Observant readers of Ibn Qirtaiba may have noticed that since late last year it has been a member of the SF Zines WebRing - in fact, it was the founding member. At the time of writing this WebRing has 18 science fiction Webzines as members - although the number is growing all the time. You can use the SF Zines WebRing menu on Ibn Qirtaiba's index page to navigate forward, backward or randomly through a varied range of SF magazines, or even obtain a complete list of members. If any of your other favourite SF zines on the Web are not members, why not encourage them to join?
This issue's contents include two new short stories by regular contributors William Sternman and Frances Taira. Three regular segments also make an appearance this issue: Leann Arndt's Dear Sis letters, Fred Noweck's Sci-Fi Corner and W Gregory Stewart's poetry - this issue's selection the garden after Armageddon originally appeared in Thin Ice magazine.
This issue's featured artist is Gennadiy Obukhov, a Russian living in Germany who works as an electronic designer and programmer. Since 1989 he has devoted much of his free time to the creation of computer-rendered artwork, most recently using high-level tools to model and render 3D scenes. A selection of his SF/fantasy-themed artworks graces this issue.
For future issues I am hoping to receive submissions on media SF topics (ie. televisual and movie science fiction), to redress the bias towards literary SF that IQ has developed over its recent issues. However all contributions are more than welcome. Please enjoy issue 26.
Short story: Rights
of Passage by William Sternman Serial: Dear Sis, part
3 by Leann Arndt
Henry Morgan couldn't bring himself to knock on the door just yet After all, it was four o'clock in the morning, and if he was wrong, he'd have to explain to a total stranger why he had awakened him from a sound sleep.
But he couldn't be wrong because he remembered it happening twenty-eight years ago in this very West Philadelphia apartment. And it was more than just a memory for him, a mere electrochemical reproduction of a past event, it was a lifesaver that he'd clung to whenever the tidal waves arched over him. Now that the sea of his life was serene, it was time for him to validate the memory by passing on the lifesaver in his turn. Otherwise, nothing would happen.
He took his right hand out of the pocket of his black raincoat and knocked on the door, his pulse exploding in his ears like fireworks.
The young man who answered the door was Henry's height. Henry knew, of course, that he was duly twenty-eight, just half his own age, but he wasn't prepared for just how young he would look. How young and frightened and alone. Young men nowadays were so arrogant, they knew everything. They were invulnerable. This one, on the other hand, was more like a highschool boy by comparison.
Henry knew how he felt. He wanted to put his arms around him and comfort him and give him the lifesaver that had once been given to him, but he knew that it was too soon: the young man would be too embarrassed and terrified to accept it.
The young man just stared at him as though he were in a daze. It would pass in a little while, Henry knew.
In the meantime he stepped into the apartment and looked around. It was all exactly as be had remembered it, of course, except the details. It was as though all these years he had been visualizing a sketch for a theatrical set and now he was actually on the stage itself.
He walked over to the mahogany desk and touched the grey-green Olympia upright typewriter lovingly, as he might have touched the face of Nancy or their baby son. All the plays he had written on his upright typewriter, all the radio commercials and brochures and ads. All the hopes and dreams that had been poured into it. All the failures and disappointments and heartbreaks. He remembered, too, the writer's blocks that had gone on for months soit had seemed as though he would never be able to write again. But that was in the past. Now that he had gotten through it all, thanks in part to his lifesaver, now that he was here, instead of there, all the memories, even the most painful, were suffused with a kind of nostalgia that softened the pain and made it more tolerable.
But not for the young man. Not yet. Not for a very long time to come.
"I haven't seen one of these in years," he told the young man, who had followed him into the living room. "I use a computer now."
He had remembered that the young man
wore his dark brown hair closely cropped, but it still seemed
strange to Henry, especially in contrast to his own long grey
hair. His blue eyes now seemed unusual in someone with his
complexion, they appeared even more intense than they actually
were. His lips were thin and clamped tightly together, as though
they were zippered shut.
Now Henry noticed the ashtray overflowing with smoldering butts sitting on top of the typewriter. He picked it up, walked to the open window and dumped its contents outside.
"I used to do that all the time and once spent hours cleaning up the mess after the ashtray cracked apart. I almost set the whole place on fire." He put the ashtray on die window sill. "I gave up smoking years ago, you'll be happy to hear."
Before he forgot he had to get the hook, he walked over to the battleship grey steel shelving that held the young man's books. He was the kind of person who was very meticulous about keeping his books in alphabetical order by author. It was absurd, really, because every time he added a book to his collection, he had to move all the books after it. But it did make it easy for Henry to find Marquand's Point of No Return; it was right where it had always been, between Malamud and Maugham.
It had been so long since Henry had held Point of No Return. As he flipped through it, be couldn't help smiling as a wave of excitement washed over him. Suddenly, he was twenty-eight again and reading Marquand's novel for the first time.
The young man was still staring at him.
"Do you mind if I take this back with me? I gave my copy away to someone a long time ago and now it's out of print." The young man nodded mechanically, as though he were still in a daze.
Finding the book was like meeting an old friend you hadn't seen in years, and Henry tucked it under his arm to make sure that in the emotion of the moment he didn't leave it behind.
He looked around the living room once more.
"I still can't believe I'm here." Then he looked back at the young man. "I can't believe it's you."
Henry's words seemed to snap the young man out of his trance. "Who are you?" he asked.
Henry had been expecting the question, naturally, but it wasn't time yet. Not quite yet.
"Do you mind if I sit down? I've been traveling a very long time." The young man would not believe how long it had actually taken him to get here, at least not at first. Henry almost didn't believe it himself.
The young man nodded and Henry perched on the edge of the dark brown tweed sofa. The young man sat in the spindle back chair in front of his mahogany desk.
Henry looked around the room again. It had been such a long time since he was here last, He had forgotten the little stainless steel sculpture of a bird and the Joan Miro print.
Henry rubbed his hand along the tweed-covered cushion beside him. Nowadays everything was synthetic - polyester, acrylic, olefin - but this sofa was made in the days before man-made fibers became popular.
"They don't make them like this anymore," he said and then found himself stumbling over the young man’s name, Hank. "You'll never know how strange it feels calling you that. I used to be called Hank too when I was your age." Nowadays nicknames were out - everyone was Michael or Richard or William - so, of course, he was Henry.
He ran his hand along the cushion again.
"I came here to tell you that everything's going to be all right."
"Everything?" Hank asked, the fear in his intensely blue eyes shading into hope.
"Everything you're scared about." The hope in his eyes bobbed to the surface like a Ping Pong ball released at the bottom of a lake. "You mean I won't be fired?"
Oh, Hank, the older man thought. I wish I could tell you that, I wish with all my heart I could tell you that. He felt his obligation to tell the young man the truth being undermined by his desire to comfort him.
"No. You'll be fired tomorrow. You'll also be fired from your next job too. You're going to go through years and years of hell before you get your act together."
The bright ball of hope sank below the surface again.
"Get my act together?" Hank asked, puzzled.
Henry had forgotten how parochial slang can be, but decided not to explain the expression.
"Yes."
"How do you know all this?"
"I've been through it already, Hank." He knew what the young man had been thinking just before he knocked on the door and he had to keep it from happening or nothing would ever happen for him again.
"All the times I asked God to take my life, the few times I tried to do it myself - I'm so glad now nothing happened. That's what I wanted to tell you, Hank. Grit your teeth, you'll make it too."
"Who are you?" Hank asked a little more insistently.
Now was the time, Henry knew. He put the book on the sofa beside him and stood up.
"There's something I'd like to do before I go. You probably won't understand it, btit it's something that someone did to me when I was your age and it helped me get through a lot of tough times."
"What?" Hank asked and he stood up too. He appeared shaky, as though he were about to faint.
This was the delicate part, because if the young man panicked, then Henry would have failed and it would all be over.
"I want to bold you for just a minute. I want to tell you how much I love you, Hank, bow much I I've always loved you. I want to assure you that everything's going to work out in the end."
For a moment Henry felt as though he were watching a movie whose film had jammed in the camera, freezing a single unmoving image on the screen. Then the film lurched forward and Hank walked stiff-legged across the room, like a person on stilts, and stopped in front of him.
Henry put his arms around the young man and drew his thin body up against his own flabby one. At first it was like holding a tree, Hank was so tense and unyielding. After a while his body relaxed. Henry held him as tightly as he could, trying to confirm how much he really did love this young man.
Then he let his arms drop to his sides, picked Marquand's book up from the sofa, tucked it under his arm again and turned to face his namesake,
"I'll be waiting for you," he promised.
"Who are you?" the young man asked once more.
"You."
The first thing Henry did when he got home, even before he kissed Nancy or Hank Jr., was to put Marquand's book in the space waiting for it on his battleship grey steel shelving, right between Malamud and Maugham, where it had always been.
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Hi campers!! This month I reach into the box beside my workstation and pull out four more books. And the winners are:
The Stainless Steel Rat strikes again as Slippery Jim DiGriz robs a bank on the wrong planet. In order to beat the executioner, Jim plea bargains his way into retrieving an alien artifact from a planet inhabited by the decendents of prisoners dumped on the planet for thousands of years. The climate on the place has turned everybody into the equivalent of Arabic fanatics, and the only way to accomplish his mission is to take over by out-fanatic-ing the fanatics. Harrison is still going strong with his best-known character, who has survived at least seven books so far. Very good.
Roc and a Hard Place is the nineteenth volumn of the Xanth trilogy (thats right, I said trilogy). The demoness, Metria is trying to find out how to get the stork to listen to her summons, so she consults the Magician Humphery, whose Talent is Information. Those who have read about Xanth before will know that it isn't that easy. Humphery requires a Service for each answer... and Metria's Service is to serve a court Summons on Roxanne Roc on the charge of violating the Adult Conspiracy....
This is a welcome continuation of the Xanth story which started many years ago with A Spell for Chamelion. (Which I recommend you start with if you have never read anything about Xanth.) If you have never read Anthony, the concepts may be a bit confusing (I take it back, very confusing). Not for the beginner.
World Without End details a world-wide conspiracy to discredit and kill all genuine psychics. The conspiracy is apparently over ten thousand years old, dating back to the destruction of the island continent of Atlantis. This is an extremely complex story line and I think Cochran and Murphy have pulled it off. While I have not read anything by Cochran before, I have read Murphy (best known for the Destroyer series).
Sam Smith, an orphan, turns out to be one of the most powerful psychics in the world and when a hole in time sends him to ancient Atlantis, he learns why people with his bloodline are targeted for extermination....
This book, while an excellent read , I don't recommend for the beginning SF reader and intermediate readers may have trouble with it as well.
Power Play is the third and final section of (another?) trilogy. The sentient planet, Petaybee, must fight for its life as greed and anger gathers forces against it. Throughout the series, the planet has been flexing its muscles and finding out what the limits of its power is... personally, I wouldn’t want an entire planet mad at me!
Powers That Be is the first in this series and I suggest you read that one first. It developes the characters and story line so that you can tell what's going on.
And now, letters to the column:
Hi,
I am a Mensan that lives in Vidalia, Ga. I just received this month's copy of SMOG (Savannah-area Mensans Of Georgia) and read your column. I loved it! I really appreciate the fact that you are not reviewing books that have just come out. You are reviewing books that have been around a while. Most of us can't afford to chase down the most recent volumes from the Sci-Fi wizards. Thus, your column should be a great success. I am now in the process of reading a couple of books. I keep one in the car and will sit there and read while my wife runs in a store or something and there is another beside the bed and another again in the bathroom. The one that is keeping my interest the most is Battlefield Earth by L. Ron Hubbard. I am only 300 pages into it but I can already tell that I want to read the sequel. If you are familiar with this book I would appreciate finding out what is the title of the sequel. Also, I am interested if you have ever heard of a book named BUNCH by David Bunch? I read a book review in Aboriginal Science Fiction magazine but was never able to find the book in any bookstore. Two other things I would like to suggest that may be worth mentioning in your column. One is the Science Fiction Book Club. I know that book clubs can be a pain in the ass, but I have found that after you fulfill your obligation they are very amenable about not sending you anything automatically if you write and ask. They will keep sending the monthly "Things to Come" bulletin, but with no obligation. I have found this to be a great way to buy hard cover books cheep. I keep my hard cover books. I throw or give away the paperbacks. And the other thing is I have found The Year’s Best Science Fiction (the annual collection edited by Garner Dozois) to be a great way to read a lot of different authors so as to get a good sampling of what I might like. I keep this one in the bathroom. Lastly, I would like to say that I like your writing style. It entices me to read all of the books that you have reviewed.
(signed) Dave
Wow, Dave! I really enjoy getting mail from people who like what I write! Ok, seriously then, first, my sources say that there is no sequel to Battlefield Earth at this time. Sorry. Secondly, Bunch by David Bunch is published by a small publishing house called Broken Glass Press. And you can obtain this book through the Online Bookstore at http://www.amazon.com. This is the only place that I have found that carries it. Better hurry up and order it before they run out....
OK people, that's all for this month! Stay tuned to this channel ...oops!... keep reading this column for further developements in Sci-fi and Fantasy as I see it... and keep sending in your letters and emails!
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7-31-2055
Dear Sis:
Well Sis, I got the device, I ran with it, and wop bop a loop bop, here I am.
Where is here? I'm back on Zartos. Apparently, I'm here fifty years after I left. In front of me is a monument dedicated to, ahem, my film acheivements. Apparently it is haunted by my spirit. This must've been one of Lucy's tour spots. So what, was he planning on having Beezle do me in so I could haunt the place? I don't know. What I do know is that I'm going to get my butt out of here.
Are you wondering about my alien baby? I know that I haven't mentioned him since I was gotten with child. I'll tell you. Hybrid children have a longer gestation than human children. I've been with child for about nine months. However, I'll still be with child nine months from now and nine months after that. Gestation is approximately 36 months. Heck of a thing isn't it? I never wanted babies. Ah well, such is my life.
Shoot, Beezle just popped up across
the courtyard. Hang on sis and maybe I'll get to finish this
letter.
"Beezle baby, there you are snoogums! I thought I'd lost you."
"Woman, where is the device?"
"I have it babycakes. "I just have to go to the little female room. I'll be right back lambie."
I said I'd tell you about how I get these letters to you. It is a device that I picked up, lifted, my first time on Zartos. Technical gobbledegook aside, it takes words, transforms them into an appropriate format and uses Zartosian technology to ship them anywhere and anywhere. Hey, this thing is better than Fed Ex.
Before Beezle baloney head gets a clue, I have to be out of here. I'll be in touch.
Mina
06-15-2005
Dear Sis:
Lucy, does it bother you that I just call you Sis? You're my sister and I define you that way.
You'll never guess where I am now. I ducked out of Beezle's sight, fiddled everything on the device that could be fiddled and got zapped here. Where is here? Well, I'm standing in front of my house watching myself get abducted by aliens. Lordy, I forgot to tell you about those awful curlers I was wearing. Lucy, do you remember those huge plastic hand me down curler mom gave me? Those are what I had in my hair. Plus, that nightie I was wearing barely covered the essentials. I am so embarrased.
I must be getting close to figuring this thing out since I at least got my house. Now, if I can just get out of one those time paradox thingies, I'll be okay. Let me see, I have to get my house, current time, no other me running around, and everything should come out okay. That is going to be easier said then done.
Oh, you might be wondering why I haven't been noticed by my other self or the aliens. I don't know if I mentioned this before but this doohicky apparently makes those standing in a certain radius unable to be detected. As far as I understand these things, I did get a D in Science, it has something to do with light rays. But hey, I don't know if that is true or not.
Lucy, darling sister, I think I have it figured out. Of course, no matter the outcome, I'm sure that you'll be hearing from me.
Mina
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"She must be Military Intelligence." The graduating seniors packed their dorm stuff and prepared to leave for their first position in the Corps.
"But she seems so ordinary." The cadets looked at the short, thin redhead, leaving the dorm. She received a coveted position as a diplomatic intern. Usually that went to experienced officers.
"They're trained to blend. Maybe something's wrong on Lothia."
The intern, Marion Stern, reached the same conclusion. She joined Space Corps for the Academy education and the opportunity to develop leadership skills. But she didn't volunteer for suicidal missions. She went to Colonel Kim's office in the next sphere.
A long time ago, Juvenal asked,"But who is to guard the guards themselves?" The Corps were still asking that.
"Ambassador Andrew Mackenzie
denies he broke the law, and interfered with the coming political
election of the colonists," the Colonel said. "During
your diplomatic internship, evaluate the Lothian situation and
report back to me."
"Because Mackenzie reduced the threat of civil war, the people regard him as a hero. I want you to tell me my objective in gathering information, and my exit strategy." Nobody likes a snitch. The powerful, politically active Mackenzie family owned patents on new technology that recycled energy waste. She noted a picture on the wall of Mackenzie and the Colonel, when they were Academy karate champions. The Scot had a long, serious face and mane of yellow hair. The burly Korean smiled, as he waved the team trophy. Did Kim accept that his friend might be punished?
"My background is in health care not law enforcement," she continued. "Let's say Mackenzie thinks he's God, who's going to restrain him?"
"The plan is for you to investigate and report, Lieutenant Stern, not to challenge Mackenzie to martial arts combat. In this assignment, your primary work (75% time) will be to teach the Lothians to use chi therapy. The terrorist attacks on atomic power stations have inflicted radioactive injury on the children."
"Why didn't you say so?" Obviously she was the one for a chi therapist assignment. She could evaluate the political situation on her day off from the clinic. "I'll leave at once." They shook hands.
Back to Lothia. The planet her parents escaped from in terror of the Assassins.
She tried to present reality to the Ambassador at the fundraiser on Lothia, when she saw the posters with 'Vote for Mackenzie.' He worked the crowd, joking and shaking hands, "Call me Andy." That performance showed why people nominated him to be planetary rep.
"We're Observers, Andy. Who selected you for Dictator of Lothia?"
The music theme indicated time for the finale. Gliding onstage, Andy said, "Thank you for attending this benefit for our war orphans." He held the children in his arms. Marion released a pulse of chi energy from her fingertips that broke up radiation toxins in the child. They treated a dozen patients then said, "Come to the health clinic. No more war," and waved goodbye to the cheering audience. Many of them clutched Andy K9, or Captain Mac toys, bought to benefit the War Orphans funds.
The ex-Governor Rafe stopped Andy. "You didn't attend our last Party meeting. We want you and Space Corps Officers to go back home, where you belong."
"Find another job. The Founder's Party is finished. I refuse to betray Lothian's elected government."
"Collaborators with Earth will be banished."
Leaving them to argue, Marion entered the cabin of the shuttle. She hoped the TV exposure would encourage patients to attend the free clinic. In a corner, lay two unconscious men. A poster above them said, Founder's Party Forever and had a picture of The Founder. He resembled Andy more than the scholarly Rafe.
The happy audience from the arena could become a howling, angry mob and turn on strangers like Marion. The fragile post war alliances would disintegrate. She closed the shuttle door and took off. Randomizing the tunnels chosen, she aimed at the health clinic an outpost in the desert area. Next she sent an SOS signal to Andy, the clinic and the police.
At the clinic, they used Lothian medicine and chi therapy to treat the patients. "Why bring them to Corps territory?" Andy said. "They should have been left under Lothian jurisdiction. I allegedly broke regulations to prevent civil war; you broke regulations to prevent a riot. I'll report you to Kim." The patients recovered and told their story to the police about being robbed by masked thugs.
Why was chi therapy difficult today in the arena and clinic? She felt an electricity in the air and sent an e-mail message to Kim. Andy read it over her shoulder. "What difference does it make, if the planet is passing through an ionic storm?"
"I don't know much, but maybe the Corps does. A storm affects adults like a strong stimulant." The visitors to the planet sweated a lot and had a fast heart rate and breathing rate. Except Andy who reacted like a member of the colony, born on the planet. If Andy had Lothian relatives, this might bias his decisions in their favor.
"The Lothian news programs tell us, planetary war is the next step." Andy switched on the Look-C and placed a sensor on the globe of Lothia. The screen showed a man seated in the Spaceport adjusting an artificial right hand. "Ex-Governor Rafe: injured fighting off assassins. Years ago his father murdered all the important candidates who opposed his own election."
"Tell me about it," she said under her breath.
"So their families killed The Founder and hunted down his family." He moved the sensor and a different screen showed a group of tanned, refugee children exiting a plane from a troubled area.
Marion Stern's face remained set in stone. No wonder the Corps sent her to check up on Andy. His new adaptation of the Look-C enabled him to tap into all the surveillance cameras on Lothia. What next? The Corps isn't wise and good enough to handle unlimited power over other human beings.
"Your specialty is health care," he continued. Let's end the war and help them recover. Who cares if we break a couple of regulations. Besides I have an arrangement to work with the company that conducts authorized surveillance in the public area of Spaceport. Part of our anti-terrorist initiative."
"Send a request for written authorization to tap into those cameras to Corps headquarters. However, I believe that your next step could be to rob the colonists of their privacy and obtain information to influence their decisions." Marion could feel the excitement in the cabin. She left to meditate and place a cone of energy around herself to neutralize the environmental probes of the Look-C device.
She sent another message to Kim documenting her observations that Andy ran for office in local elections. He also used devices to conduct surveillance on people. Kim sent back a recall and replace Mackenzie order.
Andy practised his election speech. "People of Lothia, we are ambassadors from Earth. End this war, or you will destroy your planet."
Marion handed him the orders from Kim. Andy grabbed the Look-C and beamed down to the planet. The Colonel didn't appreciate this bad news report or its messenger. "Lieutenant, find him."
She followed Mackenzie: a compass
across the emptiness of space, and found him sitting in
meditation on the grass, next to a full size replica of Old
Earth's Stonehenge. She walked up behind him. "Colonel Kim
sent me. You have to answer for your actions." He remained
silent.
Her beeper paged. She aimed the image at the grass. The Lothian Central Committee appeared with Kim. "As you see, Captain Mackenzie and Lieutenant Stern are enjoying a well earned rest on vacation," Kim said. What vacation?
"The Lothian people have arrested terrorist leaders and canceled approval for the War Powers' Act. They refuse future access for the Look-C, as an invasion of privacy. However they signed a treaty to provide a refuel/recycling energy center for Space Corps. The Corps orders you both to return immediately." Andy put his arm around Marion and smiled at the camera.
"Marion, you have been appointed my assistant," Kim said "while I remain on Lothia as acting ambassador. Mackenzie will take over as liaison and P.R. resource for the new Recycling Energy site."
"I can't return if the Look-C is to be used," Marion said. "Even if it means disobeying a direct order."
"You were right. It's destroyed and we won't rebuild it," Andy promised. Kim and the Committee agreed, then signed off.
"I thought you would be jailed for disobedience. Now you're promoted to a high paying job as a liaison." Perhaps that was their plan all along. Now she was becoming paranoid with a conspiracy theory.
"Even Space Corps officers can't be trusted with too much power over others. Some of the issues you raise, I intend to put them on a TV news show. Marion, your questions are annoying, but you make me think."
"Prove it by your actions. Others know how to make a Look-C. Work with designers to develop privacy cones to neutralize it."
Andy's eyes had a far away look, as he considered the challenge.
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4. there, the last rose, plucked
by a one good hand, will be given
in last love - and final irony -
and fade.
3. and there, the thorn, because
it lives at all, is cultivated.
2. these fallen bitter fruit are
are not gathered, but left awhile
and allowed to rot, in prayer and
hope of ferment - but the gifts
of zymergy and blindness will not
be granted in this place.
1. seed, blade, branch: these,
all and each, give way to sand...
or something else.