Writers of the Future, Volume 30
I must have passed all of the questions, because Jennie nodded, and said, “That’s good. Now, please open this.” She handed me a small wooden box.
I took it, resting my hands on the polished surface, and looked at Mother. “Grandfather, is he—” I couldn’t finish the question.
Mother leaned forward and placed her hand over mine. “He passed in the night.”
My eyes teared up, though I didn’t know why. Grandfather would not have been afraid. With so many of his memories gone, he probably didn’t even know he was dying, or what death was.
Would he remember me in the afterlife without his memories? Would he recognize Father when they met? I felt a sudden pang of guilt. I should have thought to refuse at least some memories of Father.
“Trys, he left you everything,” Mother said, her hand trembling. Tears welled in her eyes as well. “This house is yours now.”
Jennie nodded. “It’s true. Now—”
A shriek from outside. Startled, I almost flung the box from my lap. “What—?”
Jennie glanced out the window. “Your family is not being very cooperative in leaving the premises, I’m afraid. But security is handling it. Now, please, Mr. Blakely, if you will open the box?”
I ran my hand across the smooth top one more time, then lifted the lid.
Inside rested a stack of black-and-white photographs with yellowed edges, on top of a worn clothbound book. And on top of the photos rested a gauzy bag filled with leaves. Their green spicy smell wafted up to me …
“…Trust me, Geoffrey” Alice said. “This is the best thing to drink when cramming for exams. Won’t leave you all jittery or wiped out like coffee.” She held the cup under my nose, and the spice-scented steam washed over my face.
“Fine, I’ll give it a try.” I took the cup and set it down beside the criminology textbook. “But first, why don’t you come sit right here?” I patted my lap.
“Sure, I’ll sit there, if you can tell me the two main criticisms of social learning theory.”
I sighed. “Right now? My main criticism is that learning inhibits our social interactions.”
“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought. Get to work, rich boy.”
I scowled at the book. “What’s the point? I’ll learn all this when Father gives me his memories.”
“Sure. Because Lord knows you wouldn’t want to form your own opinions, or learn something your father doesn’t already know. Or maybe you agreed with me about our cultural stagnation just to get into my bed?”
I glared at her. I hated when she was right. But for some reason I hated it even more when she was disappointed …
“… in me, Father,” Daniel said, and leaned back from the chessboard, arms crossed. “Why can’t you be happy for me?”
“Because,” I said, studying the board. I had him in six moves, but only because once again he’d tried some wild, improvised strategy rather than following any of the dozen or more established responses to my opening moves. “She’s a pleb with a record, Son. You marry her, and you’ll never pass a justice nomination review.”
“There’s more important things than being a justice,” Daniel said. “Especially when the name has become a joke.”
I looked up sharply. Heat climbed my neck and burned my face, but I’d learned on the bench—over several lifetimes—to maintain control and an even tone during an argument. “And that is a perfect example of what I said. She’s already filling your head with plebian nonsense. If you hadn’t inherited your mother’s rebellious nature—”
“Actually, Father, I got my opinions from you. Before you took Grandfather’s memories. Before Mom left. Do you remember reading The Scarlet Pimpernel to me when I was a kid and—”
“So you think my time would be better spent playing a fop by day, and by night wearing a mask and rescuing aristocrats?”
“No!” Daniel stood and began pacing. “That’s not what I meant. I—”
“Then you should choose your examples better. If you wish to win an argument—”
“This isn’t a legal case, Father, or a debate! I’m not trying to win. I’m trying to make you understand.”
“Then make me understand. What point were you trying to make? If the Pimpernel is a bad example, then give me a good one.”
“Father, please. I just—”
“How about Robin Hood? Perhaps justices should act like some kind of thief, and undermine our whole system?” I shook the chessboard, causing pieces to tumble and crash into one another. “Should we redistribute wealth from the people who keep this nation working to …”
“… so-called plebian deviants,” Miss Ginsberg said to the students gathered in her basement. Every single pleb there listened intently. I couldn’t imagine how their families found the money to get them into this private class, but clearly they intended to make the most of it.
“Mr. Blakely.” Ginsberg looked at me. “I believe your father just tried a theft case where he refused even to hear arguments of extenuating circumstances. Perhaps you’d like to share with the class your view on this, using the section on strain theory to make your argument?”
I looked around the room at all the faces turned to me now. Nobody enjoyed receiving Ginsberg’s focus, but there was little sympathy …
… in their faces as the three justices listened to my client make his statement. My client was a pleb, and a dago wop to boot. He was as good as convicted given the doubly delinquent tendencies inherent to his kind. I glanced at Anthony. He looked rough, to be sure, more likely to be facing assault charges than conspiracy. But I’d seen his inventions. They were ingenious. If I could just find a way to make the justices see the benefits of the man serving his sentence through work release, or community service. I just needed to find the right …
… argument. It seemed like Alice and I were arguing every day now, every day since I’d received Father’s memories. She was so afraid they’d change me that she now imagined seeing changes that weren’t there. Why couldn’t she just …
“… understand,” I said, staring down at Daniel’s gravestone. “Please forgive me, son.”
I received no response, not even a sudden stirring of the cherry blossoms that I could take as a sign. Daniel would never answer me again, never again hear me tell him I loved him. All because some pleb kid I’d sent to prison for stealing medicine, that I’d sought to make an example of to all the druggies, emerged ten years later as a hardened killer seeking payback for the death of his father that the medicine was meant to prevent.
“What can I do?” I asked the cold marble. “My hands are tied by precedent, by the votes of the other justices, by my choices. I—” I sounded as if I were writing a legal response. I rubbed at my eyes. “Maybe you were right. Maybe we need a Robin Hood, someone dealing true justice.”
The cherry blossoms whispered …
The memories unfolded with increasing speed, as though my mind raced down a tunnel filled with lights. Memories of classes, of tests, of cases. Grandfather’s memories of my father laughing and crying, playing and sleeping, as a child and a young man. Memories of Father alive. Memories of his death. Then I burst out of the tunnel, and bright daylight flooded my mind’s eye.
I understood. I understood the laws, and the system they supported. I understood its strengths. I understood its weak points.
I understood my grandfather.
And I understood why he’d never given us help.
“He’d wanted me to live as a pleb,” I muttered, my eyes squeezed closed.
“What?” Mother asked.
“Nothing.” I opened my eyes, and slid the book out from beneath the photos. An old copy of The Scarlet Pimpernel.
My eyes were drawn to the flower on Jennie’s lapel, then to her face.
A League of the Pimpernel, Jennie. But with a different purpose. My son’s purpose.
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She smiled, seeing my understanding. “When you’re ready, I shall give you a tour of the estates. I think you’ll find your grandfather left you many interesting … toys.”
Anthony’s toys.
I saw my father’s face then, my father as a young boy while Grandfather read Robin Hood to him—grinning and eager for the next adventure.
“Actually,” I said, “bring me Tony. We need to talk.”
Grandfather’s vision was to go after those who oppressed the plebs, those who treated people like disposable pawns, by knocking down the worst kings and queens of society one at a time. But I had a better idea.
I would find a way to transfer memory without destroying the original. I would become a mind healer to the world.
And then, we’d shake up the whole damn board.
A Word on the Art Direction
by Stephen Hickman
Stephen Hickman has been illustrating science fiction and fantasy for four decades. His work is inspired by the masters of fantasy and science fiction writing—J.R.R. Tolkien, H.P. Lovecraft, A. Merritt, Edgar Rice Burroughs and Clark Ashton Smith.
His illustrations have been used as cover work for many contemporary writers: Harlan Ellison, Robert Heinlein, Steven Brust, Hal Colbatch, Tom Cool, Gordon Dickson, David Drake, Neil Gaiman, Mark Van Name, Anne McCaffrey, Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle, Andre Norton and Steve Stirling, among others.
Stephen’s work has earned him critical acclaim, including a World Science Fiction Convention Hugo Award and six Chesley Awards from the Association of Science Fiction and Fantasy Artists.
Stephen has been a judge for the Illustrators of the Future Contest since 2005, and this year he art directed each of the winning illustrators on their pieces appearing in this volume.
A Word on the Art Direction
Though I’ve made art my living for forty years, and have been asked for advice times beyond counting, this is my first official gig as an art director. However, as soon as I was asked to take this on, I knew how I wanted to go about the task.
My career arc has been unique in that it so happened that much of the time I was completely on my own as far as coming up with the ideas for the work I was getting paid for— from T-shirts to book covers and private commissions… In retrospect, I feel like I was a sort of Mowgli in the jungle of illustration. But I learned that I did by far the best work when I really put my heart into what I was doing.
So— my plan became simple: first, I would refrain from selecting the worst sketch that was submitted to me (two of my early art directors invariably did this, until I started sending in one sketch at a time).
Second, wherever it was at all possible, I would let the artist go with whichever idea they felt most strongly about.
As it happened, the artists made this plan easy to put into effect. Most of them knew just what they wanted to do, and in every single case these artists responded positively to any advice that I offered.
So my first stint at art directing turned out to be a good, even a novel experience— it was interesting for me to be able to watch how these vastly different artists evolve their illustrations from the first sketchy beginnings to the finished pieces. Now I can retire in contentment, and get back to my own work.
And to the artists in this book, it was a pleasure working with you on these illustrations!
List of Illustrations by Artist
Cassandre Bolan
Beneath the Surface of Two Kills
The Pushbike Legion
Adam Brewster
Beyond All Weapons
Long Jump
Vincent-Michael Coviello
Carousel
The Shaadi Exile
Kirbi Fagan
The Clouds in Her Eyes
Vanessa Golitz
Memories Bleed Beneath the Mask
Kristie Kim
What Moves the Sun and Other Stars
Seonhee Lim
Animal
Bernardo Mota
These Walls of Despair
Andrew Sonea
Rainbows for Other Days
Robots Don’t Cry
Trevor Smith
Giants at the End of the World
Michael Talbot
Shifter
Sarah Webb
Another Range of Mountains
The Year in the Contests
In 2013, the Writers and Illustrators of the Future Contests continued their broad growth, with both Contests receiving more entries than ever before. Entrants to the Contests came from over 168 countries, and our actual winners, including honorable mentions, are represented by writers and illustrators from more than three dozen nations.
From the very first volume of Writers of the Future, past winners have distinguished themselves in ongoing careers. In just the past year, those winners have published 45 novels and more than 200 short stories. In addition, they—along with past artist winners and Contest judges—have racked up an astonishing number of awards, honors and nominations.
From the earliest winners to the most recent participants, including artists and judges, here is the impressive array of honors.
Karen Joy Fowler (Vol. 1) was nominated for the 2013 Nebula Award for Best Novel. Also from Vol. 1, winner and Contest Judge Nina Kiriki Hoffman was under consideration for the Locus Award for Best Collection, as was Contest Judge Robert Silverberg.
Robert Reed (Vol. 2) took third place in the 2013 Sturgeon Awards, while Contest Judge Frederik Pohl won the Sturgeon Award for Distinguished Service. Reed also competed with himself in the category for Best Novella in the Locus Awards, with three of his novellas under consideration, and in addition joined the already crowded field of nominations for the Locus Award for Best Collection.
Mary Turzillo (Vol. 4) was a finalist for the Bram Stoker Award for Best Horror Poetry Collection.
The 2012 Goodreads Choice Award for Best Science Fiction went to Stephen Baxter (Vol. 5), in collaboration with Terry Pratchett, for the novel The Long Earth. Baxter was also nominated for the Locus Award for Best Collection.
Winner and Artist Judge Shaun Tan (Vol. 8) was a finalist for a Locus Award for Best Artist. In addition, Tan was a finalist for the Aurealis Award from Australia for Best Children’s Book and for the 2014 Spectrum Fantastic Art Award, along with Omar Rayyan (also Vol. 8).
Alan Smale (Vol. 13) was among the nominees for the Locus Award for Best Novella.
Contest winner Tobias Buckell (Vol. 16) was nominated for the Locus Award for Best Novel for his Arctic Rising , while artist winner Frank Wu (also Vol. 16) was nominated for the Locus Award for Best Artist. Other nominees in the category of Best Novel were Contest Judges Gregory Benford and Larry Niven, who collaborated on Bowl of Heaven and Larry Niven and Edward M. Lerner, also in collaboration, for Fate of Worlds.
Lee Battersby (Vol. 18) was a finalist for the Australian Aurealis Award for Best Horror Novel for The Marching Dead.
Ken Liu (Vol. 19) won the Nebula for Best Short Story with “Mono no Aware,” and was nominated for a Nebula for Best Novelette as well as a finalist for the Locus Award for Best Short Story. Ken additionally won the WSFA Small Press Award for his story “Good Hunting.” Jay Lake (also Vol. 19) was nominated for a Hugo for “The Stars Do Not Lie” and was a finalist and nominee for the Locus Award for Best Novella. The 2013 Lifeboat to the Stars Award was won by the novel Tau Ceti, written by Contest Judge Kevin J. Anderson in collaboration with winner Steven Savile (Vol. 19) and edited by Judge Mike Resnick.
Aliette de Bodard (Vol. 23) accumulated an impressive array of awards and nominations, including the Nebula Award for Best Novella for her short story “Immersi
on.” She was also a nominee for the Hugo for Best Novella and Best Short Story. She also won the Locus Award for Best Short Story, was finalist for the Locus Award for Best Novella, nominated for the Locus Best Short Story Award and was recognized by the British Science Fiction Society in the Best Short Fiction category.
Ian McHugh (Vol. 24) was a finalist for the Aurealis Award for Best Fantasy in Short Fiction.
Artist Douglas Bosley (Vol. 25) was the first-place winner of the 2013 National Society of Arts and Letters Printmaking Award.
K.C. Ball (Vol. 26) was nominated for the Locus Award for Best Novella. Jingxuan Hu (also Vol. 26) won the Public Choice Prize in the final awards to winners of the ArtGemini Prize 2013.
The 2013 Apex Magazine Story of the Year Winner was Brian Trent (Vol. 29). And last year’s grand prize-winning author Tina Gower won the 2013 Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense for her story “Identity.”
Contest Judge Tim Powers was a finalist for the Locus Award for his fantasy novel Hide Me Among the Graves, while Contest Judges Vincent Di Fate, Bob Eggleton, Frank Frazetta, Leo and Diane Dillon were all nominated for the Locus Award for Best Artist. Contest Judge Stephan Martiniere was nominated for Best Art Book for Velocity and a finalist for Best Artist.
The 2013 Scribe Award for best adapted novel was won by Judge Kevin J. Anderson for Clockwork Angels.
The winner of Canada’s Aurora Lifetime Achievement Award went to Judge Robert J. Sawyer, who was also nominated for Triggers for Best Novel in English.
For the Chesley Awards, Illustrator Judge Bob Eggleton was nominated for Best Cover Illustration for hardback, Best Magazine Cover and Best Interior Illustration. Judge Larry Elmore was nominated for Best Monochrome and for the Lifetime Achievement Award.
Awards are not all the honors reaped by our winners. For example, Patrick Rothfuss’s (Vol. 18) bestselling Kingkiller Chronicle series was optioned for film by Twentieth Century Fox, while Jason Fischer (Vol. 26) is the first Contest winner to have his story written as an opera libretto.