How Sunday (Almost) Wins Every Time, Along with More Book Talk—Ink for April 26th, 2023

I want to get into a habit of at least writing out one post for Sunday, like the one I did before doing the Axiom Verge review. So I started writing out the previous post on Sunday with the idea that I would do a little link list like last time—with this one being slightly more audio oriented than the other one with both new pods and music.

I think between laundry day, assembling a new hamper in between loads, and not brewing a tumbler of caffeinated tea after work (either Yerba Mate, or Twinnings English/Irish Breakfast), I didn't realize that I ran out of energy. I got to the point of trying to explain RoadQuest before drawing a complete blank and calling it a night. 

The next day, when I did get around to writing Monday's post, I thought that the new direction it headed was better than what I initially outlined mentally. 

I think for now I'll stay on the literary train and keep it brief for now. Here's a video I watched a few months back from Rebecca Watson's second YouTube channel (Rebecca Vs. Life), in which she reviews William Gibson's Neuromancer...

Admittedly some of the best cyberpunk work I've experienced outside of reading Cory Doctorow is via different mediums. The original Ghost in the Shell film from 1995 was technically my first introduction to the science fiction sub-genre around my junior year of high school. Then, when I discovered Doctorow via a former co-worker, that was also when I watched a playthrough of a game called Snatcher that was part-thriller and part-mystery. Post-college, it was the film Akira along with playthroughs of Read-Only-Memories and VA-11 Hall-A, then the film Blade Runner, and eventually reading Neuromancer.

I'm with Watson on this, and I find that dense, technical prose is what makes cyberpunk a bit of a hard digest. The issue isn't just restricted to Neuromancer since I got the same vibe from Read-Only-Memories at times and I enjoyed that game for the setting and characters alone, and some of Doctorow's own books read similarly.  

A lot of the titles mentioned that are easier to comprehend usually lean towards thrillers, which isn't a bad thing, but some of them lean into old action movie tropes—or the closest facsimile to them anyway. It's far from a deal breaker for me, but it makes them harder to suggest to anyone who is curious about this little niche of sci-fi. 

Me? I might be biased in my recommendations, but Cory Doctorow is definitely a good cyberpunk author to start out with—Makers was the book that got me hooked on his work and Little Brother is excellent for those into Young Adult Literature.   

I would also consider the game, Hypnospace Outlaw, to be cyberpunk in part due to its setting and presentation. At the same time, it's partly a parody of the late 1990s Internet and Microsoft along with being an alternate history game, making everything click together gracefully without having to piece together strings of technical and philosophical code.

Of course, Read-Only-Memories also has my seal of approval and, without spoiling anything, references Neuromancer. 

I also believe, that Jaz Jazalyn's poetry novel, vVilrRuUsS, would fit into the definition of cyberpunk. That's currently the vibe I get as I'm reading it.

Watson did a follow-up video with a review of another Gibson novel, Virtual Light, which sounds promising. I feel like its another book to add to my to-read list, and possibly put Gibson into my list of favorite cyberpunk (and sci-fi) authors.

 

That's it for now! Hope you all are having a good week!

Flash Fiction: Sense of Taste

    “If you knew that was tasteless bread,” Peter said. “You would have never taken the whole loaf.”
    “But it looked so much like corn bread,” The android replied.
    Peter was getting tired of teaching the logistics of taste. It had taken weeks for his android, a Humanics 180, to activate its taste buds.
    Peter had tried making breakfast that morning, some pancakes and an omlette. But the android just ate them like usual, no recognition of maple syrup or cheese. So it was back to the programming and Peter played around with its binary code.
    Turned out that a section of the code for taste was garbled thanks to a corroded chip. He took it straight from its head and slipped it into his overcoat. Back to the shop, in the corner, where all the Humanics chips were hidden from makers and breakers.
    180, being a discontinued model from recently, had an abundance of replacement chips. Each being full of updated firmware. Overwhelmed by the mass of compatibility, Peter left with a box.
    He plopped it on the workshop bench, sorting the chips from interpretation and recognition. He connected them to his desktop, trying to find the mint condition that would last for the android’s lifespan. Most turned up aged or corroding worse than the chip it already had.
    There was one chip that Peter was pleased with, a fresh recognition fragment. He plopped the chip into the android without further analysis, booting it back up.
    “Good evening, Peter,” It said, grinning.
    Peter exhaled a sigh of relief, “Lovely isn’t it?”
    “…Yes. If that’s what you believe.”
    “The sunset I mean.”
    “Ah! Makes sense now.”
    Peter took out the loaf of bread, a combination of grains and pepper baked from long ago. In Peter’s case, long ago was usually two weeks when he wasn’t programming casual games.
    He set it out on the table, sliced clean from beginning to end. Feasting on one slice each, they slowly made it through the loaf. Peter observed the android’s face, watching the twinges from its lips.
    When its face winced with distaste, Peter smiled, “If you knew that was tasteless bread, you would have never taken the whole loaf.”

For Writ's Summer Writing Challenge , extended to the end of September.

Flash Fiction: Final Moments

The guns swamp triumphs over the mediaeval alien. He stood in silence without a flinch to his name. His body heat escaping through the wounds left by the lead, some of which ricocheted off the armor.

Few men injured, they continued to fire at the knight with the same results. He began to charge at them, limping with every step. The soldiers, with guns reloaded, readied their aim at the assailant.

“Hold your fire,” The commander said.

The soldiers remained still. The knight continued to charge forward.

“Heathens, be gone,” He gasped, taking one big swing with his blade.

The swing was not a sharp and precise crescent from the role-playing games or fencing bouts the soldiers were more familiar with.  The frontlines were able to doge the attack unscathed.

The knight stumbled forward onto his knees, gasping for quick breaths. The commander began to walk toward him with the soldiers creating a corridor. Rain ran over his worn torn face. He looked down at the knight who was bleeding from the bullet wounds.

He pointed his gun towards the warrior then withdrew it. With him dead, the commander turn to his platoon, “Good work, men!”

It took a wave of salutes for the ‘game over’ message to appear onscreen. Continue? The player was not going to take anymore BS missions and stormed off from the arcade.

For a flash fiction competition on Terrible Minds: One Random Sentence.