Tag Archives: Cyan

125. Let’s Build an Ecosystem – 1

Over in Backfile, you will find an eleven part document called How to Build a Culture, inspired by Poul Anderson’s How to Build a Planet.

I could also write a paper called How to Build an Ecosystem, but who needs to read all that. A couple of posts here should cover the subject, without boredom or overload.

The fact is, simply peppering your planet with a few well chosen and deeply odd critters is enough in most cases. Andre Norton did it all the time, and it worked for her. The frawns and yoris on Arzor are simply transmogrified bighorn sheep and alligators, but so what? They provide plot points and local color, and that is all that is asked of them. Marion Zimmer Bradley gave us a mammalian snake, a hyper-weasel, and an intelligent dinosaur who sent out pheromone soaked calling cards in Hunters of the Red Moon. What more could you want? In Jandrax, showing up now in Serial, my native animals were distinctive, but most were mammalian, as one would expect from ice age migrators.

When I wrote Cyan, I faced a different situation. My crew was set down on an alien planet for one year, with the task of coming to understand its weather, geology, and ecology in order to prepare for colonization. They were all scientists, so their actions and conversations called for a deeper understanding of their new world than any other kind of science fiction novel would have required. Actually, that challenge was half the fun.

When I began Cyan, I had been studying ecology for about twenty years, starting back when I had to explain what the word meant. I later came to understand the essence of Earth’s taxonomy in the most rigorous possible way – I had had to condense it to a level which middle school students could understand without dying of boredom.

Scientists should forgive the following chart and paragraph.taxon

Drop a salmon egg on the gunwale of your canoe and it will dry out in minutes. A chicken or turtle egg would survive the same treatment. This is the meaning of amniote egg (although there are other, competing meanings). Creatures who lack them, must lay their eggs in water. The rest of the chart should be clear, although simplified. For example, birds have scales on their legs as well as feathers elsewhere, and I skipped Dinosauria altogether.

Now pull up a chair and lets build Cyanian ecology. It needs to be wierd but recognizable – that’s the key to all science fiction invention. We also need restraint. You can only explain so much to your reader without losing them, and beyond a certain point, your backstory is wasted effort.

Come back tomorrow and we’ll dive more deeply into Cyanian ecology.

114. Einstein Got It Wrong

As I said in the first post of this blog, way back in August, we are the last generation of writers who will have the privilege of putting the planets which suit our stories around nearby stars. It’s already too late for our solar system. Heinlein could not write Stranger In a Strange Land today; in fact, he eventually had to shift it to another timeline where Martians with their canals and cities still exist.

Answer this: if you read stories from the 60s and 70s, how many of them were set on planets around Alpha Centauri? Dozens, at least. Soon scientists will know what Alpha Centauri’s actual planets look like, and that party will be over.

The slowing of time at relativistic speeds – Heinlein got a lot of mileage out of that in Time For the Stars, as have many other authors. But not so much lately; these days, everything seems to move at warp speed.

The next real-world century will be exciting, but science fiction has largely moved on to the far future. Cyan, due out soon as an e-book from EDGE, explores that near future.

*****

Standard Year 594
Anno Domini 2086
from the Log of the Starship Darwin,
en route to Procyon system,
S.Y. 594, Day 167 (corrected),
entry by Stephan Andrax, Captain

Einstein got it wrong.  He took Newton’s tidy world and turned it inside out, ousted common sense from physics, and gave us the bomb, bent light, and all the rest.  So what?

The speed of light is not the central fact of the universe.  I am.  Not, “I, Stephan Andrax, am the center of the universe.”  The I which speaks when any one of us utters an ultimate truth . . .

I hunger.

I hurt.

I love.

I am.

That I is the center. Everything else is fantasy.

There are two chronometers on the bulkhead. One forges forward at the speed of Everyday, ticking off seconds and minutes and hours and days that make sense to the body and soul. The other races. Seconds flitter by. A new day is born every three hours and twenty-two minutes. Einstein told us this would happen, a century and a half ago; when an object approaches the speed of light, time slows down.

Beside the chronometers is a viewport and beyond it are dopplered stars which sweep through my field of vision as the ship spins. We are nearly six years into our journey. Half way through our journey. Yet, for me, only a year and a half have passed.

And through all the years and hours of our journey, the smaller, fleeter chronometer will rush ahead at Earthtime while our time is slowed. All those I knew and loved, except my companions here on the Darwin, are aging seven times faster than I am. When we return, my agemates could be my parents, and my parents will be dead.

The mind perceives what the heart cannot comprehend.