid it. Mothman is an icon‚ and nobody knows what he is or if he even exists at all. What everyone agrees on is that in and around Point Pleasant‚ West Virginia‚ between November 1966 and the collapse of the Silver Bridge in December 1967‚ over a hundred people saw something. The day the bridge fell‚ the sightings stopped. The thing they saw was large‚ winged‚ and distinguished by huge glowing red eyes. Bicycle reflector size‚ witnesses said. It mostly seemed to appear around an abandoned TNT plant on the outskirts of town. People who saw it felt overwhelming terror—but they were also seeking it out‚ taking joyrides out to the plant to see if they could catch a sighting. Although Point Pleasant seems to have been the first appearance of the creature‚ there have supposedly been sightings since in other locations‚ including Chicago and La Crosse‚ Wisconsin. MonsterQuest’s Season 4 Episode 5 (2010) focuses on the La Crosse sighting of a huge winged creature with glowing red eyes‚ but also harks back to Point Pleasant. It describes a sighting in Sacramento as well‚ complete with video footage. The creature appears to be a harbinger of doom‚ though the only disaster it seems to have predicted is the Silver bridge. MonsterQuest declares itself on the side of science. The investigators propose that the huge red-eyed monster is actually a large‚ predatory bird‚ though they don’t quite commit to whether it’s a familiar species—a barred owl‚ for example—or one as yet unknown to conventional zoology. One team determines that the countryside around La Crosse might support a large winged creature‚ but they find no evidence of one. Another‚ back in Point Pleasant‚ demonstrates the unreliability of eyewitness reports. They set up wooden Mothman silhouettes of different sizes‚ complete with illuminated reflectors for eyes‚ and have people drive by them and then report on what size they thought the different figures were. The estimates range from a little bit off to way off‚ and often err on the side of too big rather than too small. Another experiment raises more questions than it answers. A police sketch artist works with witnesses to develop images of the various sightings‚ from Sacramento to Point Pleasant. All of them seem to him to be quite similar. He believes they’ve been seeing the same creature. I’m inclined to wonder about cross-contamination. People hear about Mothman‚ see a big flying thing with red eyes‚ their brains process the image as the famous monster. Monsters and Mysteries in America Season 3 (2015) devotes the whole of Episode 10 to John Keel’s theories about the events in Point Pleasant. Keel of course believes Mothman and his attendant phenomena are extradimensional beings—not extraterrestrial but ultraterrestrial. But Keel is a bit of an outlier among Mothman theorists‚ even though his book and the film on which it’s based actually put Mothman on the popular paranormal map. The end of the episode takes off in a weird direction‚ with investigator Andy Colvin exploring the chemical plant in Point Pleasant and encountering a shimmering light show and a shadowy figure. “Andy Colvin saw only one way out—through the veil‚” the narrator intones. Colvin thinks Mothman may be the Native American Thunderbird‚ and he’s not necessarily evil. He just is. Which is more or less what Keel concluded. The Mothman Sightings (2020) is part of a series called In Search of Monsters. We get the whole range of history here‚ from ancient Sumeria—none other than Pazuzu‚ the winged demon of the Exorcist sequels—to Point Pleasant and beyond. This Mothman’s eyes have hypnotic powers‚ which ups the ante on John Keel’s descriptions of witnesses struck with abject terror. The episode asks whether Mothman is “a campfire story that got out of control‚ or… is it real?” Of course‚ the episode notes‚ it’s also possible the cryptid was a terrestrial bird‚ either an owl or a sandhill crane. Owls are the right shape if not the right size‚ as MonsterQuest observed‚ and their eyes glow red in the dark. Cranes are the right color and closer to the right size. But this show is not here to stop at conventional reality. It segues to an eyewitness report that features a carload of teenagers out looking for a sighting and getting one—and the US military showing up and throwing them out of the abandoned chemical plant in Point Pleasant. It’s reminiscent of John Keel’s Men in Black warning people against talking about what they’ve seen. Clearly there’s something going on‚ some sort of secret government experiments. Unconventional weapons? Mutant supersoldiers? Whatever it is‚ the government doesn’t want us to know. Or maybe the government has nothing to do with it. Mothman is a supernatural force‚ a harbinger of doom‚ come to warn of an impending disaster. “There is in fact a death curse that’s been associated with the Mothman in particular‚” declares cryptozoologist Ken Gerhard. People who see the creature have been known to die prematurely and mysteriously (notwithstanding all the witnesses to the Point Pleasant sightings who are still alive and still telling their stories). Case in point: a young couple who believe they’ve been stalked by Mothman for a decade‚ “and it’s been pretty much destroying our lives.” What they describe is a standard paranormal predicament: a haunting that’s attached itself to them‚ with poltergeist activity and disembodied voices uttering threats and warnings. So of course they mount an expedition to the TNT factory‚ because if things are already bad‚ why not escalate? I watch a lot of ghosty shows. In the context of that thought-universe‚ if it’s a negative entity‚ also known as a demon‚ it’s going to feed on their fears. They want it to be Mothman? Then Mothman they’ll get. It doesn’t prove anything except that there’s something preying on these two people‚ and it’s not nice at all. It makes dramatic television. It doesn’t add much to Mothman lore‚ compared to a sighting in 1952 in Braxton County‚ West Virginia‚ not terribly far from Point Pleasant. This featured a UFO and a huge figure with—yes—glowing red eyes. Was that the arrival of the Mothman? Was the Mothman an extraterrestrial? Even John Keel admits that the Mothman sightings in Point Pleasant were accompanied by dozens of UFO sightings. Keel had less than no use for UFOs as spacecraft‚ but whatever they were or are‚ they proliferated in and around Mothman in 1966 and 1967. It’s a short step from alien spaceships to the conjecture that Mothman arrived in one. Whether Mothman is extraterrestrial or interdimensional or straight-up demonic‚ it’s not restricted to Point Pleasant. Witnesses have seen it in Houston‚ in Cornwall in the UK‚ and in 2017‚ in Chicago. These flying humanoids seem to stake out territory in specific areas‚ and there may be far more than one. They’re all over the world. Whatever they are‚ wherever they come from‚ they’re as real as belief makes them. That‚ really‚ is the essence of a cryptid. People want to believe. What they believe varies widely‚ but the belief is a constant. Even the debunkers can’t or won’t declare definitively that the creature does not exist—only that a particular sighting or set of sightings might be a misidentification of a much more mundane bird or animal. It still might exist. Somewhere out there. Maybe. [end-mark] The post Investigating the Mothman: The Paranormal Shows Tackle the Famous Cryptid appeared first on Reactor.

Featured Essays Superman The Essential Storytelling Device That Fuels Superman and The Matrix By Robert Repino | Published on January 22‚ 2024 icon-comment 0 Share New Share Twitter Facebook Pinterest RSS Feed More From hero's journey See All Posts Lists characters 12 Male Role Models From Science Fiction and Fantasy By Charlie Jane Anders December 5‚ 2023 Comment 0 News news Nicholas Hoult May Explore His Villainous Side as Superman: Legacy’s Lex Luthor By Molly Templeton November 21‚ 2023 Comment 0 Featured Essays Superheroes The Lesson That Superhero TV Shows Keep Learning By Charlie Jane Anders November 15‚ 2023 Comment 0 Lists storytelling K-pop Videos Hold the Key to Better‚ Weirder Storytelling‚ and Here Is My Proof By Kali Wallace October 11‚ 2023 Comment 0 icon-left-caret Caret See All Posts I am both proud and slightly horrified to say that my first published novel took over a year to write‚ and three long years to rewrite. And that’s not counting the failed book projects that preceded it over the previous fifteen years. Even after it managed to find a publisher‚ the novel was simply too long‚ with too many characters‚ too many plot twists‚ too much exposition. Oh‚ and the editor who acquired it asked me to cut over 100 pages. In the final stages of revision‚ I had a problem rounding out one of the major POV characters‚ whose motivations and decisions needed to be more compelling to match those of the protagonist and the villain. At that point‚ I found a solution buried in some of the movies that helped to raise me. When asked how I did it‚ I had a simple answer: “I Matrixed it.” “You did what?” came the response. “You know. I Supermanned it.” “What?” I should rewind a bit. When I think of special‚ transformative cinematic experiences that have changed my life‚ two films appear near the top of my list: Superman (1978) and The Matrix (1999). These are not surprising choices for a member of my generation‚ since both films set the standard in their respective subgenres. Superman is the first film I recall watching in its entirety‚ in the early 1980s. I saw it on a projector(!) at my babysitter’s house‚ followed by countless viewings on TV and video over the years. In 2018‚ I attended a special 40th anniversary screening‚ and was so overloaded with nostalgia that I thought I would pass out. While it’s difficult to match the joy and wonder of watching Superman as a child‚ my experience of seeing The Matrix came close. The marketing campaign‚ as I recall it‚ revealed virtually nothing about what the Matrix actually was. So‚ in 1999‚ I went to the movies expecting a middling sci-fi action movie about virtual reality and government espionage. Needless to say‚ my jaw dropped through the floor during the scene when Neo discovers the truth of the Matrix. It took me a while to realize that both movies use a nearly identical plot device to add depth to their protagonists. It took me even longer to notice that I had internalized this device in my own writing‚ and this realization proved to be a major breakthrough in completing my first published work. Of course‚ plenty of film buffs have already analyzed how Superman and The Matrix use the classic plot structure of the hero’s journey‚ in which the protagonist hears a call to adventure‚ leaves their familiar world‚ and returns profoundly changed. Embedded within that structure‚ for both films‚ is a three-step formula: Protagonist receives major piece of advice from an authority figure. Protagonist receives the exact opposite advice from another authority figure—one who may be ideologically opposed‚ or who has a completely different perspective or priorities. Protagonist must choose which piece of advice to follow‚ thereby completing their character arc and triggering the climax of the story. For Superman‚ it looks like this: Pa Kent tells young Clark that he was placed on Earth for a reason‚ implying that he should use his powers to help people. Jor-El—Clark’s real father—tells him that while he can lead by example‚ “It is forbidden for you to interfere with human history. Rather‚ let your leadership stir others to.” In order to save Lois‚ Clark must choose between his human father’s advice and his Kryptonian father’s advice. After wrestling with some conflicted emotions‚ Superman decides to reverse human history to save the woman he loves. For The Matrix‚ it looks like this: Morpheus tells Neo that once he begins to believe in himself‚ and accept his role as The One‚ he’ll be able to fight the agents who control the Matrix. Cypher gives Neo far more cynical advice: “[If] you see an agent‚ you do what we do: run.” Despite all the warnings about how he’s probably not The One‚ and how he might get all of his friends killed‚ Neo chooses to fight. “He’s beginning to believe‚” Morpheus observes. This device came to the rescue when I was trying to round out the above-mentioned side character. Here I should explain that my book—Mort(e)—is about animals becoming sentient and waging war with humanity‚ and that the character in question is a female pit bull. Upon becoming intelligent‚ she adopts the name Wawa (long story)‚ and is forced to become a hardened warrior‚ despite being gentle and protective by nature. By the end of the book‚ she finds her place among a community of exiled humans‚ who become her new “pack”. I realized that Wawa’s decision was‚ essentially‚ step three in the device. I traced it back to step two‚ about 75 pages prior‚ when she meets the leader of the humans. Step one was implied‚ but never depicted. And so‚ the very last thing I wrote for this book was a mini-scene‚ only about a paragraph‚ in which a fellow animal warrior recruits Wawa to fight against the humans‚ and convinces her to channel her rage into the war effort. The device was there all along—maybe by accident‚ but maybe because I had internalized it. There are so many things to love about this particular device. First‚ a good mentor-mentee conflict can reveal things like generational conflict‚ and how the world around them is changing. Second‚ it forces even a potentially passive character to act. In both Superman and The Matrix‚ there are long stretches in which the characters listen to info dumps. This is especially true for Neo‚ who understandably wanders about in a daze after his “rescue” from the Matrix. But the respective stories force a complex choice that goes beyond “go defeat the bad guy‚” changing the protagonist from a mere observer to the hero. Even better‚ this can serve as a worldbuilding device. Most writers would agree that the best worldbuilding relies less on exposition and more on showing how the world works‚ and how it impacts people. Here‚ we learn so much about the four authority figures who counsel the protagonist. Pa Kent is a decent man‚ shaped by his humble life as a farmer‚ so his advice to Clark makes sense. Jor-El is noble‚ with good intentions‚ but does not understand the human heart. Meanwhile‚ Cypher’s advice masks his own nefarious plans‚ while Morpheus’s position suggests that he might be a religious fanatic‚ obsessed with finding his messiah.1 The device therefore shows these characters to be products of their worlds‚ and worldviews. Finally‚ though it is useful‚ this device—and damn‚ it needs a name—is no shortcut. Ideally‚ the first two steps should involve some ambiguity‚ in which the hero must determine what the advice actually means‚ and how to apply it. The Riddle of Steel from Conan the Barbarian (1982)‚ for example‚ is just that: a riddle‚ open to varied interpretation. And Conan’s solution is not to choose one interpretation over another‚ but to create his own. Miles Morales does something similar at the end of Spider-Man: Across the Spiderverse (2023) when he announces‚ “Imma do my own thing.” And so‚ the device has many permutations. If you can think of other examples in film or fiction‚ let us know in the comments below… [end-mark] Earlier drafts of the script revealed that there were several people before Neo whom Morpheus believed to be The One. They presumably died while fighting the agents‚ which helps to explain Cypher’s growing disillusionment with Morpheus’s quest. ︎The post The Essential Storytelling Device That Fuels <;i>;Superman<;/i>; and <;i>;The Matrix<;/i>; appeared first on Reactor.

Rereads and Rewatches Star Trek: Enterprise Star Trek: Enterprise Rewatch: “Terra Prime” By Keith R.A. DeCandido | Published on January 22‚ 2024 icon-comment 2 Share New Share Twitter Facebook Pinterest RSS Feed More From Season 4 See All Posts Rereads/Rewatches Star Trek: Enterprise Star Trek: Enterprise Rewatch: “Demons” By Keith R.A. DeCandido January 8‚ 2024 Comment 0 Rereads/Rewatches Star Trek: Enterprise Star Trek: Enterprise Rewatch: “In a Mirror‚ Darkly‚ Part II” By Keith R.A. DeCandido December 11‚ 2023 Comment 0 Rereads/Rewatches Star Trek: Enterprise Star Trek: Enterprise Rewatch: “In a Mirror‚ Darkly” (Part I) By Keith R.A. DeCandido December 4‚ 2023 Comment 0 Rereads/Rewatches Star Trek: Enterprise Star Trek: Enterprise Rewatch: “Bound” By Keith R.A. DeCandido November 27‚ 2023 Comment 0 icon-left-caret Caret See All Posts “Terra Prime”Written by Judith &; Garfield Reeves-Stevens and André Bormanis and Manny CotoDirected by Marvin V. RushSeason 4‚ Episode 21Production episode 097Original air date: May 13‚ 2005Date: January 22‚ 2155 Captain’s star log. After a summary of “Demons‚” we get more of Paxton’s speechifying about the purity of humanity and the desire to get rid of alien influence. As an example of the horrible future that awaits them‚ he shows an image of the human/Vulcan hybrid baby. Because nothing says “humanity is doomed” like a cute little pointed-eared baby. Sure. Sato is unable to jam the signal and unable to get through to Starfleet Command. Paxton has aimed the verteron array at Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco. If all the aliens aren’t out of the solar system in twenty-four hours‚ he’ll fire on Starfleet HQ. Enterprise returns to Earth after Paxton takes a potshot at the ship with the array. Samuels meets with Soval and Andorian Ambassador Thoris. Apparently there are Terra Prime demonstrations outside both the Vulcan and Andorian embassies. Thoris wants to know why they haven’t left Earth yet. Samuels travels to Enterprise. Their options are limited. Paxton has jiggered the array so that destroying it will also wipe out the Utopia colony. Plus destroying the array will set back the Mars terraforming project and also endanger the colony. Samuels wants Archer to destroy it anyhow—the greater good and all that—but Archer recommends taking a small tactical team to try to extract Tucker and T’Pol and the baby and stop Paxton. If it doesn’t work‚ then Enterprise will go ahead and fire on the array. Image: CBS Paxton wants Tucker to refine the array. He just wants to destroy Starfleet HQ—as he says‚ he needs a scalpel‚ not a bludgeon. Right now‚ the array will wipe out half of San Francisco along with Starfleet. Paxton also lets Tucker and T’Pol meet their daughter‚ and T’Pol gets to spend time with her—but at gunpoint‚ as Paxton threatens T’Pol and the baby’s lives if Tucker doesn’t do as Paxton wants. Paxton explains how he got Tucker and T’Pol’s genetic material: from the frozen samples that are on board Enterprise‚ making it clear that at least one person on Enterprise’s crew is a Terra Prime supporter. While he works‚ Tucker talks with Greaves. Tucker didn’t like Vulcans all that much for a long time‚ but once he got to know some actual Vulcans‚ he changed his tune. Greaves admits that he’s never met any Vulcans‚ but he also blames them for the billions who died in World War III. When Tucker reminds him that first contact was after the war‚ Greaves reminds him that Earth was under observation by the Vulcans during the war. They could’ve stepped in and prevented it‚ but didn’t. Reed meets with Harris‚ who provides intelligence about Mars that is useful: if they fly just ten meters above the surface‚ the sensors can’t detect them‚ as they’re still calibrated for the thinner atmosphere Mars had before terraforming began. But they’ll have to get to Mars first; Reed assures Harris that they have that in hand. Tucker sabotages the array instead of improving it‚ because of course he does. Mayweather flies Enterprise toward Mars while hiding in a comet‚ and then uses that comet to hide the shuttlepod. Before they take off‚ Gannet reveals to Mayweather that she’s not a Terra Prime spy‚ she’s a Starfleet Intelligence spy. But she hasn’t revealed herself because she still hasn’t found the actual Terra Prime spy on board. Mayweather doesn’t entirely believe her‚ and leaves her in the brig. Image: CBS Tucker manages to escape captivity around the same time that a strike team that includes Archer‚ Reed‚ Mayweather‚ and Phlox (the latter because of the baby) invades the mining facility. When Archer arrives in the main control room‚ right when Paxton’s deadline hits‚ he contacts Sato‚ who was left in charge‚ and tells her to stand down‚ as they’ve taken over. Sato is grateful‚ as she was under significant pressure from Samuels to destroy the array. Then a firefight ensues when Greaves fires on Tucker when Archer sends him to turn off the array. Reed shoots Greaves‚ Paxton shoots Reed‚ and so on. It finally ends with a window breaking‚ and Paxton setting the array to fire. However‚ Tucker’s sabotage worked: instead of Starfleet HQ‚ it fires semi-harmlessly into the San Francisco Bay near the Golden Gate Bridge. (I say “semi-harmlessly” because I’m fairly certain some marine life did not get through that unscathed…) The rescue almost didn’t get pulled off due to sabotage of the shuttlepod‚ which Mayweather discovers. At first they think that Kelby is responsible‚ but soon they trace it to Ensign Masaro‚ who shoots himself in the head rather than answer for his crimes. The halfbreed baby‚ whom Tucker and T’Pol name Elizabeth after Tucker’s sister who was killed in the Xindi attack‚ does not survive‚ though Phlox’s autopsy determines that the cause is a flaw in Paxton’s cloning procedure and that Elizabeth would’ve survived if he hadn’t screwed that up‚ which means that future halfbreeds are definitely possible (which we already kinda knew…). The conference to negotiate the formation of the Coalition of Planets is back on‚ Mayweather and Gannet have kissed and made up‚ and the delegates to the conference all agree to attend Elizabeth’s funeral. Can’t we just reverse the polarity? Apparently the verteron array is being used to divert comets that strike the surface of Mars to the poles to aid in the ongoing terraforming of the red planet. Image: CBS The gazelle speech. Archer gives a semi-rousing speech to the delegates to the conference reminding everyone how far humanity has come in the last century‚ from wondering if they were alone in the universe to starting the process of a major interplanetary alliance. It’s a bit better than the speech for which this rewatch section is named‚ I’ll give him that… I’ve been trained to tolerate offensive situations. T’Pol immediately starts to take care of Elizabeth from the moment Paxton locks her in a room with her. Florida Man. Florida Man Saves The Day With Sabotage! Optimism‚ Captain! Phlox admits to Archer that he originally took the assignment to Enterprise as a diversion‚ something to allow him to get away from the complications of family (which are way more complicated on Denobula Triaxa) for a few months. He never anticipated finding a new family‚ and he takes Elizabeth’s death particularly hard (as does everyone else). Ambassador Pointy. Soval is‚ notably‚ the first person to stand and applaud Archer after his speech to the delegates. No sex‚ please‚ we’re Starfleet. After being informed by a tearful Tucker that Elizabeth could have survived with a better cloning procedure‚ T’Pol moves to hold his hand‚ leaving hope for the two of them in the future… I’ve got faith… “Hello. I’m your mother. You’re going to need a name. We should discuss that with your father.”–T’Pol introducing herself to Elizabeth‚ being at once sentimental‚ methodical‚ and logical. Welcome aboard. Back from “Demons” are Harry Groener as Samuels‚ Peter Weller as Paxton‚ Eric Pierpoint as Samuels‚ Peter Mensah as Greaves‚ Adam Clark as Josiah‚ and Johanna Watts as Gannet. Back from “In a Mirror Darkly‚ Part II” are Gary Graham as Soval and Derek Magyar as Kelby. In addition‚ Joel Swetow makes his third appearance as an alien on Trek as Thoris‚ having previously played a Cardassian gul in DS9’s “Emissary” and a Yridian freighter captain in TNG’s “Firstborn.” Josh Holt plays Masaro. Image: CBS Trivial matters: Strictly speaking‚ this marks the final real appearance of everyone in it‚ as the only ones we see again in the next episode are holodeck re-creations‚ and none of them have appeared again in any Trek production after that (at least not so far). Though both had recurring roles on Enterprise (and both made guest appearances on prior Treks)‚ this is the first time both Gary Graham and Eric Pierpoint have appeared in the same episode. The two were the leads on the tragically short-lived Alien Nation TV series. This is also the final episode of Trek to be scored by Jay Chattaway‚ who used many of the same musicians as on the first Trek episode he scored‚ TNG’s “Tin Man‚” which also guest-starred Harry Groener. Chattaway‚ who is now in his 70s‚ appears to have retired. The flute theme he created for TNG’s “The Inner Light” has continued to be a music cue on Picard. An alternate history where Paxton’s movement was successful and Earth became isolationist in 2155 was explored by William Leisner in the short novel A Less Perfect Union in Myriad Universes: Infinity’s Prism. The characters of Samuels‚ Soval‚ and Harris all appear in several post-finale Enterprise novels. Samuels is established as being the Prime Minister of Earth‚ a position he would retain through the Earth-Romulan War‚ and appears in The Good that Men Do and Kobayashi Maru by Andy Mangels &; Michael A. Martin and The Romulan War duology by Martin. Soval continues his role as Vulcan ambassador in those same novels‚ as well as in regular rewatch commenter Christopher L. Bennett’s Rise of the Federation series. Harris appears in several of Bennett’s RotF books as well‚ continuing his work with Section 31. Shran was originally supposed to play the role played instead by Joel Swetow‚ but they decided they wanted to use him for the finale instead. Why he couldn’t appear in both episodes is unclear. Image: CBS It’s been a long road… “The final frontier begins in this hall.” This is a surprising letdown after a very promising first part. There are a number of reasons for this‚ but the main one is that Terra Prime’s actual plan was completely unconvincing to me. I mean‚ seriously‚ if you’re trying to effect permanent change to make Earth pure again‚ quite possibly the worst way to go about it is to engage in terrorist activities and trying to use a very cute baby as the face of evil. Seriously‚ I found myself laughing out loud when Paxton finishes his Evil Speech of Evil by gravely saying that this is what the future will be and he shows us‚ um‚ a cute kid. Yeah‚ she’s got pointed ears‚ but that’s not a particularly big change. The whole thing might’ve worked better with a human/Andorian hybrid with antennae and blue skin or a human/Tellarite hybrid with porcine features or something that really looked like a halfbreed. But Elizabeth just looks like a cute baby with funky ears‚ and the reason why I’m emphasizing the cute is that most people’s reactions to a helpless and adorable little baby is to be protective and want to save it‚ not think that’s it’s the face of evil. (Of course‚ the reason why it’s a human/Vulcan hybrid is so we can have Maximum Tucker/T’Pol Angst‚ which is only not the feeblest development of their relationship by virtue of the existence of the endless “Vulcan neuro-pressure” scenes in season three…) And then Paxton threatens‚ not an alien embassy‚ but Starfleet Headquarters‚ which is mostly full of humans. And also indirectly threatens the Mars colony‚ which is also full of humans. But then it wouldn’t make for exciting enough television‚ I guess‚ to have Terra Prime politicians getting themselves elected to the government‚ have Terra Prime-sympathetic journalists (they almost went there with Gannet‚ but made her a spy instead‚ which‚ um‚ okay) pushing their agenda‚ and all the other things that would actually have a chance of working. There are parts of the episode that work nicely. I especially like Greaves’s justification for his membership in Terra Prime: the Vulcans sat by and watched as World War III raged. That’s a brilliant bit of writing there‚ because you can absolutely see where Greaves is coming from. But it’s just one piece of dialogue swimming upstream against Peter Weller snarling and a big gun threatening Earth. Paxton should’ve been Joe McCarthy or Donald Trump‚ and instead he’s a Bond villain. Snore. Also having Harris and the proto-Section 31 in this two-parter is a complete waste‚ yet another gratuitous use of the worst thing ever to happen to Star Trek as a franchise. Archer gets a Mulligan on the gazelle speech‚ and it almost works. It’s certainly more hopeful and impressive than what he said at the top of season two‚ but it’s still in the bottom tier of Captain Speeches in Trek history. Still and all‚ this would’ve made a nice series finale‚ with the moving toward an alliance‚ with the victory of unity over prejudice‚ with Tucker’s sad declaration that future human/Vulcan hybrids should be just fine‚ and with Phlox’s happier declaration that he found a new family on the NX-01. But we get one more. Alas. Warp factor rating: 6 [end-mark] The post <;i>;Star Trek: Enterprise<;/i>; Rewatch: “Terra Prime” appeared first on Reactor.

News star wars: the bad batch The Bad Batch Face Off Against an Infamous Foe in Season 3 Trailer By Vanessa Armstrong | Published on January 22‚ 2024 icon-comment 0 Share New Share Twitter Facebook Pinterest RSS Feed Pause Play More From Lucasfilm See All Posts News sci-fi tv Traveling to Outer Space Will Mess Up Your Mind‚ According to Constellation Trailer By Vanessa Armstrong January 22‚ 2024 Featured Essays Star Wars Rebooting Star Wars Is a Great Idea‚ Actually By Charlie Jane Anders January 23‚ 2024 Comment 3 Rereads and Rewatches Star Trek: Enterprise Star Trek: Enterprise Rewatch: “Terra Prime” By Keith R.A. DeCandido January 22‚ 2024 Comment 2 News trailers Spaceman Trailer: Adam Sandler Is Sad in Space‚ So Paul Dano’s Spider Alien Will Help Him By Vanessa Armstrong January 16‚ 2024 Comment 0 icon-left-caret Caret See All Posts The third and final season of Star Wars: The Bad Batch is set to premiere on Disney+ in February‚ and we now have a trailer that teases what’s in store for the surviving Bad Batch crew as well as Omega. But wait‚ there’s more—the end of the trailer also reveals that the surviving members of Clone Force 99 will face off against a well-known former Sith apprentice. That’s right: None other than Asajj Ventress shows up at the end of the trailer. “We love Asajj Ventress. She’s a character that we’ve been wanting to tell more stories about‚” Brad Rau‚ supervising director and executive producer on the series‚ told StarWars.com. Rau added‚ “We don’t want to spoil anything‚ but want fans to know that any new storytelling with Ventress will align with the events of Star Wars: Dark Disciple.” With this comment‚ Rau confirmed that all we know about Ventress from previous stories remains canon in Bad Batch‚ including the events in the Star Wars novel Dark Disciple‚ where Ventress… appears to have had some definitive things happen to her. The trailer also gives us a glimpse of the new character Phee‚ voiced by Wanda Sykes‚ and tees up how Omega is now a captive of the Empire‚ along with Crosshair. The remaining Batchers‚ still reeling over the death of Tech in the second season‚ are now set to rescue her‚ even as the Empire looks to hunt them down. The first three episodes of the final season of The Bad Batch premiere on Disney+ on February 21‚ 2024. Subsequent episodes drop weekly on Wednesdays‚ with the fifteenth and final episode‚ “The Cavalry Has Arrived‚” releasing on May 1‚ 2024. Here is the release schedule‚ along with the titles of the episodes‚ if you’re interested: February 21: Episode 1 (“Confined”)‚ 2 (“Paths Unknown”)‚ 3 (“Shadows of Tantiss”) February 28: Episode 4 (“A Different Approach”) March 6: Episode 5 (“The Return”) March 13: Episode 6 (“Infiltration”)‚ 7 (“Extraction”) March 20: Episode 8 (“Bad Territory”) March 27: Episode 9 (“The Harbinger”) April 3: Episode 10 (“Identity Crisis”)‚ 11 (“Point of No Return”) April 10: Episode 12 (“Juggernaut”) April 17: Episode 13 (“Into the Breach”) April 24: Episode 14 (“Flash Strike”) May 1: Episode 15 (“The Cavalry Has Arrived”) [end-mark] The post <;i>;The Bad Batch<;/i>; Face Off Against an Infamous Foe in Season 3 Trailer appeared first on Reactor.

Excerpts Nisi Shawl Read an Excerpt From Nisi Shawl’s Kinning By Nisi Shawl | Published on January 22‚ 2024 icon-comment 0 Share New Share Twitter Facebook Pinterest RSS Feed More From Alternate History See All Posts Excerpts Excerpt Read an Excerpt From Someone You Can Build a Nest In By John Wiswell January 17‚ 2024 Comment 0 Excerpts Excerpt Read an Excerpt From Sun of Blood and Ruin By Mariely Lares January 11‚ 2024 Comment 0 Excerpts Excerpt Read an Excerpt From The Longest Autumn By Amy Avery January 16‚ 2024 Comment 0 Excerpts Excerpt Read an Excerpt From Where the Dark Stands Still By A.B. Poranek January 18‚ 2024 Comment 0 icon-left-caret Caret See All Posts We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from Kinning‚ the sequel to Nisi Shawl’s alternate history debut Everfair‚ out from Tor Books on January 23. Tink and his sister Bee-Lung are traveling the world via aircanoe‚ spreading the spores of a mysterious empathy-generating fungus. Through these spores‚ they seek to build bonds between people and help spread revolutionary sentiments of socialism and equality—the very ideals that led to Everfair’s founding.Meanwhile‚ Everfair’s Princess Mwadi and Prince Ilunga return home from a sojourn in Egypt to vie for their country’s rule following the abdication of their father King Mwenda. But their mother‚ Queen Josina‚ manipulates them both from behind the scenes‚ while also pitting Europe’s influenza-weakened political powers against one another as these countries fight to regain control of their rebellious colonies.Will Everfair continue to serve as a symbol of hope‚ freedom‚ and equality to anticolonial movements around the world‚ or will it fall to forces inside and out? CHAPTER ZERO June 1916Kisangani‚ Everfair Princess Mwadi knelt in the jasmine’s warm shade. Both Sifa and Lembe slept. That had never before happened‚ but the eyelids of both her mother’s women stayed shut when Mwadi whispered their names. And Lembe snored‚ though lightly. And Sifa smacked her lips‚ which she would never have done in Mwadi’s presence while awake. Daring discovery‚ the princess stood‚ still lapped in the vines’ deep green shadows. Her brother Ilunga lay within the palace walls‚ recuperating from the new illness under the care of Yoka‚ one of their father’s most trusted and discreet counselors‚ and visited frequently by King Mwenda himself; her mother‚ Queen Josina‚ had established rooftop gardens to house the hives of her holy bees upon her return from her diplomatic mission to Angola‚ and there she was to be found most days. Though ostensibly the queen dwelt here in the palace courtyard with the other royal wives and daughters‚ Mwadi had quickly learnt how to amuse herself without expectation of her mother’s praise or censure. And also how to seek out and enjoy her mother’s company without being shooed away from the secrets Queen Josina liked to gather. How‚ as Miss Rima Bailey would have put it‚ to sneak around. The trick was to become something else. No longer content as a velvet-faced‚ sturdy-armed thirteen-year-old girl‚ Princess Mwadi concentrated on her resemblance to the sighing rain‚ then slipped free of the pavilion’s overhanging roof to join the rain’s fall. Languorous in the midday’s moist heat‚ ranks thinned by the ravaging new illness‚ the palace guard proved no impediment to Mwadi’s departure. And Kisangani’s thoroughfares led her where she wanted to go so easily—the dwindling waters between built-up roads coming no higher than her knees‚ so that she might wade unmolested the whole way. Buy the Book Kinning Nisi Shawl Buy Book icon-close Kinning Nisi Shawl Buy this book from: AmazonBarnes and NobleiBooksIndieBoundTarget The city had grown since her father first established his court here‚ back before she or Prince Ilunga had been born. And it had grown even more in the two years since she acted the role of Bo-La alongside Miss Rima in Sir Matty’s play. The atolo tree planted near the shelter of the king’s ancestors stood surrounded now by many similar shelters sharing the tree’s protection. So broad its branches‚ by itself the tree darkened almost all the sacred precinct’s ground. So high its crown‚ the misting rain wreathed around its leaves like dagga smoke. So snaking its roots‚ she had to stoop to the soil and feel her way among them with her hands. So fat and slick the trunk‚ she didn’t even try to climb it‚ merely clasped it to her‚ breathing in its clean‚ wild scent. She had reached her goal! She threw back her head in joy and saw it—the king’s original ceremonial shongo‚ yes! The green of its copper was duller and bluer‚ the curves of its blades were fuller and longer‚ than the intervening foliage. So high above her head… impossible to touch it. It had stayed lodged in the gleaming brown bark higher than the ceiling of the palace pavilion for more than forty seasons—ever since her father hurled it there and decreed that whoever drew it free would rule after him. Warning stories told of the injuries borne by pretenders to Everfair’s throne in their pursuit of this prize: multiple bones broken in sudden‚ inexplicable falls; crippling wounds gouged in their flesh by the beaks of invisible crows. But from the overheard conversations of her mother’s rivals‚ the princess knew for certain that once she released the shongo from its resting place she could call herself her father’s heir‚ as these women’s sons had attempted to do. As her stupid brother Ilunga had tried to do as well. She had to retrieve it for herself‚ successfully—but how? Arching her back‚ she continued gazing upward. A limb emerged from the tree’s main body to the shongo’s right‚ and just a little lower. Thinning gradually‚ gracefully‚ the long limb drooped near its end—Mwadi whirled to check—low enough! Or nearly so; she picked her way to where it waved almost‚ almost within her grasp. A glance around: no one was present. As she had planned. Offerings would be made later‚ at the time of the evening meal. Nobody had been here when she arrived‚ and nobody had arrived since. With practiced swiftness she unwound her headwrap—a wider strap than babies wore‚ as Mwadi was soon to be a woman. A couple of tosses and it went over the limb. First she dragged the limb down. When the wood no longer bowed to her weight she paused to make sure again she was alone‚ then jumped! Still hanging by the loop of her headwrap she swung her legs high and locked ankles around the lowered limb. Of course it held her. Creeping along its underside like a caterpillar—bunch‚ stretch‚ bunch‚ stretch—she moved toward the tree’s center. Once there it was a struggle‚ but she got herself upright and facing in. No dizziness or loss of grip or balance. No plunge from this hard-won height. No flock of ghosts. Now. Bracing herself by tightening her thighs she leaned left‚ took the wooden haft of the king’s shongo in both hands‚ and tugged. It came free slowly‚ like a well-watered cassava plant. Triumph! Everfair was hers! Entranced by her happy prospects she sighed and stroked the glowing‚ newly naked blade‚ largest of the shongo’s three. Burial in the atolo tree’s flesh had kept it shining bright. As bright as the future reign of Queen Mwadi. Now to tell King Mwenda‚ so he could make the succession official. And to share the news of her good fortune with her mother‚ his favorite. And to gloat openly‚ in his face‚ upon her victory over Ilunga. No‚ she would be kinder to him than that. Appoint him minister of something. He was her brother‚ after all‚ by both father and mother. Surely that mattered. According to Queen Josina‚ every relationship entered into mattered. Each was of the utmost importance. Slowly‚ thoughtfully‚ Mwadi came down off of the atolo limb and untied her headwrap. She wound it around and around the shongo’s shaft‚ pulling it tight‚ then laid it loosely over the sharp-forged cutting edges. Her mother shared wisdom like it was chocolate‚ always possessed of a personal supply from which she doled out small bits‚ seemingly on a whim. Mwadi had learned as a child to savor her mother’s pronouncements‚ to chew them over and extract their constantly changing‚ ever-refreshing truths. As the princess left the grove surrounding the atolo for the ramp leading down to the partially flooded thoroughfare‚ she frowned at the ground on which she walked. She was going to reign over this land—over this earth‚ over the very soil clinging to her bared feet. Was that a relationship? Even now‚ at this point‚ before she actually ascended to Everfair’s throne? Or perhaps not even then. Perhaps only relationships with living entities should be counted? The trees‚ then? A low branch brushed the top of her head as she stepped onto the ramp’s gravel‚ as if in a tender farewell. The peak of the day had passed‚ and Mwadi met a few others on her way home to the palace. Other subjects: young people running errands for their elders‚ whites ignoring the inconvenience of doing business during the heat’s height. Were the Europeans whom King Mwenda had demanded fealty from also in important relationships with her? Or only those she knew personally‚ such as Sir Matty? No one stirring about recognized her without her attendants‚ and Mwadi reached the palace steps quickly and easily. Sifa still slumbered in the courtyard; Lembe woke‚ but fell in immediately with the princess’s pretense of being on her way to the bottom of the staircase that climbed from courtyard to rooftop. For Lembe to do otherwise would have been to alert Queen Josina to her inadequacy. It would have been to admit that she’d neglected to do her job. Instead‚ when the queen came out onto the roof through the door of the interior stairway‚ her serving woman was diligently oiling the carved wooden stand of one of her holy hives. Mwadi watched the queen walk slowly between the tubs containing her budding flowers and fragrant blooms. Reaching the sheltered platform where the princess reclined‚ Queen Josina paused to observe her woman at work. “How is my brother?” Mwadi asked dutifully. She sat up and reached beneath her couch to retrieve the cloth-swaddled shongo and began to unwrap it. Her mother stepped onto the platform and sank to the cushions beside her. “Well enough. The disease is coming to accept his superiority.” She swung her head one way‚ then the other‚ checking for any who overheard them. None of the other wives were visible; though supposedly it belonged to all‚ this garden was known as Queen Josina’s private retreat. “All signs indicate Mwenda will take my advice on the succession. So eventually‚ Ilunga will rule over all the rest of our land just as he’ll rule very soon over the organism causing this illness.” No he would not. “Naturally‚ a position of such distinction brings with it a high measure of risk. We must guard him carefully…” Josina’s long‚ proud eyes rested lightly on the bundle occupying Mwadi’s lap. “What are you about to show me?” Not waiting for Mwadi’s answer‚ the queen twitched aside the last of the veiling headwrap. “Ah. Is this—this is the knife your father threw!” “Yes. I pulled it from the atolo tree. That means I—not Ilunga— am my father’s heir.” Her mother smiled with closed lips. “You are his heir when he says so.” “He will! He has to! Mother‚ you can help me to persuade him of my rights!” Mwadi took the shongo by its handle and tried to lift it from her lap. Josina’s hands barred hers from rising. “Are you sure you should do this?” She drew back‚ staring. “Of course I am!” “Are you sure this is how to get what you want?” All certainty drained from Mwadi’s head. Why would her mother object to her becoming queen? Why would she favor buffalo-headed Ilunga? “Do you even know what that is? What it is that you want?” “Everything! I want everything!” A wider smile now. “Yes. You are truly my child.” And now her mother’s long‚ strong fingers curled over Mwadi’s own‚ reinforcing her grip on the shongo. “We will have it. Everything you want. Trust me.” Mwadi had always trusted her mother. The question had always been whether her mother trusted her in return. Some secrets‚ the queen kept saying‚ it was impossible to share. “Can you tell me how we will win?” “You know that I am an initiate in the mysteries of the Yoruba‚ a priest of the orisha Oshun‚ yes? She who is the owner of wealth and learning?” “I do.” “She who invented the form of divination I practice. She who holds high her golden light to show me which path of the many I can see that I should take. Which leads most surely to my desires.” Queen Josina’s exploration of foreign cultures was well-known— but had adoption of foreigners’ beliefs undermined her faith in her daughter’s abilities? Or did it somehow‚ by some devious means‚ support it? “Your desires?” “We are in harmony. I have learned the best melodies to play‚ the best places in which to move our feet.” The queen stroked the back of Mwadi’s clenched hand. “You must relax. As I said‚ trust me.” She beckoned‚ and Lembe abandoned her task to approach the platform. “Accompany Princess Mwadi to Prince Ilunga’s chambers‚” the queen instructed her serving woman. She leaned forward‚ speaking softly into her daughter’s ear‚ again stroking her hand. “You’ll give this to him for safekeeping.” “To Ilunga? No! Never!” She lowered her voice‚ too‚ but fierceness filled it‚ hardened it the way blows and heat harden iron. “I! I will be this country’s rightful ruler!” She jerked her hand‚ trying to free herself—and the shongo—from Josina’s grip. She couldn’t. “What if I agree with you on that point?” The queen was whispering‚ was close‚ her cheek touching Mwadi’s. The sweet scent of her hair oil threatened to wipe out all other smells‚ all sights and sounds and— Mwadi stood. She swayed only a little‚ only a moment. She kept her hold on the shongo. So did her mother‚ which Mwadi found steadying. “Then you do? You agree and acknowledge—” “Listen to me! Can’t you tell? Stop your insolence and obey me!” The queen stood too. “I know what I’m doing! I know this reality! I am ready to enter it—though if Oshun had not prepared me for your stubbornness I would have you poisoned!” Quickly Josina wrested the shongo away from Mwadi’s surprised grasp. But only to hold it before her‚ between them. “You will present this to your brother. You will explain to him that you found it at the atolo’s foot‚ in a bowl filled with black sand such as we use for metal casting. You’ll make sure others hear your story‚ and that they repeat it. “Do these things and anything else I instruct you to do. The throne and the land will be yours.” June 1916 to June 1920Kisangani‚ Everfair‚ to Cairo‚ Egypt Should he lie? Prince Ilunga shifted his weight from one aching elbow to the other and gazed away from his sister’s gift. Then back. Resplendent on a fur-covered cushion it lay‚ his father’s first ceremonial shongo‚ a three-lobed promise of sovereignty. He who pulled it from the trunk of the atolo tree was to be named King Mwenda’s successor. Should Ilunga claim the feat of retrieving it as his own? With the shongo in his possession‚ his claim would have real weight. It would ease the pricking soreness lingering from that earlier attempt‚ that ugly failure seen by all. But what of those who’d seen Mwadi bring the shongo to him here? The guards outside his door? Or the flat-chested woman seated by his bed‚ the one his mother had assigned to attend to Ilunga as his illness receded? Not to mention anyone his sister might have met on her way to his rooms. Not to mention his sister herself‚ gone now. Gone to report to someone? To his mother? There was no hope of untangling the threads of Queen Josina’s intricate plots. He must just believe she always put his interests first‚ as she swore she did. “Why does my sister want it‚ anyway?” he grumbled. The flat-chested woman spoke‚ startled. “She doesn’t! She gave it to you!” He ignored her words. But her presence was not unwelcome; though you couldn’t call her attractive‚ at least she was a woman. He was young and needed practice. “Here. Use some of that salve on me. My limbs—” Clacking beads interrupted him as his mother swept through his bedchamber’s door. “Queen!” The woman—he ought to learn her name—dropped to the floor. “Your son’s health improves by the hour. I was going to you with my news as soon as those bringing the evening meal arrived.” “No need for that.” Josina touched the woman’s shoulder and she got up. “I see his progress.” An arched brow and the delicate flare of the queen’s nostrils indicated her approval. “He’ll be able to join his father tomorrow when he holds court.” “Is that when we’ll receive the Portuguese envoys? Are they on—” A sharp glance from his mother stopped the prince’s questions mid-spate. “The secret envoys spent last night in Mbuji-Mayi‚ and they rest there again today to observe a feast of their religion.” She paused and he had time to absorb the full strength of her emphasis on “secret.” “Rosine‚ go fetch the prince’s evening meal yourself.” The poorly endowed woman left. No great loss. The coaching in diplomacy Queen Josina gave him once she was gone more than compensated for missing a chance to flex his love muscles. During the formal reception held for the Portuguese the next day‚ and in all his dealings with subjects and foreigners afterward‚ he did his best to remember her teachings. Regularly she received visits from foreigners—often from those who had initiated her in her religious mysteries. When these visitors departed she would spend long night hours treading intricate dance patterns to music audible only to her ears. Some whispered that his mother was mad. If so‚ it was a cunning madness. “Do not reveal the extent of your intelligence to those who assume you lack it‚” she counseled him‚ again and again. “Play the fool in public and in private act the sage‚ and you’ll both surprise your enemies and please your friends.” He watched as she accepted without protest the Portuguese ambassadors’ reluctant refusal to speak to the other European governments on Everfair’s behalf. Later‚ in the markets following his country’s surrender to the English‚ Ilunga learned how invisible activity—spying‚ magic spells‚ nested schemes—bore visible fruit. Despite the attacks on their sovereignty instigated by Thornhill and other British agents‚ his mother cultivated Everfair’s ties to certain of England’s factions. Because‚ she said‚ “Our enemies are made of more than one kind of cloth.” As the seasons passed‚ Queen Josina encouraged Ilunga to dig his own information channels and direct their flow. She expected him to use these to help her keep up with schisms developing between those who planned a return to Europe’s fast-vanishing superiority. The so-called War to End War resulted in a litter of smaller conflicts‚ most fought with words and smiles‚ in hidden rooms‚ on metaphoric battlefields. Judged a harmless playboy‚ Prince Ilunga was easily able to observe the Europeans and their surrogates as they jockeyed for knowledge and position. He journeyed from city to city‚ avowedly in pursuit of pleasure: west to Lagos‚ south to Maputo‚ east to Mogadishu‚ north to Cairo. Where‚ at the age of thirty-five seasons—eighteen-and-one-half years—he found his first real friend. Deveril Scranforth grinned when Ilunga introduced himself as the future ruler of Everfair‚ and leaned back to balance his wooden chair on two spindly legs. “Ha! One day you’ll outrank me‚ then. But for now—” Without looking he stretched wide both arms and hooked each around the waist of a deep-chested beauty. “—for now‚ I’ll be teaching you a thing or two‚ what? And you’ll be grateful for that—and show it!” Smoke from their host’s hookah drifted between them on its way to the night-curtained windows. Attending this soiree was part of the standard plan Ilunga’s mother had devised for gathering intelligence: woo the offspring of embassy personnel and allow himself to be drawn into their social groups. Attendance was part of the standard plan‚ making this a completely unremarkable evening‚ but ever afterward Ilunga remembered it as the beginning of a new phase in his dedication to savoring the world’s glories. Heightened awareness of his surroundings‚ helped on by the judicious consumption of cocktails‚ filled him with the sense of his surroundings’ divinity: the satin sheen of the throw pillows scattered about him on his divan‚ the jewels winking in a passing guest’s cuff links‚ the sweet residue of honeyed melon coating his lips‚ the tinkling chime of the golden chains adorning the wrists and ankles of the laughing woman who leapt up from Scranforth’s lap and snuggled cozily onto his own— despite his weak protests. “Not a virgin‚ are you?” As if Ilunga were still a boy! “No!” “Good. Nothin wrong with it if you were‚ but I’d want to start you out a bit slower.” The white crooked his finger and two more beauties congealed out of the crowd to stand beside him. “Which of em d’you want? All three of em? Like to keep one for m’self.” To go from the glittering heat of the party to the dark fragrance of the house’s fountain-fed garden took only a few steps. Only a moment. And then the prince was enveloped in flesh. Above‚ below‚ on either side‚ perfumed skin slid and slipped against his clothing. Then against his nakedness. Touch receded‚ returned‚ receded‚ returned‚ new waves rippling over old ones like the music of the fountain waters rising and falling somewhere nearby… like the fickle breezes laden with the party’s distant murmurings‚ or the thickening breaths of the women wrapping him in pleasure. Then Scranforth’s voice came crashing through their panting sighs: “What d’ye say? Good play? Best hoors in Maadi—in all Cairo! Agreed?” The soft lips kissing Ilunga’s eyelids went away. He opened his eyes and his mouth‚ about to bellow furiously at the European’s interruption—but the soft lips came back‚ to graze his jaw and cling moistly to the ridges and valleys of his throat—and his delight at this found its reflection in the pale‚ half-shaven face hanging over him. The prince realized he wasn’t actually angry. Delight mirrored was delight doubled. Bliss upon bliss proved this new truth. To receive a caress and cry out at its shivery progress—from spine to buttocks to tight and tingling testicles— was to share and deepen its effects. Was this increase in his arousal a sign that Ilunga wanted sexual congress with the white man? He tried asking his mother. Sometimes he believed she knew him better than he knew himself. But the coded messages he sent her went unanswered. All the queen responded with were instructions: stay in Cairo‚ enroll in Victoria College‚ rent a home there that his sister Mwadi could run for him. His father wouldn’t blame him for a trait only Europeans and missionaries abhorred. Would he? Probably not. Although Ilunga’s usefulness as King Mwenda’s heir would perhaps be compromised… No. That sort of thinking belonged in the head of Queen Josina. Who‚ if she said nothing of her son’s predilection‚ must not consider it to be a problem. And for him it wasn’t. Adventures with Devil—so Ilunga came to call his new friend‚ adopting the pet name employed by his fellow students—filled most of the prince’s nights‚ and quite a few of his days as well. The white man knew the town’s best brothels. Even more conveniently‚ he introduced “Loongee” to several women willing to entertain them for no money—though not exactly for free‚ as Ilunga quickly learned. His first such encounter was with a buxom‚ cheerful matron whose nephew controlled the stock certificates of the Great Sun River Collector Company. She was easily satisfied. In addition to plowing the slick delta between her thighs—Devil stationed titillatingly nearby‚ ostensibly to watch out for the woman’s husband—he only had to purchase fifty shares of the company‚ at a surprisingly moderate price. But soon the prince learned how to fend off these requests. This meant that sometimes‚ to his regret‚ he also had to fend off the proposals of erotic exercise they accompanied. Enough of those remained to keep him happily occupied‚ though. And despite a couple of petty disagreements‚ and one serious quarrel involving a firearm‚ he made sure to include Devil in any activities of that sort. Ilunga dedicated an entire suite of his Maadi villa to sexual pursuits. He arranged a door communicating with the room where Devil often stayed. Once or twice he invited others to visit‚ hoping to experience the same intensified gratification in their presence. As far as Prince Ilunga could tell‚ his experiments failed. He felt no comparable increase in sensation when he shouted his satisfaction in the hearing of his sister’s European protégés‚ the Schreibers; no wider or even equivalent overflowing of deliciousness when he hosted other college friends for similar nights of sexual indulgence. Nonetheless‚ his efforts made a difference. How? Chiefly through his memory. Ilunga knew he was reaching for connection to others. He was aware that he cherished the touch of the women who attracted him‚ and that he yearned to share it. He realized how he longed to drench the strangers of the world in these women’s musk‚ to be soused in their sweat‚ to drown in it while drowning his white companions with him. Memories of these desires dug their grooves deep into his mind. Incompletion kept them fresh and sharply edged. Memories‚ like all stories‚ want to tell themselves. Asleep‚ Prince Ilunga dreamed that his fantasies came true. Awake‚ he forgot the specifics of how that occurred. But the happiness his dreams left behind haunted him. Awake‚ the prince pretended stupidity‚ as Queen Josina had advised him to do. He acted as though ignorant of Devil’s plan to use him to access Everfair’s mineral wealth—and of some points in that plan he really was ignorant‚ because ignorance was easier than action. Ilunga always preferred to avoid unnecessary effort. In fact‚ it was Devil’s drives rather than the prince’s own unsteady ambitions that moved most things forward—especially things concerning the succession. Much of what the European wanted to do depended on Ilunga inheriting the throne. So in between their college’s lectures on the histories of dead empires and their evening assignations with willing women‚ Devil did his royal friend’s tedious yet necessary political work. Who‚ then‚ do you suppose gathered and treasured together Prince Ilunga’s unrequited attempts at blurring the boundaries dividing him from the rest of creation? Who do you think? CHAPTER ONE December 1920Tourane‚ Vietnam‚ Aboard Xu Mu Dragons. Best to follow them. Bee-Lung looked up at her brother. His long‚ appropriately handsome face became clear as the winch cranked her higher‚ toward the aircanoe’s open hold. His expression was calm. Those born in Dragon years expected to lead others even more than they enjoyed doing so. He really was the perfect node. The decision to share her specially bred new strain of May Fourth’s Spirit Medicine with him was proving wise. Nodding acknowledgment to the Bharatese man on the crank‚ Bee-Lung hitched her robe tight against her hips and thighs and hopped over the cargo basket’s low rim. Normally she wore trousers‚ but her appearance at the French administrative palace had merited the wearing of this concoction of peach-colored silk trimmed in crimson cord. It seemed to have done the trick; she would have to store it properly till the next stop on their trip. But first to tell Tink. He was already walking toward the hold’s narrow door out‚ sure she’d be behind him. She smiled at his back and ran forward. He paused at the threshold and turned‚ one foot still raised to step through. “Success?” he asked. The beginning of a furrow indented his brow. “Of a sort.” Without moving her head‚ Bee-Lung indicated the Bharatese man with her eyes. He had joined them too recently to be trusted‚ his inoculation only taking place today. “Come.” Out the door‚ along the corridor‚ to their shared cabin in Xu Mu’s gilded prow. “Now.” He closed the thick cotton curtains and pushed a sack of dried mushrooms out of his path to the glassed window. Porthole. “They’ve stopped short of giving consent for the cable’s inoculation‚ but they won’t stand in our way. As long as no one can implicate them.” “The French wish to seem ignorant of what we’re doing in their colony?” Tink’s voice had the sheen of sarcasm. “So I interpret our interaction.” A crate of clay Spirit Medicine containers on the floor—deck—rattled as the aircanoe rocked in a momentary gust. “Naturally we must prepare to leave as soon as the spores are distributed. But my recruits will tend the threads they produce to expansion and fruiting‚ and will make sure the resulting conduits connect with the ones we started for our May Fourth friends.” Ducking under a small hammock filled with empty paper envelopes—she would use them to organize future botanical samples—Bee-Lung made her way to the cabin’s second and larger porthole. It was shaded. She pushed the white pleats to the round frame’s bottom and looked out over the city the French called Tourane. Xu Mu faced away from the mouth of the Han River and away from the telegraph cable’s landing station on the shores of the East Sea. The red roofs under which Bee-Lung had lately intrigued lay almost directly below. The French invaders’ mooring facilities were barely adequate—a rope was all that held the aircanoe to their mast. Low clouds gathered and parted and gathered again‚ veiling the inland mountains in pale obscurity. “At least it’s warm‚” her brother remarked. “If the rain keeps off we’ll have no trouble tonight.” “No need for you to go yourself‚ then.” “But I want to.” Of course he did. “No need‚” Bee-Lung repeated. Uselessly. Not just Dragon‚ Metal Dragon. “Would you rather I sent you?” This was a jest on Tink’s part; it had been determined earlier the differing roles she and her brother would assume on this voyage. “No.” She pulled the shade back up and frowned. “They’ve already seen me.” “Ha! They’ll never see me! I’m not getting caught!” He went to crouch over the jars of Spirit Medicine. “They accepted the tea we brought them without noticing?” “Even so.” The threads of Spirit Medicine that they had secreted in bundles of fragrant tea leaves were so thin as to escape detection. Stored in the palace pantries‚ these would be available to May Fourth’s new kitchen agents for later inoculations. Of which there would assuredly be many. “Enthusiasm for our venture will greet—” A scratching at the bulkhead interrupted her. The Bharatese man shoved the door’s curtains aside and came in holding a tray. “Raghu!” Yes‚ that was his name. Of course Tink knew it. “Are you ready?” “And eager!” Light from the glowing sponges in his tray of bowls winked off of Raghu’s sudden grin. Like that‚ it was evening; the day had been dark enough that the change had slipped past her without fanfare. Bee-Lung took a sponge lamp and hung it from its hook on the cabin’s ceiling. One of her favorite discoveries; the radiance of the powder impregnating it was fired by water. So gentle its shine. So sad‚ like a setting moon. There was no reason for sadness. Tink would be fine. Her trepidation over the deployment of a gang numbering unlucky four was mere superstition. The May Fourth Movement’s very name repudiated such backward notions. She took a second lamp to hang. “You should sleep‚” Tink told her. She tugged fretfully at the tight cuffs of the silk robe’s sleeves‚ which had crept up to pinch the fat of her upper arms. “I should get out of this abominably restricting dress.” “And then sleep.” While changing to her accustomed clothes‚ she imparted the intelligence obtained by the kitchen agent regarding approaches to the cable’s terminal station. Then‚ because it was her policy to obey her brother‚ even when he didn’t realize he’d given an order‚ Bee-Lung did manage to sleep—for several hours. She woke well before sunrise to dimness and silence. The water fueling the sponges would have partially evaporated by now‚ so the cabin’s dimness was to be anticipated. But not its silence. The lamps’ low glimmering showed that the hammock beside her own hung limp. Empty. Tourane‚ Vietnam‚ Aboard Xu Mu to the Governor’s Palace Seated with three of his chosen kin in the cargo basket‚ headed down to his first ground sortie in service of May Fourth‚ Tink felt a happiness he hadn’t known in years. If there was no conventional beauty left in the world for him since Lily’s death‚ he could at least be of some practical usefulness. The Chen twins seemed filled with the same high hopes for the mission he himself held‚ giggling as they hunched protectively over the braided coils of spore-laden root sheaths. Before the basket’s descent plunged them into the starless night’s darkness‚ Tink could see that Raghu’s expression looked less sanguine. Then there was only his scent to go by: the Bharatese man’s sweat‚ bitter with nervousness; his noxious inner winds released to be dispelled by gradually rising offshore breezes‚ which carried the sweeter smell of dying kelp. At last came the muddy odor of the freshly trodden road to their target‚ as promised by Bee-Lung’s intelligence. Climbing from the staging platform down to the ground along the bamboo stairway at the palace’s back‚ they encountered only one guard. Before he could raise others‚ Chen Min-Jun grabbed him by the throat. His scream softened to a grunt. “Come with us‚” the girl suggested‚ her strong hands twisting left and right‚ then loosening. “Or decide to stay‚” said her sister. “In which case we’ll be forced to kill you.” No surprise that the guard became at least a temporary recruit. Between the homes of colonialist collaborators clustering near the palace’s walls they walked—quickly‚ quietly‚ avoiding the treacherous‚ gravel-strewn entranceways of the more elegant establishments. Then these were left behind. Removing their lone lightsponge from his shirt‚ Tink lowered it to soak in a puddle and activate. He squeezed out the excess water and returned it to its former home‚ his body and clothes serving as its shade. They should not rely on their eyes alone. It would be best to frame their perceptions in the fashions nourished by the Spirit Medicine while on this mission. Soon the tingling air of the woods encroached more closely‚ and soon after that it enveloped them. Tink wanted to rest here‚ to lie among the enchantingly damp fallen leaves as if he‚ too‚ had come to the exact right place. But the road. The mission. The spores. The target. At last they’d reached it. Fragrant‚ new-turned earth‚ steaming with life‚ sat wetly mounded over the trench in which the cable traveled from its landing station in the bay to the terminal house on the forest’s far side. Here they would insert the latest of their spore batches‚ whose emerging threads would reach along that cable’s length to find the previous‚ the next‚ the next… He waited for Raghu‚ who lagged behind the twins and their captive. “Tools?” From a sling over his left shoulder the man removed a pair of collapsed shovels. Unfolding the one handed to him‚ Tink sank it into the soil. He directed the Bharatese to start digging a few paces farther from the road. The actions he performed were pleasurable: sinking in the shovel’s blade‚ lifting out the muck of knowledge‚ heaping it up next to one serenely expectant hole after another. He couldn’t delve too deeply; the holes’ round sides wanted to melt and sag. But once in place and active‚ the spores would sense their goal and reach down for it with quick-growing tendrils. When he and the Bharatese had excavated a dozen of these miniature gullets‚ they switched duties with the twins‚ tending the prisoner and watching for intruders while Min-Jun and Jie-Jun unspooled the precious root sheaths into the waiting orifices. This far from shore there would be no steel wire wrappings—only rubber and gutta percha layers to protect the buried cable’s copper core‚ materials that would help as much as hinder the growth of the spores’ tendrils. The Chens poured mud back into the holes. It overflowed them. Was this spot too wet for the fungus to flourish? Tink felt how long it would be till dawn. “Onward‚” he decided. The covered trench went straighter than the road‚ but in the same general direction. As they came nearer to the telegraph’s terminal station‚ the waters soaking the black earth drained somewhat away. Though still flat to his useless eyes‚ the land slowly rose‚ so that in good time an orchard of mangos surrounded them on both sides. Excellent. This was a sort of terrain Tink was very familiar with. The digging this time was not much more work‚ though they made the pits deeper. Another twelve. That ought to be enough. Again he and Raghu traded with the sisters. But the prisoner had been flirting with the girls‚ and he sulked‚ unhappy at the change. “What’s your name?” Tink asked. If he could‚ he would learn from the guard himself how best to persuade him to their side permanently. “Zhou Yong-Lei.” Honest pile of rocks. Well‚ one could gain purchase there‚ if one were stubborn. “And of what do you dream‚ Master Zhou?” “I—” “Terrorists! Seize them!” Shouted orders and blinding white beams shattered the orchard’s dark calm. Off of the road poured a clotted flood of frightened-smelling men. BANG! BANG-BANG-BANG! Rifle fire from two different points flew mere handsbreadths from Tink’s face. He fell to embrace the earth‚ catching at Zhou’s clothes to drag him down too and save him. Another explosion and the sudden salt of spilling blood told Tink that he had failed. Sadness. The guard died‚ life leaking soundlessly out of his wounds and into the orchard’s accepting roots. Tink surrendered to the men—they were all men—who had shot him. No chance now to win Zhou over to the right side. Hustled toward the road and back the way they’d come‚ Tink wasted precious time in regret. Only as they left the countryside behind did he begin to return to full function. Coals smoldering in iron baskets flanked the wide stairway leading to the palace’s grand entrance. By their smoky light he saw that the Chen twins still accompanied him‚ though Min-Jun had a dark swelling on her right cheek. Twisting as far as his captor’s grip allowed‚ he made out Raghu’s slumping form at the group’s rear‚ supported between two soldiers. They didn’t climb the stairs. A pair of soldiers at the bottom challenged them in French. Tink had learned a little French from Lisette and the Poet. Only a little‚ and long ago‚ and this version was differently accented. His sister had made a study of the language for diplomatic purposes. Not he. The tones of the challenger’s and the respondent’s voices told him more than the shapes of their words. The challenging man seemed satisfied with the other’s answer‚ but rather than lead them up to the governor’s receiving rooms he took them to a shadowed servants’ entrance near the building’s southwest corner. With a last deep breath of the night air in which Xu Mu flew‚ so near‚ so unreachable‚ he followed his captor’s insistence within. It wasn’t all bad. The lights were far apart‚ but steady and shielded with glass. His vision was restored to utility. They walked to the end of a corridor and turned left. A door on their right would have delivered them to the bamboo scaffolding and stairs up to the roof platform and the aircanoe’s mooring post. But that door was shut‚ and they turned away from it‚ into the palace’s heart. Or if not into its heart‚ if hearts must lodge higher in metaphorical bodies‚ then into its rectum. A small chamber‚ poured concrete for walls‚ no windows‚ square flagstones paving the sloping floor save for a wide‚ shallow hole at its center. Old odors of stale sweat and cold embers and roast—pork? monkey?—fought with the odors they carried with them: the knowing mud and the new blood and the trace scents of gunpowder‚ steel‚ the fat greasing the soldiers’ boots and the laundry soap lingering in their uniforms. The soldier who had hauled Tink into the room flung him across it. He fell on his side. The flagstones soothed him‚ cool against his exposed skin where his short trousers were torn. The Chens landed beside him‚ then Raghu beside Jie-Jun‚ grunting and trying to stand again at once. “Attawndayzeesee.” Wait here. No doubt a joke; the soldiers were all laughing as they left‚ laughing even louder as they locked the door’s rattling lock. No electricity. No light. Tink turned the sponge around inside his shirt so that it shed the brightness fed by his perspiration out onto their surroundings. “They didn’t chain us!” observed Jie-Jun. “Why should they need to?” Raghu asked glumly. “We’ll never escape.” True‚ perhaps. By the smell of things the door out was guarded. The room’s walls stood as stout as such walls could stand; given time they would crumble‚ but for now—the floor? Tink half-rolled‚ half-crawled to the bared earth at the room’s focus. It actually stank—even before he had taken the Spirit Medicine‚ Tink would have noticed its reek of charred wood. His heightened sensitivity to chemicals revealed nastier details: a spatter of urine‚ and small but insistent clots of vomit. And the sweat was reminiscent of grief and fear. These things combined with the faint hints of old roasted meat to tell him why they’d been brought here‚ what they’d been left here for. Torture. He buried his fingers in the sullied soil. As always‚ it lived. But sourly‚ blindly‚ in solitude. To make contact with even a rudimentary core such as they had started growing on the palace grounds would take too long—weeks‚ during which time he’d be unmoving and apparently unconscious. And preferably unobserved. Unlikely. The ceiling? Tink got to his feet and pulled the sponge from his shirt. He raised it high so its soft brightness showed him that yes‚ as he’d sensed‚ there was wood above his head. But wood long dead‚ infused with some decay-retardant poison‚ so that there was no communing with it‚ no way to use it to tell his sister of his whereabouts. The Chens came to kneel beside him‚ eyeing him expectantly. They knew him for a node. “We must simply wait for Bee-Lung to find us‚” he informed them. Eventually she would catch his scent. “She’s bound to come soon.” Tourane‚ Vietnam‚ Aboard Xu Mu to the Palais du Gouverneur Of course both of the cargo baskets were in use right when Bee-Lung needed them. Xu Mu’s loaders had filled them the prior evening‚ doing the heaviest of their labor before the warmth of the day. She hurried to put on the stupid peach silk robe again‚ but by the time she arrived in the hold the industrious workers had already lowered one basket to the platform; the other dangled in midair. Obviously it had gone too far down to be recalled. Breathing as calmly as she could manage‚ Bee-Lung composed herself to stand out of the way‚ a distance from the open hatch. The winch operators unwound the cable with what seemed to her unnecessary deliberateness. Surely the second basket’s journey wouldn’t take too long—the landing platform was no farther away from the gondola’s hold than the bottom of the aircanoe’s envelope was from its top. Yes‚ the gifts of porcelain it contained were delicate‚ but very carefully wrapped. She had delayed sending them down till now to make certain of that. This was her fault. The full basket reached the roof’s level without incident‚ was hooked and hauled into place‚ and at long last the winch line was attached to the emptied basket. Up it came and in she got. “You won’t go alone?” That had in fact been Bee-Lung’s intention. But the question came from Kwangmi—the only woman Tink had voluntarily sought out since his love’s death‚ and the core member who—though she was deemed unnecessary to the sowing mission—would have made them five rather than unlucky four. Bee-Lung ought to overcome her disdain. “Not if you’ll join me.” She climbed into the basket first‚ then held out her hand to help the Korean‚ who despite her name was dark-complexioned. “Shining Beauty” indeed. Trust her brother to find the unorthodox attractive. “Hurry! Quickly!” Ignoring the lurch and sway of the cargo basket’s initial drop‚ Bee-Lung pleaded up through the hatch for the workers to lower them fast‚ faster! Not till they reached the platform did she realize she still held Kwangmi’s hand. Bee-Lung loosened her clenched fingers. A rag-clad loader offered his dirt-smeared arm. She pretended she needed it‚ clung to it‚ and with a false show of age tottered stubbornly away from the bamboo stairway running down the palace’s back‚ dragging the loader and his arm alongside. Kwangmi‚ smart if not conventionally good-looking‚ followed her example. Yesterday’s intelligence— how long it seemed since she’d received the skinny little kitchen maid’s report—said there was a door to the attics on the inner slope of the east wing’s roof. Yes. A short hop onto the regrettably slick tiles—an inadvertent slide halted by Kwangmi’s swift snatch at the peach dress’s collar—a gap in the door’s shutters—she was in. A round window covered in brown paper provided some light‚ but it was in the western wall and not exactly bright. Bee-Lung let the air currents tell her where she was‚ what surrounded her. Mostly empty space. A pile of trunks filled the corner to her immediate left. A velvety cluster of bats hung from the peaked roof’s rafters‚ the white of their feces a stark circle on the attic’s dark floor. Which way down? The bats would not know. Kwangmi entered behind her. “Bar the shutters‚” said Bee-Lung. The sounds of Kwangmi’s searching ended in satisfied mutterings and the knocking of wood on hollow wood. “It’s done‚” she pronounced‚ padding forward on rubber soles. “No one will follow us in. Can you smell where he is?” “Vaguely.” Bee-Lung shook her head. “He’s below us. Quite a distance—” Maybe she should have presented herself formally instead of entering this way. Who knew how many floors lay between her and Tink? Was it too late? Perhaps not. After all‚ only the no-doubt lowly loaders had seen them arrive. Perhaps Kwangmi could be directed to render occult aid if Bee-Lung could find her way to a regular receiving room. There she’d do her best to distract the colonial officials with a petition for their help in solving the mystery of Tink’s disappearance—a mystery Bee-Lung suspected the French themselves of causing. Wherever the exit to the rest of the palace was‚ it would not reveal itself to her if she simply stood in one spot. “Come‚ Kwangmi‚” she commanded‚ walking past. Together they moved through the door in the wall dividing them from the attics’ main area. The new room was wider‚ and higher ceilinged. And emptier. And still so much dust! She saw no nearby windows‚ but there ought to be vents— “CHUHH!” No! Bee-Lung whirled‚ but before she could silence her‚ Kwangmi let out two more loud sneezes: “CHUH! SHH-CHUH!” Then she had her hand over the woman’s disgustingly wet nose and mouth. The sneezing fit stopped. They stood in a ringing quiet. Faint murmurs from the bats in the previous room ruffled its surface. Bee-Lung plunged deep underneath the noiselessness‚ sinking into the slumbering lumber of the building‚ swimming with the pollens floating—floating down? Down! The wood confirmed it‚ and also what she now remembered of the sneezes’ echoes. Removing her hand momentarily from Kwangmi’s face to wipe it on the silk robe‚ which was good at least for this much‚ Bee-Lung brought it back up to pinch the woman’s nostrils shut‚ then drew nose and head low enough that her lips touched Kwangmi’s naked ears. “Follow me to the storey below. But stay hidden. From there go where you detect his scent.” Softly as she could‚ Bee-Lung crept ahead and to the left. These stairs must connect with the set running from kitchen to servants’ quarters. She began her descent‚ then paused. Now she recalled seeing a narrow door in the cramped back passage’s plastering‚ too high to reach without a stepladder. Would she hurt herself? Kwangmi would be fine. And so would Bee-Lung; she’d have to be. Pulling free a few pins‚ she disarranged her hair. She rubbed her eyes red and lamented that the steps on which she stood seemed to have been swept clean. But doubtless the robe’s hem had g

News Jurassic Park Welcome to Even More Jurassic Park: New Jurassic World Movie in the Works at Universal The latest from the Jurassic-verse project is being written by the same scribe who penned the very first films in the ’90s. By Vanessa Armstrong | Published on January 22‚ 2024 icon-comment 0 Share New Share Twitter Facebook Pinterest RSS Feed More From David Koepp See All Posts News Academy Awards Here Are the Genre Films That Scored 2024 Oscar Nominations By Vanessa Armstrong January 23‚ 2024 News sci-fi tv Traveling to Outer Space Will Mess Up Your Mind‚ According to Constellation Trailer By Vanessa Armstrong January 22‚ 2024 News Fountain of Youth Film Picks Up Natalie Portman‚ John Krasinski and Eiza González By Vanessa Armstrong January 19‚ 2024 Featured Essays Star Wars Rebooting Star Wars Is a Great Idea‚ Actually By Charlie Jane Anders January 23‚ 2024 Comment 3 icon-left-caret Caret See All Posts More dinosaurs are coming our way‚ whether we want them to or not!  A new Jurassic World movie is in the works‚ though this time the writer of the original film and its direct sequel is coming back to pen the script. The Hollywood Reporter broke the news that a new Jurassic World feature was in the works‚ with a script written by David Keopp‚ who wrote 1993’s Jurassic Park as well as 1997’s Jurassic Park: The Lost World.  The story will reportedly launch a “new Jurassic era” at Universal Pictures‚ which suggests that neither the stars from the recent films—Chris Pratt and Bryce Dallas Howard—as well as the OG cast members—Sam Neill‚ Laura Dern‚ and Jeff Goldblum—will be making any appearances. Steven Spielberg is still involved as a producer via Amblin Entertainment‚ as is Frank Marshall‚ who produced the recent Jurassic World trilogy. Marshall‚ in fact‚ warned us that more dinos were coming our way. “I think that Dominion‘s going to wrap up this trilogy‚ but we’re not resting on our laurels‚” Marshall said in a January 2022 interview. “We’re going to sit down‚ and we’re going to see what the future is. We have that wonderful series‚ Camp Cretaceous‚ on Netflix. We obviously want to make quality‚ good movies with great storytelling‚ great writers and directors‚ but we’re definitely looking to do more in the Jurassic world.” As Marshall predicted‚ no laurels‚ it seems‚ were sat on. There’s no director on board yet‚ much less a cast‚ though apparently the script is far enough along that folks over at Universal think a 2025 release date may happen. Whenever the movie comes out‚ it’s clear that dinosaurs will continue to rule the world for a while‚ at least if Universal has anything to say about it. [end-mark] The post Welcome to Even More Jurassic Park: New <;i>;Jurassic World<;/i>; Movie in the Works at Universal appeared first on Reactor.

News sci-fi tv Traveling to Outer Space Will Mess Up Your Mind‚ According to Constellation Trailer Watch Noomi Rapace as an astronaut who returns from space only to find her life significantly altered from the one she left behind. By Vanessa Armstrong | Published on January 22‚ 2024 icon-comment 0 Share New Share Twitter Facebook Pinterest RSS Feed Pause Play There’s a sci-fi “conspiracy-based psychological thriller” coming to Apple TV+‚ and the trailer for the limited series strongly suggests that space travel will completely and utterly f*** you up. The limited series stars Noomi Rapace (Prometheus‚ The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo) and Jonathan Banks (Breaking Bad‚ Better Call Saul)‚ and centers around an astronaut named Jo who comes home and finds key aspects of her life have changed. She now‚ for example‚ has a piano even though she didn’t have one before and has not trained to play one. More chillingly‚ her daughter doesn’t seem to be the daughter she left‚ suggesting that Jo launched off one version of Earth and crash-landed in an alternate reality. Here’s the official synopsis: Constellation stars Rapace as Jo—an astronaut who returns to Earth after a disaster in space—only to discover that key pieces of her life seem to be missing. The action-packed space adventure is an exploration of the dark edges of human psychology‚ and one woman’s desperate quest to expose the truth about the hidden history of space travel and recover all that she has lost. In addition to Rapace and Banks‚ Constellation stars James D’Arcy (Agent Carter‚ Oppenheimer)‚ Julian Looman (Emily in Paris)‚ William Catlett (A Thousand and One)‚ Barbara Sukowa (Voyager)‚ and Rosie and Davina Coleman as Alice. The series was created and written by Peter Harness (Wallander‚ The War of the Worlds) and has episodes directed by Michelle MacLaren (Shining Girls‚ Breaking Bad)‚ Oliver Hirschbiegel (Downfall)‚ and Joseph Cedar (Footnote). Constellation will premiere on Apple TV+ on February 21‚ 2024 with the first three episodes‚ followed by one episode weekly‚ every Wednesday through March 27‚ 2024. [end-mark] The post Traveling to Outer Space Will Mess Up Your Mind‚ According to <;i>;Constellation<;/i>; Trailer appeared first on Reactor.

News Reactor Welcome to Reactor! Here’s Where Everything Went and How to Use It Welcome to Costco. I love you. By Chris Lough | Published on January 23‚ 2024 icon-comment 0 Share New Share Twitter Facebook Pinterest RSS Feed Reactor lives! If you’re reading this‚ it means the redesigned and renamed Reactor magazine site (formerly Tor.com) is now live and ready to face the hideous light of judgment for you to use and read. Things have shifted during travel–mostly on purpose–so we’ve assembled a quick guide on how to relocate your favorite writers‚ columns‚ and topics. Note: These directions are for the desktop version of the website‚ but the icons displayed are the same on the mobile version. If you just want to report a bug or error‚ you can use this form. Creating And Updating Your Account &; Favorites Where do I login or sign up? Select the circle icon at the top right of the homepage (pictured here). Your username and password are the same as they were on Tor.com. You can also login at the new comment field within any article that has comments open. How do I favorite/bookmark a writer I like‚ an article‚ a column‚ etc.? If something can be bookmarked and saved to your user account‚ it will have a white flag-shaped icon (pictured above). Just click that and it should fill in. If a bookmark symbol is already filled in‚ that means you already bookmarked it! Where do I see all my bookmarks? They’re within your user account page. Click the circle icon on the top right of the homepage or‚ if you’re already logged in‚ you can click the bookmark flag on the top right of the homepage to go directly to them. All my favorites from Tor.com are gone! These proved harder to liberate from Tor.com than we expected‚ but they should be back into everyone’s user accounts by February. Commenting on Reactor No time to read the article‚ I must comment! Jump straight to comments by clicking the word bubble icon at the top of an article (pictured here) or by the article’s published date on the homepage. How do I comment? This one is pretty straightforward. You can input your name and email and go through the CAPTCHA or login to your Reactor account to add a new comment. OH MY GOD I CAN REPLY TO OTHER COMMENTS NOW Yes! We took a bold step into the year 2009 and changed our comments from a single thread to nested. (For newer users‚ if you see old comments that start with @# that is how we used to have to reply to other commenters.) How do I flag an inappropriate comment? Apologies for putting you on blast like this‚ noblehunter. For the record‚ this was not an inappropriate comment. Just select the flag icon in the comment itself. You can also give a comment a thumbs up if you really love it. And if you really want to confuse us‚ you can do both. I made a comment but it’s not appearing. Some articles will hold comments until the moderator team can approve them. Tends to happen a lot on the weekends so we can go touch grass. Alternately‚ you may have run up against our Moderation Policy. I made a comment on this older article but now it’s gone! Comments on Tor.com from October 2023 to January 2024 are proving trickier to import into Reactor. They’ll get here eventually‚ but it may take a few days. Where To Find Everything Where is my favorite reread/rewatch/series? They’re called “Columns” now and you can get to them through main navigation or through the “Latest Columns” carousel at the top of the homepage. Right now‚ only currently active and recently completed Columns appear in the “Columns” page. We’ll be adding more of our completed Columns (rereads/rewatches/themes/etc.) over the course of February. They’re not gone. We just need a bit more time to make them navigable on the new site. Where is my favorite short story‚ poem‚ book excerpt/piece of fiction? Under the “Fiction” menu in main navigation.  Where is my favorite author/writer? If you see their byline anywhere on the site‚ click their name and you’ll be taken to their profile‚ which contains everything they’ve ever written on Reactor (formerly Tor.com). Alternately‚ you can manually find them by typing out “www.reactormag.com/author/firstname-lastname”. You can also search for them alphabetically in the “Authors” link in the footer of the site. Where is my favorite topic/interest/subject to read about? It might be in the “Interests” menu in the main navigation! If not‚ you can click on the tag when you see it in an article or manually type “www.reactormag.com/tag/space-horse-stories” or whatever it is you’re into. No judgments. Keep it clean. Where is just ONE PAGE where everything is listed in ONE PLACE in the order it was published‚ like you used to do? Just click “Latest” in the main navigation. Or go to the “All Articles” section at the bottom of the homepage. What is “Books”‚ or “Movies &; TV”‚ or “Featured Essays”? It means the articles in those sections are about books‚ movies &; TV‚ or are feature essays/thinkpieces that the writer worked really hard on and which no longer get pushed off the site after only a day! New sections will appear and disappear as time goes by‚ depending on how weird we’re feeling that day. Where’d the RSS feed go? It will return soon and we will let you know! We love it‚ too. Where did your social media accounts go? Here!  Random Stuff Uh‚ what happened here? Didn’t you used to be Tor.com? “You’ve redecorated. I don’t like it.” Screencap: BBC. We did! It’s the same people and same fiction and articles‚ but a new site and a new name. We answer most of everyone’s questions about it here. Why does your website ask if I’m 13-15 years-old? It’s an off-putting thing we have been mandated to do by our parent company in order to comply with recent updates to the California Consumer Privacy Act. We’re very sorry about it. Please just click it away and it shouldn’t appear again. I have an idea for an article. Head over to our Submissions Guidelines. Reactor is a paying outlet and accepts unsolicited article pitches. Is the Tordotcom Publishing book imprint and/or Tor Books changing its name? No! I FOUND A BUG. Report it through this form. [end-mark] More From Reactor See All Posts News Reactor Tor.com To Become Reactor‚ Debut New Site‚ On January 23rd By Tor.com January 9‚ 2024 Comment 0 News Reactor Answering Your Questions About Tor.com’s Change to Reactor By Tor.com January 11‚ 2024 Comment 3 Blog internships Apply For the Tor Books Fall 2020 Virtual Internship Program By Tor.com July 23‚ 2020 Featured Essays Best of 2019 Some of the Best Articles on Tor.com in 2019 By Tor.com December 2‚ 2019 Comment 5 icon-left-caret Caret See All Posts The post Welcome to Reactor! Here’s Where Everything Went and How to Use It appeared first on Reactor.