Asimov's SF, January 2007

by Dell Magazine Authors

  “For the Chinese in game-playing factories like these,” the Times story says, “it is not all fun and games. These workers have strict quotas and are supervised by bosses who equip them with computers, software, and Internet connections.... By some estimate there are well over a hundred thousand people working in China as full-time gamers, toiling away in dark Internet cafes, abandoned warehouses, small offices, and private homes. Many of the players here actually make less than a quarter an hour, but they often get room, board, and free computer-game play in these ‘virtual sweatshops.'” One of them, a twenty-three-year-old player interviewed by the Times, says he makes about two hundred and fifty dollars a month at it, which he regards as pretty good pay, by Chinese standards. Of course, he works a seven-day week, twelve hours a day; but the upside is that he puts in all those hours sitting at a keyboard playing computer games instead of mining coal or assembling television sets or hauling heavy trays as a waiter in the local noodle house.

  Significant amounts of money are involved here. It's estimated that one hundred million people worldwide log on to play these games each month, and evidently a lot of them are fattening their virtual prestige by purchasing their superwizardhood on the black market. This is, of course, unfair to the players who have acquired the Mask of Invisibility or the All-Conquering Lance the hard way, putting in all those sweaty hours squinting into their screens, and the games-makers are trying to shut down the farmers whenever they can find them. But finding them isn't easy and there isn't any simple way for one player to discover that someone else in his game is cheating.

  I find the emergence of this kind of geeky cheating very sad. The real pleasure of playing these games, I would think, ought to be derived from mastering the game and deploying your accumulated skills in rising to wizardly greatness, not in attaining instant self-aggrandizement by pulling out your Visa and buying some magical gizmo for your game avatar that you haven't earned according to the rules. How can you face yourself, you who have bought your way into the Tower of Supreme Omnipotence, when you know that you got there not by battling monster after monster through level after level, but merely by forking over eighty bucks for a pile of virtual doubloons that some unknown Chinese kid in a far-off sweatshop won for you? What's to be proud of in that? Where's the fun in cutting a deal with a shaman-for-hire to do all the heavy lifting? What sort of incremental increase in self-esteem does that sort of deal bring? And what do you think J.R.R. Tolkien would say if he heard that Ara-gorn's sword or even the One Ring itself were for sale to the highest bidder on eBay?

  Not only isn't it sporting, guys, I don't see where there can be much satisfaction in it. Cheating at a computer game is on a par with cheating at solitaire: who are you fooling?

  And it's a troublesome cultural development. If the notion of buying virtual glory were to spread to other fields, we'd soon be hearing about the tournament chess player who can buy an instant checkmate, or the professional baseball player who, for a sufficient outlay of cash, is given a certificate declaring that he has broken Barry Bonds’ home-run record, or the tone-deaf singer who purchases a starring role at the Metropolitan Opera House. (Or, closer to home, the science fiction writer who buys a Hugo or a Nebula online.) But nobody is likely to do such things, because everyone would see what a hollow triumph is thereby gained. Paying hard cash to become an instant Aragorn seems just as dumb to me. Of course, I've never experienced the thrills of game-playing. But I like to think that if I were a gamer, I'd feel abashed, not proud at all, if I had tossed away a few hundred real-world simoleons for the empty thrill of ascending the Throne of Unconquerable Might without having had to waste all that time working my way up through the ranks.

  Copyright © 2006 Robert Silverberg

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  On the Net: Secrets of the Webmasters (Part Two)

  by James Patrick Kelly

  fanzines

  You may recall that in the last installment, before profiling Locus Online —locusmag.com— Webmaster Mark Kelly, I began with a discourse on social capital. Briefly, social capital is the sense of belonging that binds a community together; it requires intense social interactions that build trust and shared values. I contend that our websites, our cons, our discussion groups and mailing lists are all expressions of just such an intense social interaction, and that SF has a vast reserve of social capital.

  Of course, this column is called “On the Net,” but I would be remiss were I not to point out that much of our social capital was created not by websites but by print fanzines. Indeed, although technology has had a profound effect on fannish communication—now it's cheaper, faster, more interactive, and can reach just about anyone, anywhere—our websites retain much in common with their print progenitors.

  I can't go into a complete history of fanzines, which have been around since the 1930s. The word “fanzine” was actually coined by Russ Chauvenet —en.wikipedia.org/wiki/RussChauvenet— in 1941. Many of SF's greatest professional writers got their starts in fanzines, for instance Damon Knight —en.wiki pedia.org/wiki/DamonKnight—, Harlan Ellison —harlanellison. com—, Robert Silverberg —majipoor.com—, and Frederik Pohl —members.tripod.com/templetongate/pohl.htm—, to name just four who went on to become SFWA Grandmasters. But the vast majority of fanzine writers and editors are content to express their likes and dislikes, their passions and quirks without any expectation other than that other fans will read and respond.

  The place to start any research into fan activity is the FANAC Fan History Project —fanac.org—, where you can find links to some of the older printzines that have been translated to the web. Another great resource is eFanzines.com, science fiction fanzines on-line —efanzines.com—. Fanzine writers, editors, and readers have gathered every year since 1984 at a convention called Corflu —corflu.org—. Ever since 1955, the World Science Fiction Society —world con.org— has given a Hugo for Best Fanzine —en.wikipedia.org/wiki /HugoAwardforBestFanzine—. And in 2004, history was made when, for the first time, the fanzine Hugo went to a ‘zine that was primarily distributed electronically: Cheryl Morgan's Emerald City —emcit.com—. And while many wonderful print fan-zines continue to be published every month, there is no question that fans have been turning from print to the web in greater and greater numbers since the turn of the century. Here are profiles of two more of the most influential webmasters writing today.

  * * * *

  bestsf.net

  Mark Watson was born in 1960 in Colchester —colchester.net—, England's oldest recorded town. (See the Roman Castle remains! Visit the Norman keep! Tour the English Civil War battle site!) He got a degree in librarianship, and from 1980 to the mid-nineties he was a traditional librarian. He got on the pre-web internet in 1993 and has since moved to a career in Knowledge Management. His earliest encounters with SF were the Hugh Walters —www.wessex.clara.net/walters— series, before coming upon Edgar Rice Burroughs, Isaac Asimov, and Robert A. Heinlein in his early teens. He wrote reams of SF as a teen but then it simply dried up overnight. Mark writes that “Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll in my late teens meant less time on SF, which picked up a bit in my mid-twenties, but would have stayed dormant except for me chancing upon a late 1980s Gardner Dozois —en.wikipedia.org/ wiki/Gardner Dozois— Annual Collection, and the rest is history...."

  Mark started the Best SF —bestsf.net— website to promote “the best in short Science Fiction.” It consists of his reviews of magazines and the various “Year's Best” collections and links to online stories. Before the site debuted in 2000, he had complied a database of his reactions to the stories he'd read in Gardner's The Year's Best Science Fiction annual collections and others to help him remember what he had read. “My dad,” he writes, “had from my earliest memories, mid 1960s, been writing mini reviews of films he had watched into big ledgers, so I guess it's something in the genes.” He creates the site using Windows Notepad(!) and spends varying amounts of time working on it. “Over the
last few months, less than an hour a week, as I've been spending about sixty hours a week working on my social work website Care Knowledge —care knowledge.com— which pays the bills!” He has no help with the site other than from a few publishers who supply him with review copies. He spends about a hundred dollars a year on domain registration and webspace; on top of that, buying books and magazines is probably his biggest expense. He writes that, “Before moving house a couple of years ago and taking on a bigger mortgage, the spending (don't tell the wife) could get out of hand.” For example, he had to pay over a hundred dollars for the paperback of Gardner's rare First Annual Collection.Mark estimates that he gets more than twenty thousand unique visits a year to Best SF and that his audience is spread broadly, although somewhat younger than the typical SF readership.

  Why did Mark create the site? “I'm a librarian, and have been since I was thirteen, when I started classifying my book collection—Asimov and Burroughs mostly. I like helping people and Best SF does what I do professionally—help social workers get a hold of the books and other publications that they need.” And would he quit his day job if it were possible to make a living from Best SF? “Yes, and if I was in my early twenties and unmarried, I'd probably try it, although I can't see how it could generate enough money to pay for a single twenty year old."

  There are vanishingly few critics who will attempt to read and review most of the short SF published. Because of this, these hearty souls have a huge influence on the critical discourse of the genre, second only to those of the Best of the Year anthologists. In my time as a writer, I have avidly read the opinions of Orson Scott Card —hatrack.com—, Mark Kelly —locusmag.blogspot.com—, Bluejack —blue jack.com— (aka L. Blunt Jackson), Rich Horton —sff.net/people/richard.horton—, and Lois Tilton —irosf.com/user/show.qsml?load user=10725— on the current state of short fiction. I find Mark Watson to be one of the most astute of this select group.

  * * * *

  mumpsimus.blogspot.com

  Matt Cheney works at a boarding school in central New Hampshire, where he's an English teacher and Director of Performing Arts. He studied Dramatic Writing at New York University and got his B.A. in English from the University of New Hampshire. He's currently working toward a Master's at Dartmouth, and will be writing a thesis on Samuel Delany —pcc.com/staff/jay/delany—. Matt started reading SF with some 1986 issues of Asimov's. “I was in, I think, fourth or fifth grade. My entire perspective on what SF is and can be was shaped by the early Dozois issues of Asimov's and by his Year's Best SF Fifth Annual Collection. Actually, most of it was shaped by reading Karen Joy Fowler's —sfwa.org/members/Fowler— story “The Faithful Companion at Forty” —iblist.com/book16542.htm— and trying to figure out why it was SF. I read the story over and over, because I was sure that since it was published in an SF magazine, it must be SF, and I must be missing something. So people who blame me for having an overly generous definition of SF, and a desire to keep that definition broad and all-encompassing, should really blame Gardner Dozois for publishing that story."

  Matt's blog The Mumpsimus —mumpsimus.blogspot.com— debuted in August of 2003. In just three years, his postings there have earned him a reputation as one of the genre's smartest critics. Although now he also has a regular column on Strange Horizons —strangehorizons.com— and many guest reviews on other sites, he is best known for The Mumpsimus. The technology behind his site is basic Blogger —blogger.com—. He writes almost all of his blog, although he will sometimes have guest reviewers when he can afford to send books out, since he has time to read only about 10 percent of what gets sent to him. There is very little cost or revenue associated with The Mumpsimus. Matt writes, “I like not having much cost or revenue from the site, because that way I don't feel compelled to do anything other than what I want to do. If I want to write about obscure books or movies that nobody much cares about, I do. I'm sure plenty of people would like me to make the site only about one sort of thing, but nothing in my life is about one sort of thing, and so I revel in the polyphonic mess I've created."

  He usually spends a few hours on The Mumpsimus every week, although he says that sometimes that seems like too much. He's kept very busy as a full-time grad student and high school teacher.

  When I asked him who he saw as his ideal audience, he wrote, “Anybody who reads the site has to have a high tolerance for reading about a wide range of subjects and types of literature. I'd get bored if I only wrote about one sort of thing all the time. I think the reason I've so happily taken to blogging is that the weblog medium is the first I've found that feels like a good match for my personality—fragmented, open to all sorts of moods and tones, a conglomeration of random influences and materials."

  Matt reports that when he began The Mumpsimus, he was curious as to whether anyone would respond to it. He was surprised when the site became so popular and when people started arguing with him online. “This changed my relationship to the site, because suddenly I wasn't just writing for myself, I was writing for an actual audience. I often just throw ideas and observations out there to see what will happen, and to stir up some discussion. I'm a mischief-maker at heart. What I want to do, though, is challenge writers and readers to hold themselves to high standards, which for me are high standards of surprise—the things I tend to point to with the most praise are things that in some way surprised me."

  So Matt, if you could make a living from Mumpsimus, would you quit your day job? “I wouldn't want to have to make my living from my writing, because it would change my relationship to the writing. I don't feel any need to appease any sort of audience, because I don't need the writing to pay my bills."

  * * * *

  exit

  Truth in reporting section: Aside from being some of the most important webmasters in the genre, Mark Watson and Matt Cheney are two of the nicest people I know. I'm proud to call them my friends. And while I have never actually met Mark Watson, I have been a huge fan of his site since the day he invited me to review it, as readers of this column must certainly realize by now.

  Copyright © 2006 James Patrick Kelly

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  * * *

  SAFEGUARD

  by Nancy Kress

  Four innocent children may hold the key to our survival, or total annihilation, in this powerful and riveting new tale.

  The uniformed military aide appeared at her elbow just as Katherine Taney rose from her gilded chair to enter the Oval Office. “The president will see you now,” his secretary said simultaneously with the aide's statement, “Wait a moment, Katie."

  She turned to stare at him. Keep the president waiting? But his face told. For a moment vertigo nearly took her, a swooping blackness, but only for a moment. She said quietly to the aide, “Another one?"

  "Two more. Possibly three."

  Dear God.

  "Ma'am,” chided the secretary, “the president is ready."

  She straightened her aging back, thought a quick prayer, and went to brief the commander-in-chief. No, not really to brief—to plead, with the war-battered United States government, for compassion in the face of the unthinkable.

  * * * *

  In the beginning, Li remembered, there had been big faceless people, white as cartoons. These memories were quick and slippery, like dreams. The other children didn't have them at all. Since that time, there had been only the real cartoons, the world, and Taney.

  He had realized a long time ago that Taney was a person inside a white cartoon covering, and that he himself was a person inside the world, another covering. The world must also have an outside because when Taney left after each visit, she couldn't have stayed for days in the space behind the leaving door. The space was too small, not even room to lie down to sleep. And what would she eat or drink in there until she came back? And where did she get the fried cakes and other things she brought them?

  “There's another door, isn't there, Taney?” he said yet again as the five of them sat around the fe
eder in the Grove. The feeder had just brought up bowls of food, but no one except Sudie was eating them because Taney had brought a lot of fried cakes in a white bag. Sudie, always greedy, had eaten three fried cakes and half a bowl of stew and now slumped happily against a palm tree, her naked belly round and her lips greasy. Jana sat with her knees drawn up to her chin, her thin arms clasped around her legs. Kim stared at nothing.

  Li repeated, “Another door. You go out of the world through another door, don't you?"

  “I can't answer that,” Taney said, as always. The girls didn't even glance at her. Li didn't expect them to; he was the only one who ever questioned Taney.

  But tonight Jana, still gazing over her clasped knees at the shadow of trees against the sky, said, “Why can't you answer, Taney?"

  Taney's head swiveled toward Jana. It was hard to see Taney's eyes through the faceplate on her white covering; you had to get very close and squint. The cartoons covered like Taney didn't even have eyes, no matter how much you squinted at them.

  There hadn't been any new cartoons for a long while.

  Taney finally said, “I can't answer you, Jana, because the world keeps you safe."

  The old answer, the one they'd heard all their lives from Taney, from the cartoons. For the first time, Li challenged it. “How, Taney? How does the world keep us safe? Sudie still fell over that stone and you had to come and fix her arm. Jana ate that flower and all her food came out of her mouth.” The next day, all of that kind of flower, all over the world, had disappeared.