Authors Thinking Like Scientists~Do readers do the same?
Do you make science fiction stories? What is the difference between making a “science fiction story” and making a “science fiction universe”? It is this question which I often ponder. You see, the wonderful administrator at a science fiction website’s forums had, quite some time ago, cleanly denounced Armored Soldier Valkyrion and it hit me pretty hard. Ever since then, I have struggled to understand why SF people would have problems with Valkyrion. The answer, quite pathetically, always seemed to come to some very unflattering descriptions of mainline SF supporters (if there is such a thing). Clearly, that would be, as my dear Admin put it, “defensive,” and a different answer must be the right one.
But is that really true?
“Science fiction,” for you historians out there, pretty much evolved from nerdy-ass scientists getting bored of writing theses upon physics, mechanics, electrical builds, and biology. They took their in-depth, nothing-spared-mention style built in the halls of scientific study and started writing stories about what would happen if the vaccuum-tube computer came to life and spawned children and took-over Yale University before aiming to rule the world but was defeated when the Nazis joined the Royal Air Force to defeat it and force it to live its years on Mars, instead. Now, this sounds like it could be a two-hour motion picture nowadays, but with everything backed-up by hard science, it filled two or three E.E. Smith-style books, each at three-hundred-plus pages. Damn, that’s some serious shit.
Over time, some authors became enamoured with the technology and decided to screw the explanations that detracted from telling a story. If a rocket launch at Cape Canaveral works (and we all know it does), then why waste your time reading about why? Just launch the fucking rocket and go to the Moon! See you tomorrow!—This attitude was a new breath for a genre called “science fiction” which was often unapproachable by all but the diligent readers of the planet Earth just because two different things were going-on at once and in-full—“science” and “fiction.” So one got prominence—the “fiction” story—and the science was simply de facto, existing because (duh) it exists. The stories became easy to approach, less reliant upon science, and eventually, written by authors who knew little about science itself but could bullshit their way through a story by just keeping a limiter on how crazy the “futuristic machinery” was going to be.
The two above descriptions are the most basic lines in science fiction—that is, “hard” science fiction and “soft” science fiction. Some like only one, some like the other, but most self-professed fans see the merits of both. Like any production, of course, it must be done well. Just because somebody liked Ridley Scott’s production of “Blade Runner” does not mean that they would enjoy his work on “Alien,” pure and simple. So when I ask a person in-charge of a science fiction community for their opinion, I understand that not all SF may be his or her cup of tea.
But when your sorry ass criticises my work without addressing a single part of the story (“soft” SF) or the universe in which it operates (“hard” SF), what am I supposed to do except wonder what biases, prejudgments, or just fucking laziness drove you to express that opinion?—With twelve books already in-print, Valkyrion moves across the line between “hard” and “soft” at will, and that makes it hard for people who hold prejudices to get-into it while making it very easy for open-minded people to get into it.
Do you like humanoid combat machines—Valkyrions? Read “Girl’s Squadron War Chronicle.” Are you biased against “dem thar Jap robot story” and want something that echoes our own world? (Why are you reading fiction?)—Read “Mountain Fox.” How about in-depth descriptions of the weapons the air force uses?—There’s “Cosmoballistics” waiting for you there, professor. Not very much into science but love a good SF story?—“White Rose” kicks some serious ass and has romance around every corner.
But don’t you dare judge a book by its cover. Science fiction has its roots in intelligence and processes of analysis. Euclid would kick you out of his school if you decided to assume that a cube supports itself “uh, because its a cube.” Carl Sagan would laugh your silliness aside, pat you on the back, and give you a kind “y’know, that’s a good theory, but we should look closer” and hopefully, make you feel really dumb. So take a good, long look at Valkyrion. I do not mind if you do not like it, but I would enjoy the chance to discuss it with you.
Why?
Because I write science fiction.
Until next time,
Adam Schiller
