Passwords: the new magic words

"In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God."
-John 1:1 KJV

Magic words have deep roots in our culture. In The Bible the creation of the universe is accomplished by the Hebrew god's declarative sentences. Adam's first important act in Genesis is to give the animals their names. Many of the phrases we consider "magic words" have their origin in Christian religious ritual. Hocus pocus , for example, may find its root in hoc est corpus (the "this is my body" line of the Communion ritual).

The neat thing about a magic word is that it can be written in an old language whose source is disputed (Abracadabra has possible sources in Greek, Aramaic, Hebrew, and Syrian), can be written in nonsense (presto chango), an invented language, or pseudo-Latin (popular with medieval conjurers and J.K. Rowling), pseudo-Arabic, or pseudo-Greek.

Regardless of how they are formulated, there is no denying that magic words are an important source of a magician's power. The wizard in LeGuin's Earthsea Trilogy performs his magic and can be controlled through knowledge of true names . In the Lord of the Rings, the fellowship is stopped at the Dimrill Gate, unable to open it and enter Moria. The door is inscribed with an obscure Elvish dialect that reads: "speak, friend, and enter." As Gimli points out, the inscription is "plain enough. If you are a friend, speak the password and enter." Gandalf tries a whole series of powerful magic words until, under duress, he stumbles on "Mellon-" the common Elvish word for "friend." Gandalf quite literally speaks "friend" and enters. His magic words were of no use to enter the door- and thus began the age of passwords.

Many years ago I read an article by Robert Cringely pointing out that software programmers building the applications that manage our bank accounts, mutual funds, and stock trades, manage our amazon.com transactions, eBay purchases, and my weekly grocery delivery, are huge fans of the Lord of the Rings. Is it any wonder that our entrance to these virtual worlds is guarded by passwords?

Our passwords are cobbled nuggets of our inner selves- words, names, numbers, phrases, ideas that have some very personal meaning to us. We take those nuggets and obscure them in a myriad of ways to keep our bank accounts and identities safe. When it is time to log on and open the magic door to our virtual life, only we know the password. And we protect the knowledge of these words in much the same way as LeGuin's wizard protects the knowledge of his true name.

Passwords are the new magic words of our magical modern life.

* I was helped writing this post by Craig Conley's book The Magician's Hidden Library . Check it out!

Carol Emshwiller

In an earlier blog post I mentioned that Carol Emshwiller won the Neubla for best short story. Though I haven't had the opportunity to read the story that got the prize, I just finished her two most recent tales.

"The Seducer" appears in the Oct/Nov issue of Asmiov's, and "Killers" is in the Oct/Nov F&SF. The two stories shared some striking similarities that may indicate something about Emshwiller's current trends as a writer.

1. First person, present tense.
2. Protagonist has had to care for elderly, ornery parents. At the start of the tale, the protagonist is freed from this obligation by their deaths.
3. A spectral sibling- important to the protagonist in early life, now missing.
4. Moving up the mountain- as tensions rise, the characters seek higher ground.
5. Celibate (or unemotionally unattached) protagonist is overwhelmed by love for specimen of the opposite sex who does not conform to protagonist's ideal of beauty.
6. Short noun titles implying active characters.

This was the very first story I've read out of my new Asimov's subscription. I was shocked when I got to the end and realized "The Seducer" isn't science fiction.

"Revelations"

I just finished "Revelation" by Albert E. Cowdrey in the Oct/Nov issue of F&SF. Here are my favorite lines, descriptions of self-centered, paranoid college student, U:

"'The truth is,' he went on, eyes taking on the thousand-yard stare of introspection, 'it really baffles me not knowing where the dragon came from.'"

"After his outburst U sat in silence while the filmy cataracts of self-absorption slowly cleared from his eyes..."

Additional kudos for getting Gordon Van Gelder's name and the title of the magazine into the story. Would have made a tough sale in Asimov's or Realms of Fantasy- along with the fact that the story was neither science fiction nor preciesly fantasy, but something in between .

Coagulate

Today I encountered "coagulate" in two unusual descriptions:

1. Perdido Street Station (China Mieville)
"Perched where two rivers strive to become the sea, where mountains become a plateau, where the clumps of trees coagulate to the south and- quantity becomes quality- are suddenly a forest."
- Mr. Motley explains his theory of Transition to Lin.

2. "Revelation" (Albert E. Cowdrey)
"I can't coagulate my thoughts...I can think of A, or B, or J, but how they connect, I don't know."
-U blames this condition on the fact that he has been administered an anticoagulant.

Digital Trend

"I'm all for compassion, just not on my dime."

-from the "Bank Job" Barenaked Ladies Are Me (Page, Robertson)

What a great song lyric. The first time I heard it, it hit me right in the solar plexus. I could have written reams trying to explain the morality of the world I am living in, but Ed Robertson and Steven Page said it in a single line. The fact that they slid this profound insight into a story about guys sticking up a bank filled with nuns makes the Barenaked Ladies my heroes of the week.

So, how did I get to hear this BNL album on September 12th, right on the release date? Did I rush to Union Square and pound down the doors of the Virgin Megastore? No way! I just logged onto Rhapsody, and grabbed it- no extra charge, just part of my subscription. I get an all-you-can-eat buffet of awesome music for a monthly subscription fee that is less than the price of a single CD. Kind of makes you happy to live in the digital age.

Pioneered by iTunes, digital music has been around- and profitable- for some time. It seemed inevitable that digital video would follow. I've actually been tapping my toes, glowering as my bookshelves fill with DVDs (I'm buying eBooks now whenever possible- though some dead tree books constantly trickle into the house). Sure enough, this week both amazon.com and iTunes announced digital video stores. My husband and I sped through cyberspace to check them out- looks like Amazon has some software issues to sort out before it is really usable. As expected, iTunes digital video store is slick and easy to use. Right now they only have titles from Disney- but not all of them are cartoons. And, hey, what's wrong with cartoons? Apple had to start somewhere, but I'm looking forward to wider selection.

In addition, this week Apple announced the ILoad , a device which will load content directly to your living room TV. We're using a less groundbreaking, but equally cool device to play any of our millions of Rhapsody tracks on our living room stereo. It looks like tech is finally getting ready to cozy up on the sofa.

An interesting phenomenon about iTunes music and video stores, and about Fictionwise's eBook store, is that when you purchase digital media it is stored on a virtual bookshelf- which doesn't take up any room in my apartment! The idea is, that if I accidentally erase an eBook off my Palm, or need to make room for more music on my portable digital music player, it's no problem. I have bought the rights to to the music, and virtual stores remember what I bought and let me access it from my virtual bookshelf whenever I need it. No need to clutter up devices

So, how do I access my virtual bookshelf? All I need is an internet connection...and a password. I need a password for almost everything I do: ordering a book, ordering my groceries, balancing my check book. Blog post coming soon- "Passwords: modern-day magic words."

Toward the End of Time

I love the cover of this book: the terra-cotta bust of a man, facial features just beginning to crumble and erode. The cover suggests the earthy, human nature of Updike's 1997 offering, and hints at the philosophy within. What it does not indicate is that Toward the End of Time is actually a spec fiction novel. Phoebe-Lou Adams of the Atlantic Monthly identifies three speculative elements to the narrative: future fantasy, science fiction, and magical realism.

Here's the future fantasy angle: Updike asks what American life would be like if the U.S. lost a major war with China. The answer seems to be "not that different from what it is today," provided you live in the American Northeast. The year is 2020. The dollar is gone, the federal government is hiding. But that tireless American spirit of get up and go has caused locals to organize local monetary systems. Freelancers of varying respectability take protection money to keep the area safe so that people can go to work and children can go to school. For retired investment adviser, Ben Turnbull, normal life means helping his second wife tend the garden, infrequent visits with his ten or so grandchildren, and trying to keep his aging body from falling apart.

Here's the science fiction angle: Multiple universes. Quantum theory. Is Ben going a little bit senile, or has his life suddenly taken an unexplained (but not unwelcome) leap to an unfamiliar reality? Ben does a lot of musing on the nature of science in this book. Be prepared to stop and listen- he's in his late seventies, after all, and he's not moving or thinking too quickly these days. One other neat science fiction element: metallobioforms- mechanical creatures designed to clear away large tracts of land for human exploitation. Occasionally one of these metallobioforms will wander into the wrong place and gnaw off someone's leg, and there is some fear they will evolve to newer "more voracious" forms, but Ben isn't very afraid of them, since they must stick to "oily, electricity-rich" areas like cities, train tracks, gas stations. Like so many other science fictional elements of this book, metallobioforms are only one cool periphery to the story.

Last but not least, magical realism: Toward the End of Time is chock full of fantastical elements that Ben absorbs as no less real than the persistent and demoralizing deterioration of his body. There is also heavy use of symbolism equating the passage of time in the natural world with Ben's aging, and the identification of Ben's young lover with the deer his wife seems bent on exterminating from their backyard. Wikipedia defines one element of magical realism as: "Emotions and the sexuality of the human as a social construct are often developed upon in great detail." Toward the End of Time fulfills this convention and then some. Ben may be old, but he's not dead, yet.

And here's why I loved the book: the language. This is not a plot-driven page-turner. It is a beautiful, meditative, honest look at the human condition. As a speculative fiction fan, I'm so happy Updike chose to set this human drama in the future.

Note: This is not a book for the prudish, nor for anyone unwilling to look death and decay straight in the eye.

A Wizard of Earthsea

This morning I finished the first novel of Ursula K. LeGuin's Earthsea Trilogy. I was enchanted by the tale, and at the same time mystified by how LeGuin pulled it off. She broke many of the conventions that are supposed to result in an excellent fantasy novel. For example:

1. Telling the story from a third person omniscient point of view: while the majority of the narrative draws the reader into protagonist Ged's actions, thoughts, and feelings, surprising p.o.v. leaps occur when we see the thoughts of other characters, or when the all-knowing voice of the narrator tells us what will happen to Ged in the future.
2. Skimming over a long, consecutive timeline: LeGuin covered nineteen years of Ged's life in a 144-page novel. Compare that to a Tolkein book, which may refer to events in the past, but follows a very tight narrative timeline. Compare to Harry Potter (a fair comparison since young Ged goes to wizarding school). Ten months of Harry's life result in door-stoppers.
3. Handful of characters: there is only one character who matters in this book, and that is Ged. Mentors, one friend, a rival, and two young women are fleeting presences in Ged's life. They come and go, subtly altering the course of his journey. Yet only three very special characters make a second appearance. Compare this to Jordan and Tolkein, whose cast of characters is so vast and intricate that a special glossary is included to help readers keep track of them.
4. Protagonist already knows his power: Ged may have a lot to learn, but he knows he can use magic before his adventure begins. There is no magical revelation of his true nature, no shock or adjustment as he comes to terms with his new-found power. Ged is no hobbit stepping up to the plate, no Daenerys Targaryen unaware she has inherited the power of her ancestors, no Harry Potter taken aback to learn he is a wizard, no Rand shocked and terrified to learn that he can touch the Source.
   

Reading the opening pages ofA Wizard of Earthsea (The Earthsea Cycle, Book 1), I was delighted by the setting: a world almost entirely water, with tiny, isolated islands of land. I had fun looking through the maps and exploring what made this world different than my own. But I was quite concerned how I would begin to identify with a young man whose childhood history skimmed by in passages of exposition illuminated by brief scenes of narration. But Wizard of Earthsea was a moving adventure, worthy of the comparisons to Tolkein touted on the back cover. So how did LeGuin do it?

She used rules- not rules about narrative style or fantasy convention, but rules about magic.

You see, magic is not something you are born with or born without. It isn't something that you study, or something that you master. Magic is inherent in everything, as natural to every rock, every tree, every soaring sparrow hawk, as the waves that lap the rocky beaches of Earthsea. Magic is what created the world, it is the essence of anything that exists; and anything that exists can be called upon by its true name- its name in the Old Speech of the dragons- to make the fantastic happen.

A mage, or wizard, or a simple village witch is a special person with the ability to call things by their True Name. The ability to stir the wind, create an illusion, or even transfigure an illusion into something of substance, depends on the depth of the wizard's knowledge of Old Speech. The use of magic to physically alter reality carries with it heavy consequences that may drastically disturb the delicate balance of reality.

It is by establishing these rules of the magical world that LeGuin draws the reader into Ged's journey. Young Ged is goaded into making some bad choices at a point in his career when he has more power than wisdom. His struggle with the consequences results in a gripping story that plays poetically and emotionally through the natural laws of magic of Earthsea.

Sweet Serenity

Before I begin my review, you should know that for most of my adult life television has equaled Joss Whedon. This screenwriter/director understands that drama does not move the human spirit unless it is laced with humor. His space western television series, Firefly , is an excellent example of his ability to mash together seemingly disparate ideas- drama and humor, cowboys and space ship pilots, futuristic geisha and girls turned science experiment- and make everybody wonder why nobody thought to do it before. His translation of this short-lived television series to film was a huge success, and not just according to me. As mentioned in earlier posts, Serenity has won both Hugo and Nebula awards. Check out Serenity's wikipedia page to read about the seven or so other awards it has won.

Now, let's get down to why Serenity is so good.

Serenity is about people. Whedon isn't telling a story about science, he's telling a story about how people in a world changed by science go on putting one foot in front of the other. Serenity draws the viewer in with an ensemble cast of characters who need enough fuel, oxygen, food, and cash to eke out another day of semi-legal survival on the fringe of planetary pioneer life. Beyond sheer survival, the characters have other hopes and dreams. Zoe and Wash would like things to calm down so they can have a baby. Kaylee would just be happy to have sex. Inara would like Mel to stop thinking her geisha-esque profession makes her a whore. Jayne would like a chance to use his most awesome gun. Simon is trying to keep his sister, River, from being captured, tortured, and abused by the Alliance government. As captain, Mal is trying to make sure his crew don't all end up dead like his platoon in the Battle of Serenity- the battle which, by the way, put the Alliance in power. Of all the characters, Mal most embodies the show's mission statement: "It's just about getting by. That's always been the mission statement of what the show is -- getting by." (writer, Tim Minear).

Serenity's fun characters and situations embody the film's theme, which deals with the nature of humanity. Again and again, we see the Alliance's attempts to "improve" people. We also see the consequences of those "improvements," and they aren't pretty. Whedon seems to be saying that people are going to be people: no amount of tinkering is going to change anything. The moving conclusion of the film, which I do not wish to spoil, proposes an alternate solution to creating a better society- one that recognizes that the way toward healing is not to change the definition of humanity, but to open up communication, exchange ideas, work on solving problems collectively.

I think it's a cool message, and a cool film. If you haven't seen it, I highly suggest you check it out.

Hugo Winners

Sleepy Worldcon reports are beginning to trickle in from friends and from sf writers' blogs. Apparently people sang, partied, chatted, drank coffee- did everything but sleep at this conference. Tired or not, the organizers of the conference managed to get the Hugo Award Winners up online.

First, let me mention that Serenity stole both the Nebula and the Hugo this year. Well-deserved in my opinion. Check back later this week for my review of Serenity.

While we're on the subject of video media, let me say that "The Empty Child" & "The Doctor Dances" were undoubtedly the best two episodes of Dr. Who (as aired so far in the U.S.) that I have seen. There is no doubt that these two episodes were deliciously creepy. Were they better than Battlestar Galactica's "Pegasus?" I'm still catching up on this series, so I couldn't say.

Now onto that old-fashioned print stuff. Best novellette went to Peter S. Beagle. I remember reading "Two Hearts" in the double October/November issue of F&SF. I was so impressed that I ran out to the used bookstore in search of more Beagle.

Asimov's cleared away the rest of the short fiction prizes. Sadly, I read neither tale. Nor have I read the book that took away the big prize for best novel by Robert Charles Wilson.

"Related Book" award went to Kate Wilhelm for her memoir on the creation of the Clarion Writer's Workshop. This book is sitting on my shelf, partially read- not because it isn't excellent, but because there is so much information on craft that I want to absorb it just a little at a time. It is also great fun to learn how Wilhelm and her husband nursed the fledgling workshop along in its earliest days.

One last interesting note: Neil Gaiman's blog post, Hugo Words, discusses his decision to withdraw his novel Anansi Boys from the Hugo nominations. I reviewed this book in a previous post. It was, in fact, the first post ever on my blog!

The Hugos are Coming!

If you're not already aware, the 64th Annual Worldcon (World Science Fiction Convention) is going on right now in L.A. (technically Anaheim, CA). The conference has been going on since Wednesday, and will dramatically conclude Saturday evening with the Hugo Award Ceremonies. You can check out the Hugo nominees here.

For an explanation of the difference between the Nebula and Hugo Awards, see my post: The Nebulas are Coming!. In short, the Hugo is voted on by members of the Worldcon convention. That isn't as exclusive as it sounds: all you have to do to be a member of the convention, is buy a ticket and go. This makes the Hugo more of a "people's choice award" than the Nebula, which is determined by SFWA members (membership to that organization is for professionals with strict pro sale requirements).

If you're interested a ground's-eye view and pictures of what's been going on at Worldcom, check out the convention's live journal.

Ellison's Nubbin

Something interesting is going on in the September issue of F&SF. Harlan Ellison donated something to the magazine that he calls a nubbin- the kernel of a story idea that usually results in a full-blown, publishable tale. Ellison says he's only ever had two nubbins that wouldn't sprout. He has offered one of them to Gordon Van Gelder, to pass on to selected writers and see if they have better luck.

Luck is, in fact, the essence of the nubbin. Ellison envisions Lady Luck "wending her way through a gambling venue." Enter Unluckiest Guy in the Universe. Not only is Unlucky the only person in the crowd able to see Lady Luck, but he falls madly, hopelessly in love with her.

Sounds like fun- and all three commissioned stories are in the issue- though the editor never explains this, nor are the relevent stories highlighted in any way. You'll know a story is one of the three if the blurb at the top of each story gives some mention of why the particular author was chosen. All three intros will also claim certain members of a test audience thought THIS one was the best.

They were all fun to read, but Michael Libling's "If You've Ever Been A Lady" best captured the vision implied by Ellison's nubbin, and did the best job of exploiting the nature of luck.

If you pick up this issue and, like me, want to read the three Luck Be a Lady stories in a row, without turning all the pages of the magazine, here they are:

• "Señora Suerte" by Tananarive Due (Lady Luck blesses Bingo in an old folks' home)

• "Poor Guy" by Michael Kandel (a karma trip)

• "If You've Ever Been A Lady" by Michael Libling (Lady Luck meets her match in Las Vegas)

Interesting to note- all these stories were from Unlucky's point of view. I am itching to write a take where Lady Luck is the sympathetic character.

Child of a Rainless Year

Let's continue with the theme of fantastical houses and talk about the Phineas House. When middle school art teacher Mira Fenn returns to her childhood home, she learns that she has inherited more than than a building. The Phineas House is a responsive structure that may hold clues to her mother's mysterious disappearance forty years ago. Hoping to learn her mother's fate, Mira begins to commune with the house by repainting it in an orgy of fantastic colors.

Mira's adventure draws the reader into the fascinating world of color. Vibrant hues surround us, yet in essence every color is derived from variegated shades that subtly blend to create new aesthetic sensations. Jane Lindskold seizes upon the theme of color and refracts it through a magical kaleidoscope of storytelling to bring us Child of a Rainless Year.

Lindskold's fantasy is refreshingly modern and magical. She brings passages of The Golden Bough and other potentially dry mythological and mystical texts to life and expertly weaves legends of mirrors, shadows, and liminal space into the plot. Frequent tracts on feminism and women's rights are justified by the link Mira sees between herself and her adoptive 1950s mom, though at times these passages betray the author's intrusive voice.

I enjoyed meeting Mira and getting to know a Las Vegas that has nothing to do with casino wheels and dice. I had a lot of fun learning all about kaleidoscopes and teleidoscopes. And I love a fantasy in which the main character can both go on a mystical journey, and sell collectibles on eBay.

Monster House

I've seen quite a lot of films this summer, but only one was in 3D. Monster House was a great opportunity to sit in a dark, air conditioned environment, eat raisinettes, and wear nifty glasses. I saw this film in "Real D" (uses a single digital projector instead of the traditional two projector system), and the graphics were fantastic. The effect was less like hands reaching out and poking your eye (traditional 3D) and more like peering into a giant, three-dimensional diorama. A single autumn leaf drifting through the trees was a feast for the eyes- and the kids in the row behind me (who were hopped up on more than raisinettes) went nuts during this sequence.

Now, past the obvious coolness of great digital animation and Real D technology, we get to the story. There, the film faltered a little.

Don't get me wrong. The set-up was cool. Halloween, cursed house that comes alive, parents gone on vacation. It had all the makings of a really fun story. And fun was had. But my credibility was stretched to the breaking point. Now, I'm not talking about believability. I'm willing to suspend my belief pretty far in a world where a house can loll its red carpet tongue onto the front lawn and eat the neighborhood dog. But credibility talks about how the story behaves according to the rules of the make-believe universe. Do characters behave and events unfold in a way consistent with the rules established in the world?

If you're in the mood for some funny glasses and candy, go see for yourself and tell me what you think. I would say that the climax of the film relied on coincidence, that characters behaved in ways inconsistent with their abilities and special skills, and that the jaded babysitter so critical to the opening scenes of the movie faded away and disappeared without a whimper when her plot-device service was done.

But seriously, if you're a fan of computer graphics and digital 3D, don't let a few story flaws stand in the way of enjoying a beautifully animated film!

Vertiginous Monkeys

It's hot. The air conditioner died in a dramatic fireworks display just in time for the Fourth of July- and there is no possibility of getting it replaced for a few days. What do you do? Sink down on the sofa and watch some movies. Eat loads of Italian Ice. Yeah, that sounds good.

I found myself in this situation last week, and was fortunate to have some excellent films around to watch. But if you combine slow, hot vacation days with some Hitchcock and Terry Gilliam, things can start to get a little strange.

Last Friday I watched Vertigo. I am now actually afraid of bleached blondes.

Saturday afternoon I slipped Twelve Monkeys into the DVD player. Twelve Monkeys is a fairly intense time travel story- the kind that makes you squirm in your seat. Near the climax of the film, desperate time traveller James Cole and his psychiatrist Kathryn Railly try to escape pursuit by hiding out in a movie theater. There, James puts on his cheesy mustache and hairy wig. Kathryn disguises herself by bleaching her hair blond in the bathroom. As the transformation takes place, scenes from Vertigo are playing on the big screen. It was enough to give me the creeps in an already creepy film.

Have you ever noticed the time travel movie convention that everyone thinks the time traveller is mentally ill? Of course, mental illness is central to Vertigo, as well. Maybe I should limit my spec fiction viewing to reruns of Mork and Mindy. That ought to be safe, argh, argh.

By the way- if the name Terry Gilliam has been nagging you, the director of Twelve Monkeys is better known for his stint as animator and actor with Monty Python.

Speech Sounds

I was just reading the July issue of Asimov's when I came across the "In Memoriam" for Octavia Butler. The memoriam noted that Butler wrote few short stories. Of those she published, Asimov's had only printed two: "Speech Sounds" and "Bloodchild." These two stories "brought her three of her four major science fiction awards."

As it so happens, I'd just read "Speech Sounds." Sure enough, it won her the 1984 Hugo Award for Best Short Story.

"Speech Sounds" was a terrific story to read- not in the least because the science behind the science fiction was linguistcs- one of my favorite fields! The pandemic in this story leaves survivors unable to read, write, or speak. But things don't really start to get creepy until we learn that certain individuals, more resistant, stronger, luckier than the other survivors, have managed to retain limited portions of their linguistic abilities. These rare individuals who can still read, or, as in protagonist Rye's case, still speak coherent sentences, form a hated segment of an angry population who no longer have the ability to let off steam verbally. Their anger has to be acted out in a very physical way.

閉
Shut

A tiny Buddhist temple floats in the middle of a sparkling lake. Mountains soar above the lake, dwarfing the temple and the little canoe that serves as the only means of transport from the temple to the outside world.

Sounds charming, doesn't it? As Korean film Bom yeoreum gaeul gyeoul geurigo bom (Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, and Spring) unfolds, the scene only gets more beautiful. Inside the temple lives an old monk and his little apprentice. The child's room is a mat on the floor. The room has no walls- just a door that juts up incongruously from the floor, and through which the little apprentice dutifully exits upon waking.

Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, and Spring isn't technically a speculative fiction film, though a few miraculous things do occur. For instance, when the little apprentice steals the canoe and ventures alone to the mainland, the old monk mysteriously appears behind him. The old monk isn't even a little wet- leaving the viewer to wonder whether he has discovered teletransportation or just learned to walk on water.

The film traces the story of the young apprentice through the seasons of his life, from innocent child, through his sexual awakening, his disastrous excursion to the outside world, and his return to the floating temple. The cinematography and acting are moving- but I was not prepared to encounter anything in this seemingly mainstream film so creepy as 閉.

閉 is the Chinese character for "shut" or "closed." This symbol has become indelibly burned into my mind. It appears twice in the course of the story- and both times the wearer has written it on scraps of paper which have been glued firmly over the eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. The papers have been glued in place in an attempt to shut out the world from the five senses- and to shut off the supply of oxygen. The first time I saw a character plastered over with 閉s, I was terrified. Even my untrained Western gut reaction had no trouble identifying this very Eastern symbolic gesture as an attempt at suicide. Later in the movie, the symbols appear again. This time suffocation is not the only means by which the wearer of the 閉s attempts to achieve death.

The impact of these scenes are heightened by the fact that the film is largely unspoken. Writer/director Ki-duk Kim rarely uses dialog, relying on the actions of the actors to tell the story. This hardly means that language is unimportant to the tale. Carving the characters of a Buddhist sutra into the planks of the floating temple bring about a veritable miracle, and let us not forget the power of the word 閉.

You can see some still images of the film (including an actor pasted over with 閉) in the gallery of the film's website.

The Improbability Locus Theory

A few weeks ago I discussed Joe Haldeman and how his experiences in the Vietnam War influenced his writing (Camouflage: on Humanity's Coming of Age and the Importance of Adaptability)

Today I came across a short story by Haldeman: "The Private War of Private Jacob."

There are a lot of puns in this barely five-page story. The title is a good example. Another pun arises when the soldiers are talking about their sergeant- a man who has never once been hit in battle. Jacob proposes that the sergeant's good fortune is due to the "improbability locus theory." A fellow private jokes that Sergeant Melford "sure is an imperturbable locust." Soldiers facing very grim circumstances need to use humor as an escape.

Graveyard humor is one thing, but the way Sergeant Melford acts is something entirely different. Jacob has serious misgivings about the sanity of the overly cheerful sergeant, who laughs with genuine glee as he leads his men to their deaths.

So- what is this "improbability locus theory?" Is Haldeman just putting some fancy words into a Yatzee tumbler and seeing what comes out? I don't think so.

Try looking up luck on wikipedia. You'll find references to the locus of control. The locus of control has to do with how an individual feels his future will be determined- by external forces beyond his control, or by his own internal resources, and the conditions in which he chooses to live his life. As we learn in "The Private War of Private Jacob," Sergeant Melford's locus of control is a little more complex than we expected...

But on a much more literal level, Sergeant Melford is an "improbability locus" because battle, after battle, after battle, the men around him die, but he is never hit.

I found this short story particularly interesting, because it didn't read like science fiction. Oh, there were a few interesting weapons slid into the brutally realistic depiction of death and violence on the battlefield- but the story read like any mainstream war story. It isn't until Jacob's worst fears about himself are confirmed, that we really enter the realm of science fiction.

Concentration

Have you heard about the latest craze in reality TV? It's this show called Concentration. Contestants were chosen by lottery, then dragged off to a recreation of a Nazi concentration camp. The highlight of the broadcast is when the prisoners line up for review, and the weakest are chosen for the gas chamber.

Who is responsible for this inhumane fiasco? The prison guards who use the contestants for slave labor? Or the studio execs who thought up and financed Concentration?

No. Prissoner CKZ 114 was right. YOU are responsible for this program. You and every single viewer who tunes in to Concentration.

Fortunately, Concentration is not the brainchild of CBS- but of Amelie Nothomb writing her latest book, Acide Sulfurique. Though many of the francophone author's books have been translated into English ( Fear and Trembling , The Life of Hunger, and my personal favorite, The Life of Rain) those who don't speak French will have to wait a little while to read Acide Sulfurique.

In addition to studying with horrified fascination the public's participation in Concentration, Nothomb uses protagonist CKZ 114 to explore some themes familiar from her other novels: the power of beauty, the power of a name, and the ease with which an innocent girl can mistake herself for God.

For those who have been following Season One of Dr. Who in the U.S., you might remember that Part I of the final episode dealt with a theme similar to that of Acide Sulfurique. Each of the three main characters found themselves in the middle of deadly game shows. The Doctor was locked in a house in a Big Brother type show. Rose was playing the Weakest Link for her life. Captain Jack is getting a makeover with a chain saw.

Reality TV has become as prevalent in European culture as it has in America (when I lived in Italy Grande Fratello, the Italian version of Big Brother, was all the rage). Future extrapolations of reality TV, at least by European authors, tends to be very dark, indeed.

"Emergency Medical Hologram" May Be Less Futuristic Than You Think

This weekend I was playing around with Prolog- a logic programming language (developed for natural language processing) often used in artificial intelligence programs.

Now, my program wasn't very complicated. It was designed to help me choose which of three pair of shoes I wanted to buy.

The top portion of the program was dedicated to entering information about the shoes: their cost, what material they were made of, arch support, ease of washing, ect. The second portion was a set of rules and superrules.

The rules taught the program how to categorize the random bits of information. For instance- I taught the program that ecologically responsible shoes were not made of leather. Practical shoes are not too expensive, and can be washed. Comfortable shoes had good arch support. Cute shoes are blue or yellow, not black.

The superrules used the rules and detailed information to make value judgements. It learned to tell me that acceptable shoes met the criteria for ecologically responsibility and practicality. Optimal shoes meet the conditions of acceptable shoes and are also not too expensive (and possibly cute)!

That may seem like a lot of work for picking out your shoes. But just think of the enormous machines that filled the basements of universities- the original computers- which did with thousands of dollars and thousands of man hours what would take a calculator of the day no trouble to reproduce.

The power comes with what you can do with more complex questions. What if, for example, I was not trying to match shoes to my quirky wants and needs- but trying to match the bizarre symptoms of a patient to a disease?

Turns out this has already been done, using another logic programming language called Lisp. Mycin was developed in the 1970s to help doctors diagnose and treat rare blood diseases. According to wikipedia, Mycin's inference engine, loaded with information not unlike my standards for selecting shoes (though much more complex), accepted yes/no input from a long series of text questions, and then listed the likely bacterial interloper, complete with a list of other likely candidates ranked in order of its confidence in the diagnosis. Mycin outperformed general practice physicians in diagnosing these rare blood diseases, and held up pretty well against specialists in the field.

Mycin was the predecessor to CADUCEUS. CADUCEUS's amition was to diagnose more than blood diseases- extending to about 1,000 different internal medicine condtions.

So the "Emergency Medical Hologram" seen in Star Trek: Voyager wasn't as far out there as he seemed. We don't have any holograms that can wield a scalpel- but we do have artificial intelligence inference engines capable of flipping through every condition and symptom known to man, and making a guess at diagnosis and treatment.

I wouldn't want to give up my health insurance just yet- trained professionals will always be necessary to assess the patient and enter the symptoms, to review the findings, and administer treatment. But imagine what a difference such a system could make to a third world clinic staffed by one overworked doctor. Imagine how a system like CADUCEUS could help stumped doctors diagnose a condition with irregular symptoms. Imagine colonists far away from Earth, their physician killed, and decades left before the replacement will arrive.

The possibilities are endless...and they all begin with one little line of code.

New Studio Ghibli Convert

About ten birthdays ago I got these funny little white and grey bean bag creatures from a Japanese friend. She told me they were her favorite cartoon characters- and they sure were cute.

It wasn't until recently that I discovered what these little toys were. They are otedama: palm-sized bean bags that can be used for juggling or playing a traditional Japanese game. My particular otedama are very special. They are Chū and Chibi Totoro.

My husband wanted to see a Miyazaki film after hearing a screenwriter say that My Neighbor Totoro was his favorite film (and a good thing, since his kids wanted to watch it non-stop). We got a copy of My Neighbor Totoro (Tonari no Totoro in Japanese), and I immediately fell in love with Miyazaki films.

Like all the greatest kids' books and films, My Neighbor Totoro appeals to both children and adults. Miyazaki uses the animated medium to reintegrate people of all ages with the sense of wonder that is our birthright as human beings. My otedama characters are tiny versions of the much larger Totoro- a sleepy forest spirit who wakes now and then to perform miracles like stirring the wind, turning seeds into trees, and helping little girls grow up.

If you have kids and they've never seen this film, watch it with them. If you don't have kids, watch it anyway!!

We were so impressed by Miyazaki and his production studio that we're eagerly seeking out and watching every film that has come from Studio Ghibli. A few of these films stand out as tremendous works of fantasy- so I'll be reviewing them in future entries.