Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts

Monday, September 14, 2026

Eve Did Nothing Wrong

           Eve Did Nothing Wrong

 

Eve did nothing wrong. The Apple gave knowledge of good and evil; that means moral choice, which means free will. Eve chose to choose. She grew up! Adam followed her, for love. If free will and love are wrong, then there is no right, and there is no wrong. But I say there is, and Eve did the right thing.

          Even Yahweh looks good, in this reading of the legend. The breeding pair had attained mental and sexual maturity, so he released them into the wild. That’s competent wildlife management.

          Eve did nothing wrong, and she was not punished. She and Adam wanted to know what was good about the world, and what was evil, so Yahweh told them personally. Eve, sex will frighten you. Adam, you’ve got to work for a living. Both of you, you’re going to die. That was the bad news. The good news was: see that gate over there? It’s open now! You’re free to go!

          And as for Eve’s suffering: that’s not a sign of sin, that’s a sign of sainthood. Ask any mother if mothers are saints. The polite ones will smile and lie; but watch out, the honest ones might give you an earful.

          So blessed be Saint Eve, the Mother of Choice!

Tuesday, September 8, 2026

Rivendell on Trantor

       Rivendell on Trantor

 

            Call a settlement of limited size but of great duration a “Time colony”, or a “Rivendell”; and call a civilization of great size but of limited duration a “Space civilization”, or a “Trantor”. The names “Rivendell” and “Trantor” refer to, respectively, the Elvish town in J.R.R. Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings” trilogy; and to the planet-spanning galactic capital city in Isaac Asimov’s “Foundation” trilogy .

            I propose this census:

            Rivendell: a million people, for a million generations.

            Trantor: a billion people, for a thousand generations.

            The first is a fair-sized colony, lasting for tens of megayears, a longish species lifetime. So this is a Local Range; the Home of a Kind. The second is a world civilization, lasting for tens of kiloyears, about the length of history. This is a World Culture with a History.

            Rivendell colonizes time, and Trantor colonizes space.

            To keep Rivendell fresh, let’s make it a college town, home of Rivendell University, in its new location. They had to leave the old place and build a new campus here, due to mega-volcano eruption. They’ve still settling in, it’s been only 1.7 million years. But despite Rivendell’s traditionalism, it manages to keep up with the times; for they accept students from all across space, especially Trantor. How’s that for a happening place?

            And as for Trantor… there is no boredom on Trantor, and no shortage of rebels. Trantor is always up to something big; a war, a revolution, a reformation, a renaissance; political decay, cultural flowering, religious crises and scientific breakthroughs; and whatever Trantor does, it does it.

            Trantor never sleeps. So of course people will want to go to Rivendell  just for a bit of rest. But sorry, no uninvited visitors.

            So which would you prefer? Rivendell or Trantor? Rivendell is at least a somewhat happening place; and Trantor has respectable longevity chops; and it’s a fair trade-off. The elvish city is to the techno-world as deep time is to history.

            I see an SF novel in this, with a single world inhabited by both a Trantor and a Rivendell. (Almost everywhere, from Trantor’s point of view; temporarily, from Rivendell’s.) To Trantor,  a thousand years is a long time; to Rivendell, a thousand people is a big crowd.

            Rivendell has changed locations several times, to keep up with the geography. There are abandoned fossil Rivendells, which other peoples dug up for treasure and technology; notably the precursors to the Trantor world-civilization. The word “Trantor”, to the Trantorians, means the name of their planet; and also mankind; and also ‘culture’, ‘peace’, ‘order’, and many other soothing ideals; with predictable tragicomic consequences.

            A spacelike civilization meets a timelike civilization; temporarily, locally; yet everyone in Trantor is affected by Rivendell, all over the planet; and Rivendell never forgot Trantor, even after mountains wore down.

            For one thing, they stole a lot of tech from each other. There may even be a tendency for Trantor to re-create another Rivendell, on a distant world; and a reciprocal tendency for Rivendell to recreate another Trantor, in the distant future.

            Rivendell’s rebels will leave, and will either vanish into obscurity, or find a Trantor to influence. Rivendell’s influence on galactic culture is slow but cumulative; a trickle of exiled geniuses; Trantor’s influence is all at once.

            Perhaps a rebel Rivendellian will leave, mix with Trantor society, collect a cadre of likeminded malcontents, and then leave for a distant world, to found New Rivendell. (Where they will offer modern boredom!)

            Trantor’s rebels will go out, in waves after waves, each to form their own utopian Rivendells. Some of those Rivendells will remain static until they go extinct, others will mutate into new Trantors.

            Rivendell is to Trantor as spore is to redwood.


Tuesday, September 1, 2026

Eve Did Nothing Wrong

           Eve Did Nothing Wrong

 

Eve did nothing wrong. The Apple gave knowledge of good and evil; that means moral choice, which means free will. Eve chose to choose. She grew up! Adam followed her, for love. If free will and love are wrong, then there is no right, and there is no wrong. But I say there is, and Eve did the right thing.

          Even Yahweh looks good, in this reading of the legend. The breeding pair had attained mental and sexual maturity, so he released them into the wild. That’s competent wildlife management.

          Eve did nothing wrong, and she was not punished. She and Adam wanted to know what was good about the world, and what was evil, so Yahweh told them personally. Eve, sex will frighten you. Adam, you’ve got to work for a living. Both of you, you’re going to die. That was the bad news. The good news was: see that gate over there? It’s open now! You’re free to go!

          And as for Eve’s suffering: that’s not a sign of sin, that’s a sign of sainthood. Ask any mother if mothers are saints. The polite ones will smile and lie; but watch out, the honest ones might give you an earful.

          So blessed be Saint Eve, the Mother of Choice!

Thursday, August 27, 2026

Inoculating my Daughter

          Inoculating my Daughter

 

I once had the honor of giving my daughter Hannah an inoculation against a common teenage ailment. I refer to Objectivism; for she asked me about Ayn Rand, and I gave her my informed opinion.

Specifically I told Hannah about the infamous railroad scene in “Atlas Shrugged”. I detailed the set-up; the dangerous tunnel, the idiotic bureaucrat’s suicidal demand, the chain of buck-passing, the fatal go-ahead, the complaisent workers, the train’s doom... all of which I described with admiration for Rand’s meticulousness (for once not tiresome) and her passion. A death machine of incompetence and spinelessness, clickety-clicking right there before your eyes! A masterpiece of eldritch horror! That scene was this close to Literature!

But the moment the train entered the tunnel, her writing all went horribly wrong! For Rand then focused on the passengers; a risky move if you do it wrong, and she did. For what if (I asked Hannah) that train had been full of good people? Or perhaps even a few of them super-virtuous by Rand’s elitist Objectivist standards? For them to die alongside the idiot bureaucrat would been supreme injustice; a raw red wound, an affront against humanity! What if Rand had raged and wailed against the sick cruelty of the idiot world? That (I told Hannah) would have been writing!

But no! By the way Rand told it, everyone on the train was an idiot moocher, as bad as the bureaucrat, and so everyone got what they deserved! (Hannah rolled her eyes upon hearing this.) Instant justice, automatic karma, all’s well with the world! Rand got that close to Literature, but at the last moment she turned it into Propaganda!

The trainwreck scene was itself a trainwreck!  And that (I told Hannah) is Ayn Rand.

Monday, July 20, 2026

Boy Topologist’s Fuzzy Boundary

Boy Topologist’s Fuzzy Boundary

 

A long time ago, when I was a young lad, I had a strange encounter with topology. I was three whole blocks away from home, at the corner of Center and Walnut streets. There was a signpost at the corner; the sign read: “WABAN  - A Village Of Newton”. I hadn’t been anywhere in Waban yet, so I was curious. A village? Were there thatched huts? I saw none. Maybe if I crossed the border and looked a little closer, I could see them. I approached the sign… and hesitated.

I stood at the border between Newton and Waban. Was it any different in Waban? If so, what happens if you have one foot in Newton and one in Waban? Would you feel the boundary? Would it hurt?

I hesitated… then boldly planted one foot in Waban and one in Newton. The boundary went straight through my body. I closed my eyes and concentrated…

          … and didn’t feel a thing. I was just standing there, splayfooted. Spacetime in Waban was no different from spacetime in Newton.

          So I opened my eyes, and have been skeptical about political boundaries ever since.

          (And no, there are no thatched huts in Waban!)

 

 

Thursday, July 16, 2026

Boy Scientist’s Dud Logic Bomb

             Boy Scientist’s Dud Logic Bomb

 

         A long time ago, when I was a young lad, I had a strange encounter with logic. I got a Fisher-Price Science kit for my tenth birthday; it had batteries and wires and lights and toggles and keys and magnetic relays. The instructions showed how to make AND gates, and OR gates, and NOT gates; I made them all. With the AND gate the light went on only if both keys were pressed; with the OR gate the light went on when either key was pressed; and if you wire the magnetic relay in reverse, the light goes on only if you don’t press the key.

          Seventeen days before my tenth birthday, I had seen a Star Trek show. In it, Captain Kirk defeated an evil robot by feeding it a logic paradox. Kirk called Harvey Mudd a liar, and Harvey Mudd agreed. Harvey Mudd told the robot, “I am lying”. The robot fell into a yes-but-no wobble, then shorted out in a cloud of smoke.

I remembered that show and thought, “Cool! Can I do the same thing?” It seemed easy enough; wire a magnetic relay to turn on when it’s off, and off when it’s on. A loop of wire, with a twist; what could be easier? I wired in a battery, and a light, and – just to be safe – a key, so the whole circuit was activated only when the key’s pressed down.

          For that burnt-out robot worried me. How would the relay react to being forced to be in two places at once? Would it break? Would it short out in a cloud of smoke? Would it explode?

          I vowed to leap away if something went wrong; but there were worse possibilities. Maybe the confused relay would tear a hole in the space-time continuum, one that monsters could get through. Maybe a single paradox would destroy the Universe… for I had read those science-fiction stories, too!

I hesitated over my doomsday device… then I figured that other kids must have tried the same experiment before; so it must be safe.

I pressed the key… and the relay buzzed!

I let go of the key; the buzzing stopped. I leaned in close and pressed the key. The relay buzzed; the armature was a blur; a blue-white spark strobed at the contact; the light was half-lit.

Ah, Science! All these effects were new to me, unexpected, yet obvious in retrospect. I have based much of my paradox-logic research upon this experimental observation. The buzz, the blur, the strobing, the half-lighting… and above all the fact that it didn’t explode.

For as you can see, I took a big risk for Science! And I did so without consulting anyone! I didn’t know that a paradox-circuit wouldn’t destroy the Universe; I just figured that it probably wouldn’t. So I went ahead anyhow; but it all turned out OK, because here we are.

          How reckless of me! In my defense I plead the folly of youth. So there you have it: as a boy I thought I invented a Doomsday Device, but instead it was just a Buzzer!

Tuesday, July 14, 2026

Super-Democracy

Super-Democracy

 

Once upon a time, Working Joe conspired with Dr. Diablo to overthrow the reign of the superheroes. They worked together for different reasons; Dr. Diablo because he was a supervillain, Working Joe because he was neither hero nor villain, just super.

          Working Joe gave Dr. Diablo cheek swabs, blood samples and stool samples, and was scanned by ultrasound, X-rays, neutrinos and eloptic radiation. Between Dr. Diablo’s theorizing and Working Joe’s experience, they figured out the nature of superpower. It turned out to be a simple matter of electron psychology, replicable by adeledicnandar technology. With a morphogenetic transmogrifier, anybody could achieve, or even surpass, the powers of the superheroes.

          Dr. Diablo and Working Joe met with Big Boss to ask for a loan, to develop, test, and mass-produce cheap consumer transmogrifier. Big Boss seized upon this opportunity for super-profit.

          The superheroes and the other supervillains got wind of this, and interrupted their endless destructive fighting, to oppose such crass commercialism. Only they, the genetic elite, should wield superpowers, not the common folk.

They joined forces to destroy the Transmogrifier Corporation; but in the end they were defeated by Big Boss’s super-money, Working Joe’s super-productivity, and Dr. Diablo’s super-cunning.

          Nowadays everybody in Metroville is super, so nobody is.

 

Moral: Power to the People!

 

Monday, July 13, 2026

Wonderful

          Wonderful

 

          Once upon a time, Working Joe was walking down the street, minding his own business, when suddenly –

          ZOT!

– there was a bolt from the blue, and Working Joe was face-to-face with a Superhero.

The Superhero said, “Hi there! I’m Captain Wonderful!”

Working Joe said, “How are you, Captain?”

“Wonderful!” said the Superhero. He flexed his biceps. “I love my job, my life and myself!”

Working Joe asked Captain Wonderful, “What is your job?”

Captain Wonderful said, “I go around the world, giving people a diabolically subtle test to determine which ones are good, and which ones are ee-vil!”

“And when people are good?”

“I say they pass!”

“And when people are evil?”

“I pummel them with my fists!”

“Why, that’s terrible!”

“You pass!”

ZOT!

And Captain Wonderful was gone.

 

 

Moral: This moral is false.

 

Friday, July 10, 2026

The Price

            The Price

 

            Once upon a time, Big Boss frowned. Hands on hips, he glared upwards at the inert bulk of Turboencabulator #7. He sucked on his stogie. He blew out a cloud of smoke. He grumbled, “I’ve got no choice. Call Working Joe!”

            Big Boss’s minion Lackey texted Working Joe, and Working Joe flew right over. When he landed, Big Boss said, “Turboencabulator #7 broke in the super-fight last Tuesday. Can you fix it?”

            Working Joe inspected Turboencabulator #7. He used his vision, his X-ray vision, and his sonar. He scratched his head. Then he opened a flap on his utility belt and took out a hammer no bigger than his thumb. He got onto his knees, he crawled to the lower left rear corner of the huge machine, and he tapped it once with the tiny hammer.

            Instantly Turboencabulator #7 roared back into full operation. Working Joe crawled out, stood up, put away the hammer and said, “It’ll work fine now.”

            “Thank you, Working Joe. How can I ever repay you?”

            Working Joe said, “Easily,” and he handed over a bill.

            Big Boss read the bill and his face turned red. “A hundred thousand and one dollars?” he bellowed. “But you just tapped it once with a tiny hammer! A hundred thousand dollars for that?!”

            Working Joe said, “No. Only one dollar for tapping it with a tiny hammer. A hundred thousand dollars for knowing where to tap it.”

            Moral: Knowledge is the best merchandise.

Thursday, July 9, 2026

Supply and Demand

             Supply and Demand

 

Big Boss and Working Joe were touring a car factory, to inspect a new line of welding robots. 

Big Boss joked, “You wondering how you’re going to get them to join the union?” 

Working Joe replied, “No, I’m wondering how you’re going to get them to buy cars.” 
 


         
Moral: Give to get.

 

 

 

Wednesday, July 8, 2026

Super-Retort

             Super-Retort

 

            Once upon a time, Captain Blue was flying towards Big Boss’s mansion, to attend a big dinner-party. He looked down and he saw Working Joe, standing in a muddy ditch, using his heat-vision to weld a sewer line; for Working Joe needed the money.

             Captain Blue called down from the sky, “Poor Working Joe! If only he knew how to flatter Big Boss, then he wouldn’t have to weld sewer lines!”

             Working Joe replied to the sky, “Poor Captain Blue! If only he knew how to weld sewer lines, then he wouldn’t have to flatter Big Boss!”

 

          Moral:  Always be ready to speak your mind, and a base man will avoid you.

 

Tuesday, July 7, 2026

Civic Fixture

             Civic Fixture

 

             Menace, one of the stupider supervillains, threatened Working Joe’s family. Working Joe went to Captain Blue for help, but Captain Blue said “Give up your day job, and come with me to fight crime.”

             Working Joe said, “I’m no trust-fund baby like you, I got a wife and kids, I gotta work for a living.”

             So Working Joe then went to Big Boss. He said, “I’m not asking you for anything, I’m just telling you I can’t work under these conditions, and I’m thinking of leaving town.”

             Big Boss said, “No, stay. Don’t worry about that moron. I’ll take care of him.”

             Working Joe said, “So what do I owe you?”

             “Nuthin’. You worth plenty as is.”

             And what do you know, the very next day it was Menace who suddenly left town.

 

          Moral: Follow the money.