Interview: Michael J. Foy

Today I have an interview with science fiction author Michael J. Foy. His new novel Ghosts of Forgotten Empires, Volume 1 is now available both in print and as an eBook and can be purchased here.

***

Tell us a bit about your new novel, Ghosts of Forgotten Empires, Volume 1.

Well it’s kind of like a Sci-Fi Mystery Thriller Romance. But seriously it is a mash up of genres but it’s mainly Sci-Fi. The hero comes by some alien technology left over from an ancient interstellar war that he has to employ in a new cold war since the other side came by it too.

What inspired the idea for the novel?

A couple of things. It’s actually the novelization of a screenplay that I optioned to Hollywood about 20 years ago. It was called False Gods but never made it to the big screen. I’ve updated it and tweaked it where it would be fair to say it’s now a stand-alone sequel to my first book Future Perfect.

Can you elaborate on the role Star Trek plays in Ghosts of Forgotten Empires?

The hero, Cord Devlin, is a devoted fan of the show. He drives his handler crazy by citing it all the time. But the lessons from the show come in handy when trying to put the bizarre happenings in the story in perspective.

Like you, science fiction also plays a big role in my life. Are there any science fiction writers who have influenced you either stylistically or in terms of ideas? Any non-science fiction writers who you would consider influential?

You mean other than Michael K. Rose? ;-) But there are others too. I liked the early Asimov stuff like Foundation of course. And then I like some lesser known Sci-Fi authors like Julian May and Fred Saberhagen.

For non-Sci-Fi, I liked Robert Ludlum who wrote the Jason Bourne series and liked Clive Cussler’s older books like Raise the Titanic.

What's in store for Volume 2?

Cord will find out more about the ancient interstellar war that touched Earth. And he’ll find it out from an unlikely source, his uncle Jamie McCord. In the process he’ll discover some family secrets that his mother, his only surviving parent, kept from him. He’ll need the information to survive and overcome his enemies on the other side of the Cold War.

***

Michael J Foy was born to Irish immigrants in upstate New York. At 4 and then again at 12 years old his parents moved the family to London for a year before returning to the U.S. and permanently settling in the Boston area. Michael graduated Northeastern University in 1979 with an engineering degree and worked in that profession until 1992. In 1993 he changed careers and became a recruiter servicing the publishing industry. He founded Publishing Search Solutions in 1997 where he has worked with various clients including special assignments outside of the media industry.

Since college Michael harbored the desire to write science fiction. In 1991 he sold an option for his first novel, False Gods, as a screenplay to Timothy Bogart the nephew of Peter Guber, Producer of Batman. Tim's California based production company adapted material for the big and small screens.

Michael has since published the Science Fiction novels Future Perfect, The Kennedy Effect and Ghosts of Forgotten Empires, Volume 1. 

You can visit him at his blog here.

Review: Dolphin Island by Arthur C. Clarke

Yes, I am reading a lot of Arthur C. Clarke lately. I had begun Dolphin Island after finishing Garden of Rama. I couldn't find Rama Revealed at the local used bookstore, so I ordered it online and, being in a Clarke mood already, plucked this off my shelf to tide me over (sorry) because it was fairly short.

As fate would have it, Rama Revealed arrived later the same day, and I put Dolphin Island down so I could finish the Rama series (see my review here). When I picked Dolphin Island back up again, I was transported into a world of wonder and adventure.

What I didn't know when I began this book is that it is a young adult adventure novel. It takes place in the near future, as envisioned from 1963. The main character is a teenage boy named Johnny who hitches a ride on a hovership to escape his dreary home life. When the engines of the hovership explode over open water, Johnny is left stranded, floating on a piece of debris.

He is saved by a group of dolphins who pull him to an island on the Great Barrier Reef called, appropriately, Dolphin Island, where a biologist, Professor Kazan, has been experimenting with communicating with dolphins and has, as it turns out, had quite a lot of success with it.

I don't want to reveal too much about the plot, but the story progresses at a pretty good clip from that point onward, and Clarke's experience as a diver lends authenticity to the descriptions of the animals inhabiting the reef around the island. And as far as young adult adventure novels go, this one is quite good. It captured my imagination and, even though I left my childhood behind long ago, it made me yearn for sandy beaches, coral reefs and exotic locales where a new adventure is waiting around every corner.

I give it 4 out of 5 stars. It's a very short book and is pure escapist fun. While it seems to be currently out of print, used copies can be had for just a few bucks if you can find it. There are many other Arthur C. Clarke novels I'd recommend reading before Dolphin Island, but if you've already read his more popular works and are a fan, this one is definitely worth a look.

Image Source: Dolphin Underwater by Bobbi Jones Jones

Review: Rendezvous with Rama by Arthur C. Clarke

Some of you may know that Arthur C. Clarke is my favorite science fiction author. It may seem strange that it's taken me this long to read Rendezvous with Rama, but it happened that over the years I had collected two of the other Rama books but never the first so hadn't begun the series. When I happened across it in a used book store the other day, I snatched it up.

The premise of the novel is this: a 50-kilometer long cylindrical space ship enters our solar system, giving the first proof humanity has that they are not alone in the Universe. A ship, The Endeavour, is scrambled to rendezvous with it and, if possible, enter the ship. Time, however, is limited, because as it approaches the Sun and perihelion, no one knows if it will change course and establish itself in orbit around the Sun or slingshot around it, sending it back into interstellar space.

Many of Clarke's most famous works deal with first contact: 2001: A Space Odyssey, Childhood's End, and this novel. Like the monolith in 2001, no one knows if the ship Rama is under direct control of those who created it or if it is now acting on its own, completing a program that was set in motion eons ago, the writers of that program having long since died out.

2001 answers this question, if not for humanity at large, then at least for Dave Bowman as he is transported through the stargate. In Rendezvous with Rama, the question is never answered. Even after the crew of The Endeavour enter Rama and watch it begin to "come alive," they are left not knowing if the Ramans themselves are still present, or even if they can and will be recreated by the ship, as they assume the biological machines that begin to appear have been created from base elements present in a body of water that rings the center of the ship.

In the introduction to Rama II, which I have already begun reading, Clarke mentions that he didn't originally plan a sequel. The purpose of Rama and what it meant for humanity was meant to be left open; it was meant for each reader to decide for him- or herself. I know that a lot of readers are unhappy when a book ends without closure but I personally love it. Perhaps as a writer I am more likely to continue the story in my own mind than non-writers. And I think that the highest purpose of art is not to answer questions but to ask them.

Rendezvous with Rama is highly satisfying both artistically and as a work of entertainment. There is, after all, a reason it won both the Hugo and Nebula awards, the two most prestigious awards in science fiction. As I read Rama II and the rest of the series, I will be anxious to find out if the way I answered the questions asked in Rendezvous with Rama is the same way Clarke and his co-author, Gentry Lee have chosen to answer them if, indeed, they answer them at all. But knowing Clarke, I feel that he will continue to surprise me and leave me, as always, asking questions.

5/5 stars and enthusiastically recommended!

Update: See my review of the rest of the Rama series here.

Image: Public Domain, downloaded from Wikipedia. (Source)

An Interview with Scott Fitzgerald Gray

Today, I am very pleased to share this interview I conducted with Scott Fitzgerald Gray, author of the science fiction novel We Can Be Heroes (see the SpecFicPick Book Feature here). Scott describes himself as a specially constructed biogenetic simulacrum built around an array of experimental consciousness-sharing techniques—a product of the finest minds of Canadian science until the grant money ran out. Accidentally set loose during an unauthorized midnight rave at the lab, the S.F. Gray entity is currently at large amongst an unsuspecting populace, where his work as an author, screenwriter, editor, RPG designer, and story editor for feature film keeps him off the streets.

Michael K. Rose: Scott, I'd like to start by asking a question I ask the writers I interview for my webzine SpecFicPick. I know you already answered it when I interviewed you for the site in July, but I'd like to ask it again because I think it offers a fantastic insight into not only the mind of a particular writer, but into the shared culture of speculative fiction writers: What role do you believe speculative fiction plays in society?

Scott Fitzgerald Gray: I mostly just repeat what people far smarter than me have already said in response to this question, which is that speculative fiction is a literature of unrestricted ideas. SF is a place where literally any question can be asked dramatically—questions of technology, sociology, culture, ethics, morality—with the ramifications and repercussions of those questions generating new questions in the reader. A kind of catalytic cycle of ideas and philosophy, as it were. When I answered the same question on the site in July, I mentioned how the use of “speculative fiction” as opposed to “science fiction” sums up my own personal take on the genre, which at its best is about wrapping the live wires of raw ideas in the protective sheath of narrative so that we can grab onto them without killing ourselves. Speculative fiction is an exchange of raw ideas and unbridled imagination, and shows us how to map those ideas onto the framework of human experience. There's absolutely nothing wrong with analyzing or exposing the big questions of life through philosophy or history or sociology or any other strictly academic pursuit. But in the end, academic analysis can rarely hit us in the heart like speculative fiction can—and it's when we get hit in the heart that we really start to care about things.

MKR: I, too, am drawn to speculative fiction because of it's ability to act as a catalyst for ideas. I believe that if we want our society to continue in a generally positive direction, we need more literature that does this as opposed to the generally meaningless pop fiction that seems to dominate the bestsellers lists. Do you think it is the responsibility of all writers to hit someone "in the heart," as you say? How much room should we allow for those who only want to entertain? In other words, what would be your ideal ratio for meaningful fiction versus entertaining pop fiction?

SFG: I don’t have a problem with people who want to write solely to entertain, or with people whose purpose in reading is just to be entertained. But I think stories that pack a real emotional punch are invariably better stories than those that shoot for mere entertainment—and as writers, I think we should all be obsessed with telling the best possible stories. I don’t view it merely as a social or intellectual obligation. To me, there’s never been a conflict between stories that entertain and stories rich in meaning and ideas, because I think the best stories do both. Whether you’re talking about George R.R. Martin or Frank Herbert, André Norton or Marion Zimmer Bradley, Hemingway or Joseph Conrad, there’s a vast field of popular writers whose works manage to marry exciting narrative and bold ideas, and those are the writers whose creative example I desperately try to follow.

Having said that, though, I’m not sure that there is an optimal ratio, just because the balance really depends on the story. As an example, it’s interesting to think about The Lord of the Rings and the films based on that novel. A book like The Lord of the Rings is necessarily built on the intellectual foundations of its historical backstory. Without that backstory, it’s hard to imagine the book being as amazing as it is. But at the same time, the films were forced to dispense with a lot of that backstory strictly because of time constraints, yet the films still managed to create a story that’s emotionally compelling in its own way.

MKR: I fully agree with you that the best stories contain both elements. However, it is my opinion that (unfortunately) much of what is "popular" is geared almost exclusively for entertainment as opposed to delivering meaningful ideas. As a writer, do you find yourself intentionally trying to insert meaning into your work, or does it happen naturally? Do you give serious thought to elements like themes and motifs?

SFG: Full (and equally unfortunate) agreement. But from my perspective, I think it’s important to say that I don’t think it’s all that much harder to write emotionally compelling, thoughtful, character-driven fiction than it is to write fiction that’s just entertaining. I think some writers might believe otherwise, though, and I think writers are sometimes reluctant to dig deeper into their stories because they’ve gotten used to simply writing on the surface. Delivering meaningful ideas in fiction is really just a matter of wanting to explore those meaningful ideas. As writers, if we have the will to push a story, the story will respond.

As far as analyzing the process by which I cram meaning into my own work, I’m not sure that “intentionally” is as apt a word as “compulsively.” It’s not like I craft a story and then look for places to nail down the thematic elements and the big ideas and the deeper character story. Those elements just kind of come together in the process of digging into the story. Sometimes you start out with an idea or theme that you know you want to explore, whether it be something like emotional loss, the perspective of madness, political allegory, or what have you. But sometimes you just start out with raw plot and the inclination to tell a story that’s exciting and memorable—only to discover that themes and motifs you never expected to focus on have woven themselves into the work and demand that you address them. One of the things I’m very evangelistic about as a writer is outlining, and I think that my own process of outlining has a lot to do with how my stories unfold and expand on different levels. Working on an outline, I feel like I’m working with story at its most primal, and it’s easy to see themes and motifs unfold at that level of raw narrative energy.

MKR: Can you tell me a bit about your most recent work, We Can Be Heroes, and the meaningful ideas you compulsively explore in it?

SFG: LOL, etc. But the new book is actually a pretty good example, because it was a story in which I both started with some specific themes I wanted to explore, then found myself exploring new things in the course of the writing that I hadn’t expected to. Without giving too much away, one of the Big Points in the book is to examine the notion of what it means to be truly alive versus what it means to just go through the motions of life. What is human versus what only appears to be human—which is a concept I hope a lot of people know because it’s a big part of the work of Philip K. Dick, and his books were a huge inspiration for We Can Be Heroes. Not in the sense that I think the book feels in any way like a PKD novel, but because my inspiration for that underlying theme came about as a response to his work, and to parallel questions raised by William Gibson in Neuromancer. But even as I knew from the get-go that those ideas were ones I wanted to explore in the story, I discovered that as the story took shape, I was inspired to dig a lot more into personal themes of isolation, alienation, and love than I had originally intended.

In its earliest outline-level incarnation, the story was more focused on the action/adventure side of things. And though there’s still plenty of that in the book, and though the characters were strong enough in the original concept, the character story got stronger as I reworked the outline and the writing eventually kicked into gear. A couple of the darker plot points and the mechanics of the relationships between the characters were things that came very late to the narrative mix, because I discovered that the more things I threw at the characters, the more resilient they were forced to become and the stronger their story became. There’s a line very near the front of the book (in the chapter that relates the significance of the title) that talks about living in a world in which telling someone you love them is the bravest thing you’ll ever do. That became one of the key meaningful ideas in the book, and was one of the last parts of the book I wrote, and I would never have predicted at the outset that it would have become as important an idea as it did.

MKR: Thank you for your great answers, Scott. Is there anything else you'd like to mention or links you’d  like to share?

SFG: Thanks to you for the questions, and for the chance to prattle on. As far as links to share, I’d be cementing my reputation as the worst self-promoter on earth if I didn't mention my website as a good place to go for more info on my writing and other projects (including an extended free sample of We Can Be Heroes. But for more useful information of benefit to the struggling writer, I’m a big fan of the collective of voices that is the AmWriting blog (to which I’m an occasional contributor), Phil Athans’ Fantasy Writer’s Handbook, David Farland’s Writing Tips, and Chuck Wendig’s TerribleMinds. I don’t think there’s ever been a better time to be a part of the community of writers, and particularly the community of fantasists. Being able to share the experience of, and the ideas underlying, a book like We Can Be Heroes is a huge treat, so thanks.

Being Garrulous (again) with Benjamin X. Wretlind (Part 2)

This is the second part of a conversation between author Benjamin X. Wretlind and myself. Please see Part 1 here.

---

MKR: Besides leaving a legacy through your writing, is there anyone you hope to inspire? Is there any message you hope to convey, any ideas you want to put out into the world?

BXW: I think you touched on a sort of running theme when you interviewed me way back when. I like to say people are the sum total of their experience and if we just look at the outside, we'll never really understand them. That often leads to stereotypes, discrimination and even bullying. For example, in each sketch in my novel Sketches from the Spanish Mustang, there is one man who is seen through the eyes of each character.  Most assume he's a crazy nut, a homeless man who talks to himself.  However, there's a very long history to that man--war vet, disabled, wife and child, etc.  Why does he act in a particular way, and why does he appear the same, yet different, in strangers' eyes?

I used to think people were generally bad. There was no good in them, so why bother to understand them. The older I get, however, the more I've started to see each person as that sum total of their history.  If that's the case, if I interact with that person don't I become another summand in their equation?  Shouldn't I want to instill something of value to their present?

I do have a lot to say on this subject, but I'll leave it at that right now.  For your part in writing science fiction, what do you want people to see in your characters? Do you have a central theme you're running off right now?

MKR: When one is a child, it seems that everything and everyone is good and beautiful. Sadly, some children learn too soon that that is not the case, like Maggie, in Castles. I think that as we age the misery in the world overshadows the beauty of it. We may remember a beautiful spring day for a short while, but we'll really remember the tornado that took out ten houses the next block over and swept a family of four into oblivion. A kindness done to us by a fellow human being may linger in our memory for a day, but an act of vicious cruelty can haunt us for a lifetime. I fully understand, then, the inclination to see people as inherently evil, especially considering the influence of Christianity on our culture that very explicitly states that the reason we no longer reside in Paradise is because of our wickedness. And it was this view of humanity as inherently base, as our bodies essentially worthless when weighed against the immortal soul, that led to the terrible conditions of Medieval Europe during which most everyone's life was "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short," to quote Thomas Hobbes. And the worst part was, that was accepted!

In my view, it really took Enlightenment thinking, humanism and deism, to introduce to the Western world the idea that every human life has worth, every human being deserves to live peacefully and free of oppression. Here was an idea that if there is no immortal soul, if this body, this life, is all we have, how can any one of us justify bringing misery to another human being? We still haven't achieved the ideal of the Enlightenment but we are much closer and at least now the goal is there, where before there was only doom and gloom.

I love your view of human interaction. Yes, we each play a part in the lives of everyone else we encounter. Some of these roles may seem trivial but suppose it is something as simple as smiling at a stranger who looks sad? We may have brought a little joy, a little hope, to that person. We must always attempt to give value to one another's lives rather than take value from them. This is the foundation for forming a more-ideal society.

Now, after all that, I will answer your question. I realize I do go on. You asked "...in writing science fiction, what do you want people to see in your characters? Do you have a central theme you're running off right now?" In Sullivan's War, I hope that readers go away asking two very simple questions: what makes a man good? and what makes a man bad? This is touched on in Book I but explored in more depth in Book II. I don't have an answer for that. I am reminded of the difference between morality and ethics: if one is moral in the Christian sense, one does not lie. So, if one were living in Nazi Germany and a Jew ran by followed by the SS who asked which way he went, you would have to tell them the truth to remain moral. But if you are to be ethical, you must lie and send them in the wrong direction. I know situational ethics get a bad rep and I do believe there are universal ethical laws, just as there are universal physical laws. But it's something to think about. To whom do you owe your ethical fealty?

Another idea I explore in Sullivan's War is that of justification. Is it acceptable to do a "bad" thing if it ultimately leads to a greater good? In your stories, it seems your characters engage in an awful lot of justification but of a more personal, selfish kind. This also interests me. We seem to be able to justify an awful lot if it serves our own greater good. Counteracting this is one of the key challenges of society, I think. Is this a theme you have intentionally been exploring in Sketches from the Spanish Mustang?

BXW: I don't know if that internal justification is a subconscious result of turning 40, but Sketches from the Spanish Mustang is filled with it. I'd like to think I've been impervious to middle age, but the more I write, the more I realize I'm probably not. I really enjoy exploring a character's inner child, what makes them who they are. In A DifficultMirror, which I started when I turned 28, actually, the history of a person is forced out in the open and how they deal with whatever mistakes they've made is explored in depth.  That's dark fantasy, however, not reality. In reality, we all have our skeletons, our histories we hide away so no one can see.  However, no matter what we do, we are the sum total of our parts and we can either accept what we've done or try to justify it in some way. 

As I sit here talking about this, I realized that the characters in my upcoming novel Driving the Spike must justify their actions. Are they good, are they bad? Much like you explored in Sullivan'sWar, there is a difference between morality and ethics. Did you start out with that theme before you penned the first word of Sullivan's War or did it come out as you wrote it?

MKR: It evolved. Sullivan's War started as the story about Frank Allen investigating the murder of Assemblyman Gene Palmer. From there it got tied in to Sergeant Riley's Account, then a third story I had written called "Promises," the story of a bounty hunter tracking down a criminal, got incorporated into the beginning of Sullivan's War: Book II. Now, early on I must have decided that Sullivan's War would address these issues of right and wrong because the title All Good Men Serve the Devil was there from nearly the beginning. I actually wrote out a bit of dialogue to incorporate that line before I got to that scene in the book. By the time Book I was finished, however, I felt that it was heavy on action but character development and exploration of theme were a bit lacking. I attempted to correct that with Book II.

My next project, Chrysopteron, started a bit aimlessly but as I wrote the overarching theme began to reveal itself. It was at that point that I wrote an outline to make sure I hit on all the thematic points I wanted to address: hope, loss, faith, sacrifice, right and wrong (again). I ended up shuffling the organization a bit and added another story line but the thematic structure remained intact. I hope readers will pick up on it and appreciate what I am trying to do. Of course, the reader applies additional meaning based on his or her own perceptions. I think the best authors are able to convey their own meaning but be subtle enough about it that the reader happens upon it without explicitly being told. But I guess some readers will completely miss the point, no matter what you do. Do you worry that readers will completely miss the point of your work? Do you care, as long as they pull some meaning from it? Or are you even content for your work to be perceived as just an interesting story, with the reader taking nothing away?

BXW: I really don't worry about what readers get out of my novels, as long as they get something.  There's a meme that's been passed around regarding meaning that you've probably seen.  "What the author meant" vs. "What your English teacher thinks the author meant."  While I can laugh at the simplicity of the author's statement ("The curtains were blue") and the teacher's meaning ("The curtains represent his immense depression and his lack of will to carry on"), I find this meme more telling of what literary snobs think we should get from a novel.  For example, if the New York Times says Castles reeks of abuse and discord, then to me they didn't get it.  Conversely, if the Colorado Springs Gazette says Castles is a view into the growth of a woman through abuse and neglect and carefully questions how environment can affect genetic mutations in the brain, then I think they're pretty close.  Now, what do my readers come away with?  I would hope the literary snobs don't mutate my message, and I hope I write it clear enough that it sinks in with the masses.

I've been very focused on the themes presented in Sketchesfrom the Spanish Mustang. As I mentioned before, it's important to me that I impart the idea that people are the sum total of their days and not just a present manifestation with or without obvious merit.  I do worry the message won't reach the reader, but all I can do is try.

Do you ever worry?

MKR: Do I worry about the message not reaching the reader? I wouldn't say I worry, per se, but I do make a point of writing afterwords for my major works. I do this not so the readers "gets it" but because I want to communicate with the readers on a more personal level. I want them to know what went into creating the story, the inspirations, etc. I think that knowing these things does enrich a text.

I like how the focus of much of your work is trying to make the point that a person is the sum of his or her experiences. It's a profound message, and yet so simple. For example, I am the product of very fortunate circumstances. Because of where and when and to whom I was born, I have been able to cultivate a life of ease and comfort in which I can spend a great deal of my time writing, reading, traveling, focusing on art, philosophy, etc. rather than worrying about where my next meal is going to come from. Reading about the problems that the characters in Sketches from the Spanish Mustang face really reinforces how good my life is, how petty my problems.

Do you think that you are trying to point humanity (or America, at least) in a different direction? Do you want readers to go away thinking that if people are the sum of their experiences, perhaps society as a whole could do something to make some of those experiences more positive? Or is it up to individuals to engage one another and help their fellow human beings along?

BXW: Afterwords are often my favorite part of a book, and I really enjoy reading them.  James Rollins typically puts in a fact or fiction section at the end based on his research.  I know it sounds petty, but that's cool.

I really never thought my writing could point America or the world toward any lofty goal, however I would like to reach at least one person.  It's very important I leave a mark on someone's life, whether or not that's with Sketches from the Spanish Mustang, Castles, the upcoming A Difficult Mirror or the next novel I'll start working on this summer.  That next novel--Driving the Spike--is probably going to be the closet I get to pointing humanity at anything, but I sincerely doubt it'll have the lofty impact I want it to have.

I think there's something to be said about a person who engages another without expectation of reward, and even the smallest attempt to help another can make the biggest impact.  To help without expectation of reward, I truly believe, makes a man (or woman).  Most of us drop money into the Salvation Army bucket during the holiday season, but how many take a full Saturday and sort donations in a food bank warehouse or stand on a serving line at a soup kitchen or walk ten miles for autism research?  These things are small and there is no reward save the feeling you get for helping.  Sadly, there are a lot of people who don't look at life this way; they expect something tangible in return for their effort--getting paid to be a foster parent, getting a t-shirt from a MS walk, showing off some certificate from the two hours they did something for someone.  Helping shouldn't be like that.

I guess I got on my soapbox again. I tend to do that.

Being Garrulous (again) with Benjamin X. Wretlind(Part 1)

For those few of you who read Chewing the Cud in the Myriad Spheres, the previous conversation between Benjamin X. Wretlind and myself, here is another exciting installment! Due to its lack of brevity (which is chiefly my fault) we have decided to break it into two parts. Enjoy!

BXW: So I was reading over your latest blog post, Inventing a Universe, and a thought popped into my head: during the writing of Sketches from the Spanish Mustang I spent a great deal of time getting into the characters' heads, walking the paths they might take, looking at the town through their eyes.  Likewise, with the novel I intend to start this summer, Driving the Spike, I have already started the process by walking some railroad tracks where an accident occurred 108 years ago.   The idea, of course, is to see the world through the eyes of my characters.  However, with Science Fiction, especially with imagined worlds (or parallel universes like you discuss), how do you see the world though your character's eyes?

MKR: What I like to keep in mind is that people are people, whether they lived ten thousand years ago or ten thousand years from now. If I were a Clovis hunter following herds of mammoth across the Great Plains I think that, despite the vastly different way of life, my fellow hunters and I would sit around the campfire at night and shoot the breeze just as I do with my friends today. The technology would be different, our clothes, our language, our way of perceiving the universe would all be different but we would still be human beings. A heart not unlike mine would beat in the breast of my Clovis twin. I would want food, shelter, love, companionship. In the two hundred thousand years our species has wandered this Earth that has not changed and there is no reason to believe it will change in the near future.

Now, I have never taken down a mammoth with a spear. But I can imagine it. As a writer, imagination is key to understanding other people, people who eventually become "characters." Would it help if I could go back in time and see how a hunting party surrounded and felled a mammoth, where they jabbed their spears, how many of them it took? Of course. But I can't, so if I were to write a mammoth-hunting scene my imagination would fill in the blanks that the archaeological record has left behind. So it is with science fiction. When we write about the future we are not writing from a blank slate. We have all of human history to draw on to understand how human beings will react in different situations. For example, we know that we tend to be suspicious and aggressive when encountering intelligent beings not like ourselves (from history, we have the sad lesson of the Europeans' encounter with the indigenous Americans. In my fiction, look at the treatment of the Squamata in Sergeant Riley's Account and Sullivan's War: Book II.) Another example from history that I draw on is the simple fact that people generally want to be free of oppression. The entire Sullivan's War series is about this and how many times throughout history has a power structure has fallen due to the discontent of the oppressed? Here where I live in the Southwest, Hohokam civilization collapsed around 1400 CE and there are Pima legends that indicate that the people rose up against the powerful.

So writing science fiction is simply writing about people. I cannot see alien worlds or travel through hyperspace in a ship but my brain is capable of understanding what they might be like. My imagination can fill in the gaps left after taking the entire shared experience of human culture into account. I see their worlds because their eyes are like mine. I share their hopes and desires because those are common to all human beings across history. And my invented universe is not that different from our own, when you really examine it. There are real-life parallels to many of the things I write about.

Now, what I find interesting is that in Castles you described experiences unfamiliar to you despite the fact that those experiences are real for all too many young women across the country, across the world. For me, that is as remarkable a feat as bringing to life an alien landscape. We've talked about this before, but would you care to talk a bit about Maggie's story?

BXW: As I've mentioned before, I believe Maggie spoke through me in a way that's really hard to describe without coming off sounding--how should I put it?--bat-shit crazy.  The fact I squirrel away information that comes to me via media may have enabled my subconscious to postulate how a woman might view a certain situation more so than a man who is trying to force the character into action.  For example, I had a lot of trouble near the middle of the story related to Maggie's view of abuse at the hand of her boyfriend because that's just not something I'd ever experienced.  Somehow after a few months or years, though--and after dealing with abusive people as a manager--Maggie spoke up.

Getting into a character's head is important to me, and that's one reason I like to interact with their supposed environment if I can, and if I can't, then to spend an inordinate amount of time researching that environment. However, in A Difficult Mirror, a dark fantasy epic novel to be released (hopefully) next winter, I couldn't walk around the environment since it didn't exist.  Not that I couldn't take clues from other stories, but that the environment just didn't exist.  (That's a bit vague, I know, but the novel isn't out yet.)

You brought up something I'm curious about. I've mentioned to you before that I was never a huge fan of science fiction; that distinction fell to my brother. I was the fantasy type, the one who believed in dragons and wizards and spells, oh my!  However, some historic science fiction I've read has held a sort of special place in my heart simply because of the impact on our present.  I am, of course, talking about the work of Jules Verne, H.G. Wells, or Arthur C. Clarke.  Even Philip K. Dick. Their imaginations of technological advances helped pave the way for our present.  Writers like Ray Bradbury or George Orwell, on the other hand, wrote people into the future--much like you describe--and did so without the need to characterize or build up technology that didn't exist.

How do you view technology in your stories? How do you imagine worlds without borders or limitations, and do you hope to one day create something that would inspire some future geneticist or engineer?

MKR: Technology. Well, let me first point out that I am not technologically-minded at all. I am endlessly fascinated by it but if I had to actually try to describe how an intricate piece of software or hardware operated, I'd probably be trying to do it with sticks and a length of string. So, the technology in my stories isn't particularly original. I'll readily admit that. I rely on many tried and true tropes of the genre: hyperspace travel, energy weapons, fold-up tablet computers, three-dimensional displays. Now, since the Sullivan's War story line is supposed to take place about five hundred years in the future, this may seem like pretty low-tech stuff. I actually have a reason for this that will eventually reveal itself as I continue to explore this universe. I will just say that just because a technological advance is made doesn't mean it will be readily accepted.

I suppose I am comfortable with a certain level of technology, a level that has already been explored by many science fiction writers and is accepted and liked by a great many science fiction readers. Again, my own ignorance about technology prevents me from currently writing anything like cyberpunk. I just don't have the background to do it justice. So I really don't see my science fiction as the type that will inspire future engineers. Rather, I see my work as inspiring (if, in fact, it inspires anyone at all) future humanitarians, future philosophers. Remember, science fiction is about exploring how humans respond to fantastical situations as much as it is about inventing and describing cool technology. This is one of the reasons I consider 2001: A Space Odyssey to be my favorite book. Clarke had the scientific knowledge to make the technology one hundred percent plausible but the story is, essentially, about humanity. I mean, it begins with the dawn of consciousness, with the evolution (via external means in his story) of creatures that would one day become human beings! Because of his invented world of the near future, his characters--Dave Bowman in particular--are able to have experiences that no other humans have before experienced. How it affects them is just as fascinating as how future technology, such as the HAL 9000 computer, might work (or not work). How does the realization that an alien intelligence has visited our solar system affect them?

I often think about what would happen if we were to wake up one day and have undeniable proof that we were not alone in the universe. What effect would it have on world religions? I mean, in the 16th century Copernicus developed a heliocentric model of the solar system and while no one with any sense would deny the truth of this model today, there are many who still have a very geocentric, or Earth-centric, view of reality: that we, human beings, are at the center of God's divine plan, that, in fact, we are created in God's image and are his chosen species. Remember, it was only two thousand years ago that not only were humans God's chosen species on the planet, but a very specific group inhabiting the Levant were his chosen race. I speak from a Judeo-Christian perspective, of course, because it is the tradition that has most shaped the Western world. Now, this type of thinking has been used to justify and explain our dominance on this planet. But what if another, intellectually superior species managed to cross the vast distances between star systems and arrive at ours? God wouldn't seem to favor us so strongly then, would he?

I do believe in a creator. To believe in a specific god requires more faith than I have, though. I must trust that the creator, whatever it may be, gave me the ability--via evolution--to observe the world empirically for a reason. We are a species that is meant to question the world around us, not invent angels and devils to which to ascribe the mysteries of the universe. To return to my main point, this is my focus when I write science fiction. I hope to inspire future dreamers, people who will look at our world and see it for what it really is but also see what it can be if we throw off the shackles of tribe, of clan, of race, of nation, even of species. I know that to date my work hasn't explored this as fully as I would like but I am working toward it and my next project, Chrysopteron, will fully explore these ideas.

Read Part 2 here!

SULLIVAN'S WAR: BOOK III Arrives May 18!

Hello, all! I am very excited to officially announce that Sullivan's War: Book III - Edaline's Dawn will go live next Friday, May 18! The journey began in December with the release of the prologue to the series, Sergeant Riley's Account, and was followed by Book I in January and Book II in March. Combined, those books have received over twenty 4- and 5-star reviews and have been a nearly constant presence on Amazon's "Bestsellers in Science Fiction Series" list.

Book III sees the end of the Sullivan's War story line. Rick Sullivan will finally return to his home planet of Edaline and fight to free Edaline's people of their oppressive government. It will also reveal the fate of Frank Allen. And what of the bounty hunter Harvey? Will he continue to be a thorn in Sullivan's side? And what role do the mysterious hyperspace entities have to play in Sullivan's future?

To find out, get Sullivan's War: Book III - Edaline's Dawn next Friday! Please visit the Sullivan's War page on my official website for more information and for links to purchase Books I & II:

http://www.michaelkrose.com/sullivan-s-war

A Excerpt from Sullivan's War: Book II

Dear Friends,

Following this introduction is Chapter 1 of Sullivan's War: Book II - A City without Walls. If you like action-packed science fiction, you will love Sullivan's War! The series has been receiving rave reviews on Amazon and has been a regular inhabitant of Amazon's Bestsellers in Science Fiction Series list. If you enjoy this preview, please consider purchasing Book II from Amazon or Barnes & Noble (links here). If you've yet to read Book I, links to purchase it can be found here.

Best,

Michael

---

     Trenton was a miserable place.  So miserable that not even the corporate mining interests would touch it.  They had touched it at one time, briefly, just long enough to build a habitation and mining complex that covered twelve square kilometers.  And they had touched it just long enough to let two thousand men and women die when the planet’s highly unstable tectonic plates shifted, destroying a quarter of that complex as the planet’s surface split apart and lava flowed up through the fissure and into the streets.

     They could send automated machines, steel behemoths that could mine and process fifteen tons of rock per hour, but their accountants had convinced them that it wasn’t worth the risk.  The loss of a dozen machines would break any mining interest.  The loss of two thousand men had been quite a bit less costly.  No, there were other worlds to exploit.  It was best not to risk it.

     Because of this, all this and a dozen other reasons, Harvey cursed under his breath when he saw the tracking data on the stolen freighter.  It had left Damaris after Richard Sullivan had stolen it and, presumably, killed its owner, a freight runner named Oscar Jones.  Then the ship had disappeared.  It was only a matter of time before it would turn up again, though.  Harvey had been waiting ever since, waiting for a probe or any other passing ship to pick up the freighter’s identification signal.  It was finally detected by a private ship that had done a fly-by over Trenton.  They were sight-seeing, looking at the impressive lava flows, but when their ship flew within range of the freighter it had silently logged the ID signal, as was routine, then uploaded that information to Damaris’s planetary database upon its return.

     Harvey had flagged the ID signal and when the freighter’s location finally reached him he was ready to go within six hours.  He didn’t know what Sullivan was doing on that god-forsaken world but he hoped he’d still be doing it long enough for Harvey to find him.

     Harvey had cursed again when he and Ross arrived at Trenton.  He’d never been there but the sight was overwhelming.  It was a Mars-sized rock covered in a thick atmosphere.  It had boasted life a million years ago but now the tectonic shifts, the eruptions and the continent-wide lava flows had killed off all but the simplest of microbes.  It was technically a moon, not a planet, orbiting a gas giant that shared the same sun as Damaris.  Sullivan had not gone far.  It was clear he wanted to keep close to Damaris for some reason.  Harvey didn’t much care why.

     As Harvey’s ship dipped below the cloud layer and the forbidding surface came into view, a notice popped up on the screen in front of him.  The freighter’s ID signal had been detected.  Sullivan was still here, or at least the ship was.

     Harvey programmed the ship to touch down near the freighter.  “Alright,” he said, turning to Ross.  “You ready for this?”

     Ross, in response, tapped the firearm at his side and smiled.

     “Good.”  Harvey checked his own gear.  “But if we’re lucky, he’ll already be dead.  It would mean no bounty, but I have a bad feeling about this one.”

     Rebreathers weren’t absolutely necessary on Trenton but Harvey and Ross wore them anyway.  Keeping clean air in their lungs would help them if they had to confront Sullivan.

     They touched down in a landing zone next to the freighter.  This part of the complex had been one of the industrial sections.  Massive warehouses lined the streets in each direction.  This was where the minerals extracted from the ore had been transferred to ships for transport off-world.

Ross scanned the freighter and the area around it.  There were no life signs.  Cautiously, he and Ross exited their ship.  A lack of life signs didn’t necessarily mean anything; bioshrouds were technically illegal but Sullivan could have easily picked one up on Damaris.  That planet wasn’t a member of the Stellar Assembly and the legality or illegality of devices like bioshrouds didn’t concern them too terribly.

     Harvey approached the stolen freighter, gun drawn.  The number written across the side of the hull in white matched the number Harvey had on record.  This was definitely Oscar Jones’s ship.  Harvey knew Jones had been the man who’d smuggled Sullivan off of Earth after Sullivan had killed the assemblymen.  Why Sullivan would, almost a year later, track down and kill Jones wasn’t known.  Harvey didn’t much care about that either.  The death of Jones only meant that Harvey’s bounty would be bigger.  The Stellar Assembly paid good money for multiple murderers.

     After searching the freighter, Harvey and Ross entered one of the warehouses.  There was nothing in it.  A search of several of the other structures revealed those to be empty as well.  The mining company had kept men on the ground long enough after the disaster to make sure all the equipment was loaded onto ships and taken off-world.

Harvey took out his tablet and studied a map of the mining complex.  If Sullivan was still alive he’d be in the residential zone.  Despite the company’s removal of all their equipment, Trenton had been abandoned hastily after the accident.  There would probably still be a fair amount of canned and dehydrated food left in the miners’ apartments.

     Slowly, deliberately, Harvey and Ross made their way to the residential zone.  Harvey studied his bioscanner carefully every few meters.  Even if Sullivan did have a bioshroud they didn’t always function perfectly.  Contraband items weren’t necessarily manufactured to exacting standards and all Harvey needed was a temporary glitch for Sullivan to register as a blip on the scanner.

     Ross didn’t need any such gadgets.  He’d been Harvey’s right-hand man for six years and the bounty hunter’s ability to sense his prey was uncanny.  Harvey could count a dozen perps that would have gotten away if Ross hadn’t been with him.  There were two or three more that would have taken Harvey’s life if Ross hadn’t been watching his back.

     So when Ross held up a fist as they entered the residential zone, Harvey halted.  He followed as Ross silently padded up to the side of an apartment building and ducked into the building’s entryway.

     Harvey lifted his rebreather from his nose and mouth.  “What is it?”

     “This building.  I saw movement in a fourth floor window.”

     Harvey looked through the glass doors of the apartment building.  Aside from a thick layer of dust, the lobby looked as it might have when the miners and their families had lived here.  But the dust revealed that someone had been here more recently than that.  A trail of footprints led from the doorway to what Harvey assumed was the stairwell.  The elevator wouldn’t be operational, of course.  There was no power in the city.

Harvey scanned the lobby.  “Alright,” he said.  “I’ll go around and find a back exit and make sure there’s not another way up.  You watch the main stairwell from here.  I’ll let you know if I find a way inside.  If I do, take a position just to the side of the stairwell door.  If I don’t, I’ll meet you back here.”

     Ross nodded and drew his gun.  Harvey hugged the side of the building as he made his way around it, watching the windows above him.  He arrived at the rear of the building and found the emergency exit.  He pulled at the handle.  Locked.  He continued on around the building to make sure there were no other doors.  He rounded back to the main street, took another glance at the windows above him and made his way back to the front entrance.

     Ross wasn’t there.  Harvey peered into the lobby.  There was no sign of his partner.  Harvey hadn’t signaled, so Ross should have stayed put.  No, Ross would have stayed put.  The only thing that would have moved Ross from his position would have been Sullivan.  Sullivan must have come down the stairs; Ross must have seen him and taken chase.

     Harvey drew his gun and opened the door to the lobby.  Once inside he could more clearly see Ross’s boot prints in the dust leading toward the stairwell.  Harvey traced those steps and peered through the small square window of the stairwell door.  All clear.  He pulled open the door and winced as the hinges creaked.  He opened it just enough to slip through then held it so it closed quietly behind him.

     A central shaft ran down the stairwell.  Looking up it he could see the top floor ten, maybe twelve, stories up.  He watched carefully for any movement on the stairs before cautiously making his way up.

     Ross had to be in the stairwell.  He would have followed Sullivan until he exited onto one of the floors.  Ross would have then waited for Harvey in the stairwell before pursuing Sullivan further.

     Harvey worked his way up the stairwell.  When he reached the halfway point between the ninth and tenth floors he then knew that Ross wasn’t in the stairwell.  For some reason he had pursued Sullivan into one of the dark corridors alone.

     The fourth floor.  That’s where Ross had seen the movement, so that’s where Harvey would look for Ross.  He thought about radioing his partner but decided against it.  If Ross was close to Sullivan, Harvey didn’t want to give away his position.  Worse, if Sullivan had gotten ahold of Ross’s earpiece… no.  That wasn’t possible.  Sullivan, from what Harvey had read, was good.  But Ross was better.

     Harvey inched opened the door to the fourth floor.  Thankfully, this one didn’t squeak.  The corridor was almost completely dark, illuminated only by the light coming in through two or three open doors.  Harvey came to the first open door and peered inside.  It was a small but comfortable apartment.  A love seat sat facing a holographic projector.  To the right a kitchenette looked out over a counter into the living room.

     Harvey cleared the living room then approached the open door of the bedroom.  As he peered in he heard a faint noise behind him.  He made a quarter of a turn but before he could fully bring himself around something struck the back of his head.  Harvey reeled from the blow and landed hard against the wall.  He used his momentum to push back against the wall as he landed and flung himself at his attacker.  It was too dark for him to see the man clearly but there was only one person it could be:  Richard Sullivan.

     Harvey barreled into Sullivan with his shoulder, knocking the gun from his hand.  He used his weight to try and land hard on Sullivan as he fell but Sullivan managed to roll away.  Harvey’s knee struck the floor, sending a bolt of agony through his leg.

     As Harvey was temporarily incapacitated by the pain, Sullivan retrieved his gun and pistol-whipped Harvey across the side of the head.  Harvey went down.  He struggled to maintain consciousness but lost.  The dim light in the apartment faded even further and then all was black.

---

I hope you enjoyed this preview of Sullivan's War: Book II - A City without Walls. Please follow these links to purchase the books in the Sullivan's War series.

Sullivan's War: Prologue - Sergeant Riley's Account This stand-alone novella doesn't directly involve the Sullivan's War story line but it is a great introduction to Rick Sullivan's universe.

Sullivan's War: Book I - All Good Men Serve the Devil

Sullivan's War: Book II - A City without Walls

Sullivan's War: Book III - Edaline's Dawn Coming in May, 2012!

Classic Science Fiction 04: “The Last Question” by Isaac Asimov

(Note: After writing this I realized that it is less an examination of "The Last Question" than it is an expression of the thoughts and feelings the story inspired in me. But after all, isn't that what fiction is for?)

What is the ultimate fate of humanity? Annihilation. If our descendants are still around in five billion years and even if they somehow manage to escape our solar system when the sun expands to incinerate the Earth, they will eventually die, along with the rest of the universe. Some 100 trillion years from now star formation will cease. The universe will slowly die. Entropy will be irreversible. I doubt we would be recognizable as humans by that point but it wouldn't matter. Everything we had accomplished, all our scientific advances, all the great art and music, the books and poems, would all have been for naught. Even if the universe then collapses back upon itself and gives birth to a new big bang, a new universe, all matter will have been reverted to the molecular state. Nothing that existed before will exist any longer.

Isaac Asimov's "The Last Question" chronicles several generations of humans and their descendants pondering the question of how the entropy of the universe can be decreased. They address this question to various incarnations of supercomputers and the answer is always the same: "INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR MEANINGFUL ANSWER." I will not reveal the ending in case you haven't read it (you can read it here) but the asking of the question, not the ultimate answer, is what fascinates me most about this story.

Everything humankind has accomplished will eventually be destroyed. No matter what happens to the universe, every trace of us will ultimately vanish. What does this mean? How does one process this information?

I suppose most people just end up ignoring it. They may read about entropy, etc., may briefly realize what this means, then slip comfortably back into their lives. Perhaps this is the most logical response. After all, what can you do about it? Nothing. Why let if affect you?

But I do not believe this is the correct response. What we should do is realize that no matter what happens in the future, we have today. We have the people around us that we love and care about, we have the ability to make today better not just for ourselves but for others. When you look at life on the scale of the entire history of the universe, isn't it a bit mind-boggling that of all the possible outcomes, your life is one of them? Doesn't it give you pause to think that the chain of events that led to your existence goes back nearly fourteen billion years in an unbroken line?

As Carl Sagan said, "[s]ome part of our being knows this is where we came from. We long to return. And we can. Because the cosmos is also within us. We're made of star-stuff. We are a way for the cosmos to know itself."

What do we take away from this? How should we live our lives, knowing this? I've written before about wishing to leave a literary legacy. I've expressed the hope that my work is read a hundred years from now or more. It is an egotistical wish, to be sure. But I think about legacy in more ways than one. If there is some message I can impart to future readers, if one of them reads my work and goes away thinking about notions of right and wrong, thinking about what could be done to make our little corner of the universe more just, more peaceful, then my legacy will have been secured. But I need not write a single word to accomplish this. If I can have a positive influence on the lives of the people I know, if I can live by example and show them that a life of joy and contentment can be had without exploiting or hurting others--that, in fact, the joy is more pure than if I had gained it on the backs of others--I will have left a legacy. If they, in turn, try to live their lives according to the same ideals, they can leave a legacy when they are gone.

The future illuminates the present. What can happen tomorrow tells us very clearly and without hesitation what we must do today. If tomorrow we may die, then today we must live. If tomorrow a child will go hungry, then today we must arrange to feed her. If tomorrow a war may begin, then today we must ensure peace. These are not difficult things to grasp. We have the means to largely rid the world of misery. Why haven't we? Is it the nihilistic strain within humanity that says that ultimately it won't matter? No. It is the selfishness that says whatever I give to them, I cannot have for myself. Well, that ultimately won't matter either. But if you can bring a little joy, a little happiness to someone's life, if you can remove a little misery from the world, that does matter. That will have an effect here and now. And if enough of us do it, it can have an effect until the universe comes to an end.

Perhaps we shouldn't ask "how can entropy be decreased?" but rather "how can joy be increased?" And let it not be the last question, but the first. Humanity's joy is my joy, humanity's accomplishments are my accomplishments. What benefits the planet benefits me in a very nontrivial way. Maybe that is what I am after when I speak of legacy. I want a way for my life to have not been trivial. To do this, I write. But I also live my life as well and as ethically as I can. I suppose that even if I don't leave behind a literary legacy, this will have been enough. This will have made a difference and my life, in that unbroken chain leading from the beginning of the universe to its end, will have been a link worthy of that legacy.

What Science Means to Me

I am a science fiction writer. I write in other genres, but science fiction is my first love. I love the possibilities, I love, as I said in a recent interview, asking and answering the "what ifs?" But this is the fiction part. Let's examine the science part for a moment.

It is an ironic fact that science makes science fiction more difficult. The pulp science fiction stories of the '30s did not have to adhere to the truths of the universe because those truths were not known. Rocketry was in its infancy, there was still very serious speculation about life--nay, civilizations--on Mars and Venus and the relationship between time and space that Einstein had proposed was not fully--or even partially--understood outside of the offices and laboratories of physicists.

So we had rockets taking off then landing vertically on Mars or Venus and encountering bizarre alien creatures. We had ships travelling to distant stars via standard propulsion and returning a mere months or years later.

But as science progressed, as we learned that Mars was a cold and barren landscape with little liquid water, as we learned that the atmosphere of Venus was poisonous and oppressive, as aeronautics advanced and the vast distances between the stars became insurmountable with any technology the mind of man could then dream of, those stories came to seem... ridiculous. Especially reading from our 21st century perspective, those stories are not just implausible but laughably so.

But those stories laid the groundwork for something wonderful. Future thinkers read them and let their imaginations run rampant. Some of them went on to become the physicists who showed the implausibilty of those stories. I think that for many, science fiction opened up the world of science. I recall a television program that interviewed several scientists and engineers who were directly inspired by Star Trek. Science fiction, even in its infancy, was mind-expanding stuff!

And so it was--it is--for me. But here I must make a confession: while I am endlessly fascinated by science, while I would say I know more than the average American about the evolution of the universe, much of it I find completely baffling. I simply cannot comprehend how a human mind was able to come up with relativity or string theory just by observing the universe and conducting thought experiments. I cannot do it. I am not a genius. I received my degree in anthropology, a safe, secure discipline. There are many questions still to be answered, of course, but it is much easier to get a grasp on human civilization and culture than it is the formation of the cosmos.

And here's another confession: the science in my science fiction is not "hard" by any means. I rely on tried and true tropes such as hyperspace travel. However, I think I did come up with an interesting way to explain how hyperspace travel works and if you've read Sullivan's War: Book II you can let me know what you think of it.

But despite this, despite my vast lack of understanding and my reluctance to use science rigorously in my fiction, science still means a great deal to me. It means that as a species we are beginning to get a grasp on the true origins of the universe. The physical laws that we observe are a part of the creation and if one believes in a creator, as I do, then those laws can be seen as a kind of guidepost toward the truth. Those laws have repeatedly struck down the fears and superstitions of less-enlightened ages. Science, and the knowledge that we receive through it, is a gift.

For example, an intellectually honest person cannot rigorously study biology, geology, astronomy, anthropology, archaeology, primatology, paleontology, linguistics, physics, history, mythology, genetics, medicine or theology and still believe in creationism, that the Earth, and by extension the universe, simply came into being fully-formed, or very near it. One may still believe in a creator, that there was some impetus for the creation of matter, but all of the ancient creation myths--and the modern ones--must be cast aside through the use of the greatest gift given to humanity, be that gift from a creator or otherwise. They must be cast aside by the gift of knowledge.

Through science, the truth is illuminated. Through science, ignorance can be left in the past if we so choose. Through science, we can make the world a better place for our descendants and leave a legacy of striving to understand the marvelous universe that surrounds us.

What does science mean to you? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments section below.

Inventing a Universe

"If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch,

you must first invent the universe." - Carl Sagan

Let me begin with a confession: I believe in parallel universes. I believe that any possible universe that can exist, does exist. There are people much smarter than I am who could tell you all about string theory and probabilities and lots of other stuff that it requires a degree in physics to pretend to fully understand, so I won't get into that. I will only say that I have no proof for this belief. There is nothing supporting it besides faith. Just as I have faith that there is a creator, I have faith that there are parallel you's, parallel me's.

As a writer I am completely astounded by the fact that everything I write, everything that I put down on the page, has or is or will happen to someone in one of these universes. The Myriad Spheres universe in which the Sullivan's War story line takes place is really out there (or over there, as the case may be). When I write, do I somehow subconsciously tap into this reality? Probably not, but it's an idea that I fancy.

So when I find myself writing about this universe, I feel like I owe something to the people in it to get it right. And this is where another confession comes in: I didn't get it right.

The very first story I wrote in this Myriad Spheres universe is a short story called Sleep. All the elements were there that would eventually lead to this fully-realized universe, encompassing forty-six inhabited planets, most of them governed by an interplanetary body called the Stellar Assembly. This idea of thousands of freighters traversing the cosmos via hyperspace was also there. But I didn't quite know why all these freighters would be, for the most part, privately owned. In fact, the justification for this system wouldn't come until much later, in Sullivan's War: Book I - All Good Men Serve the Devil:

     The interstellar passenger ships were among the largest of the space-faring vessels. There were, of course, larger cargo vessels operated by a few corporations but most freight was transported by smaller ships. Due to the vast distances and long travel times between markets a system of small-fleet operations, or even individually-owned cargo ships, had developed. A corporation, no matter how organized, simply couldn’t keep track of its ships and cargo on such a large scale, especially when news of any problems or delays took months to reach headquarters.
     Passenger operations were a little different. Flights didn’t have to be arranged on short notice to fulfill the varying demands of the interstellar marketplace. The passenger flights were scheduled years in advance. Every Monday a flight left Earth for Faris, every Tuesday for Oceanus and so on. And with an estimated sixty billion people spread out across forty-six inhabited worlds, there was never any shortage of passengers.
     Often, those who needed to make last-minute plans would have to book passage on the much more frequent and flexible freighters.

Now, this is something that worked to my advantage when it came time to write Sullivan's War. Rick Sullivan needed a way to get from planet to planet under the radar and he could do this on freighters but not on passenger ships. But this has nothing to do with my mistake. In fact, in Sleep there are two.

First, I list the travel time between Silvanus and Faris as thirty days aboard the Ares, which I mention is an older ship and isn't moving as fast as newer vessels. When I finally sat down and plotted out all the distances using tokens and a tape measure (writing science fiction is sophisticated work!) I discovered that it would have to be one month and twenty-seven days for all the other travel times in Sullivan's War to make sense. Oops! I highly doubt that any reader would ever realize this (or care) but it made me realize that it is very difficult to invent a universe, even if it is already out there, fully formed, just waiting for my psyche to tap into it.

The second mistake I made has to do with the planet Faris itself. In Sleep, the main character Jane searches the Freight Transporters' Database and finds out that Faris allows for orbital disposal of waste. If you've read Book II of Sullivan's War you'll know that the Farisians are highly protective of their planets' environment and probably wouldn't cotton to this sort of thing. Oops!

I know that as I continue with the Rick Sullivan novels and write other stories in this universe (I have half a dozen ideas to develop) I will make more mistakes. But you should know that I really am trying to get it right. I am trying to keep the details of this universe consistent, I am trying to create a believable world, given a few not-outrageous suspensions of disbelief. And I think that readers are responding to this. I have had several nice reviews commenting that they enjoyed the political nuances that are at play throughout the Sullivan's War series and that the universe seems plausible and authentic. I am trying to make this universe as real as possible, and that includes creating a full history that takes into account politics, technology, the biology, geology and environments of various planets, inter-planetary conflict and more than a few remarkable individuals like Rick Sullivan who are destined to have a greater impact on history than most other people.

I take great pride in inventing this universe and if you have read Sleep or the Sullivan's War series, I want to tell you a secret: there are many elements within each story that, if you like my writing and continue with it, you will see come into play in future stories. It is my hope that each story I release will contain a small nugget of information that savvy readers will pick up on and remember when they read the next book. Just to reveal a couple, the hyperspace entities that are introduced in Sullivan's War: Book II will play a very big role in Rick Sullivan's future adventures. And the Squamata, the species native to Edaline that were introduced in the Prologue to Sullivan's War, Sergeant Riley's Account, will make an appearance in Sullivan's War: Book III.

If you haven't read any of my work but do decide to pick up one of my books, I hope this information will enrich your reading experience and bring the Myriad Spheres universe alive for you. It is very much alive for me and despite the unsavory elements that inhabit some planets (and the Stellar Assembly) I think it's a place full of wonder and excitement. If you would like a glimpse of it, please see the links below.

Best,
Michael K. Rose

Related Links:

Sullivan's War: Prologue - Sergeant Riley's Account
Sullivan's War: Book I - All Good Men Serve the Devil
Sullivan's War: Book II - A City without Walls
Sleep - A Science Fiction/Psychological Horror Short Story

An Excerpt from Sullivan's War: Book I

Following is an excerpt from Sullivan's War: Book I - All Good Men Serve the Devil. This is the beginning of a trilogy that follows Rick Sullivan as he struggles to free his home planet from tyranny. If it piques your interest, more information, including quotes from 5-star reviews and links to the Amazon and Barnes & Noble stores, can be found here:

Sullivan's War: Book I - All Good Men Serve the Devil

    The Cairo Bar wasn’t an establishment Zednik cared for but it was the go-to meeting place for Abilene’s criminal class.  The planet’s security forces stayed well clear and the bar’s owner, a man named North, had a brigade of bouncers who strictly enforced the neutrality of the bar.  All weapons were to be checked upon entering and any disagreements were to be taken outside.  It was said that the sidewalk in front of the Cairo was the bloodiest spot in all of Abilene.

     Zednik had changed into a dark grey suit with a blood red shirt and a red and a yellow tie.  A canary yellow silk handkerchief inhabited his breast pocket, arranged with practiced indifference.  Zednik stepped into the Cairo and made his way to the back room of the bar, past the bouncer, who held open the door.  He was let through unchallenged.  Everyone knew Zednik never carried a gun and even if he did, he was much too important a man to insult with a weapon scan.

     The back room was only for Abilene’s most powerful players.  Zednik crossed to the corner booth which was, by order of North, cleaned twice daily and reserved at all times for Zednik.  He brought so much business into the bar that North was happy to give Zednik this indulgence.

     The girl in the short skirt didn’t pass by Zednik’s table to offer him a drink.  Zednik never ate or drank outside of his own home.  After a moment he saw Younger enter the back room.  Zednik raised an arm and motioned him over.

     Younger sat.  He knew better than to try and shake Zednik’s hand.  “You have a job for me?”

     “Yes.”  Zednik took out a printout of a photo of Sullivan that he’d gotten off of the news wires.  “His name is Richard Sullivan.”

     “Right,” said Younger.  “He killed some assemblymen on Earth.”

     “That’s right.”

     “I heard about Wilson.  Was it him?”

     “Yes.”

     “And I heard something about a girl.  A particular blonde-haired girl.”

     “What you heard isn’t important, Younger.  But if, when you find Sullivan, he is accompanied by any young women, I would like you to bring them to me.”

     “I understand.  Of course, that will make this more complex than a simple lights out operation.  It’ll cost you.”

     “Whatever fee you think is fair, I will pay.”

     Younger looked at the photo.  “He’s military, isn’t he?”

     “Ex-military.  Edaline special forces, from what I was able to find out.  And there’s another complication.  The Bureau is here looking for him.  I need you to find him first.”

     Younger rapped his fingers against the table.  “It’ll be a hundred for this one.”

     Zednik smiled.  The girl was worth half a million to him.  He could afford to pay a hundred thousand for her return and the death of Sullivan.  “I agree to that price,” he said.  “You know how to get in touch with me.”

     “Yes,” said Younger.  He stood and turned to leave.

     “Oh, Mr. Younger,” said Zednik.  “Be careful with this one.”

     “I’m always careful, Mr. Zednik.”  Younger left the table, shoving the picture of Sullivan into his pocket as he went.

Read more in Sullivan's War: Book I - All Good Men Serve the Devil, available at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

Also Available: Sullivan's War: Prologue - Sergeant Riley's Account