January 08, 2009

The Gravity of the Situation

In my 2008 roundup, I mentioned that I had some plans for my blog for the new year. One of the things I've been wanting to do is post some of my short fiction. For various reasons (including that it is a bunch of tedious no-fun), I'm terrible about submitting my stories for publication. However, this doesn't mean they have to go without an audience.

In honor of my co-moderating a session on science fiction at ScienceOnline09, here is one of my science fiction stories. I hope you enjoy it.

The Gravity of the Situation

Daria clung to the rope ladder, her knuckles white. Her arms and legs shook. Her eyelids were screwed shut, but tears still squeezed through.
This shouldn’t be this hard, she pleaded, but she knew no one was listening.

Her baby brother, Yuri, never had any trouble with the ladder. He loved swinging on it. He’d jump out of the tree house if Mom hadn’t forbidden it. So would his best friend, Timofy. They were having a blast up there now, laughing and shaking the ladder as hard as six-year-old arms could move it.

Daria knew she was barely three feet off the ground, but it made no difference. A chasm gaped below her feet, and the feeble swaying of the rope felt like an earthquake. She couldn’t let go. She couldn’t open her eyes. She could barely even breathe.

“Daria!”

The ladder shook harder. She gripped it tighter, her arms cramping.

“Daria, please!”

The words promised salvation, but to reach for them, she’d have to let go of the ladder. She couldn’t.

“Come on, Daria. Everything’s okay. You’re perfectly safe. You’re here with me on Peregrine Station. Please wake up.”

Peregrine. With a gasp, Daria woke. She flipped over onto her back.

Eoin was propped up on one elbow next to her, frowning with concern. “You okay? That looked like one hell of a dream.”

“It’s an old one.” Daria blinked hard, clearing the last of the tears from her eyes. She wished she could shake the dream as easily. The feeling of motion, twenty years old, clung to her.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No." The word shot out of her before she could make her tone match Eoin's friendly one. She patted his arm in apology. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”

Eoin brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Good.” He relaxed and lay back down, chuckling. “These bunks are pretty small even for two perfectly sound sleepers.”

“I’m sorry,” she said absently. She took a deep breath and concentrated on pushing her pulse back down. She hadn't had that dream since college, but it seemed to be making up for lost time. She could still feel the ladder swaying. She sat up and turned to lean against the wall. Sound-dampening paint over smooth metal, it was chilly against her bare back, but it was solid.

Eoin sat up too. "Sure you're okay?"

"I will be." She smiled at the tall, black-haired Aussie, immensely glad she hadn't been sleeping alone, more glad to wake up next to him. "Thanks."

He sketched a half bow. "What are friends for?" The muscles in his bare chest rippled invitingly.

Daria had met Eoin when her company hired him for this mission. It had been lust at first sight, which had made her wary. It could make for a great assignment or the world's longest yearlong trip, depending on his feelings and whether hers lasted once she got to know him.

Ten months in, everything was going beautifully. They even laughed at the same things. They hadn't talked yet about what could happen when they were back on terra firma, but she thought this might be a good opportunity. She opened her mouth.

"Eoin--" The world wobbled. She grabbed his arm. "Did you feel that?"

"I feel fingernails." He sounded a little too tolerant.

"Sorry." She loosened her grip. "Just sit really still for a minute."

She waited what seemed like forever, barely breathing and trying not to squeeze Eoin's arm again.

He was less patient. "I'm sorry." He shook his head. "I don't--"

Daria felt a stronger heave. "Damn!"

Eoin's eyes were wide "What was that?"

"The gravity unit’s destabilizing, I think." She thought hard and quickly. "How secure is your lab?"

"Against gravity?" Eoin frowned. "I'm not sure. I thought your units were fail-safe?"

"It'll cut out everything over a gee and a half, but you can do damage with a lot less."

Eoin looked worried.

Daria wanted to reassure him, but she wasn’t sure there was time. "Okay, get your cute little butt over there and make it as stable as you can. Get anything fragile onto the floor. Spread out or brace anything that's stacked. Be quick. Radio down to Malang and tell..." She glanced at the clock. "...Didi what's happening. Then get someplace safe and stay there." She patted his bunk. "This should be a good place to ride it out if you strap in."

She stood up and started throwing on clothes. Eoin followed her lead. "Can you fix it?"

She shook her head. "Not the control module, which is what this feels like. It’s pretty rare for one to destabilize, but when they go, they’re very unpredictable. I've got backups."

"Let me know when you've got it taken care of." Shirtless and shoeless, he was gone after one quick kiss, running down the long gray hall toward his radiation lab.

"Be careful!" She headed the other direction, still buttoning her shirt. Daria's lab, where she kept the modules, was near her cabin and the control room. It was a much longer trip from his. This place was far too big for the two of them. If everything went well, its final population would be much bigger. Then maybe there'd be some more color to the place.

She walked as quickly as she dared, bracing herself for another wobble in the gravity field. It came as she was putting a foot down. The floor seemed to drop away from under her, leaving her dangling over forever.

Then it was over, and Daria stumbled as her locked legs took her weight again. She staggered to the nearest wall and sagged, clinging to the recessed rungs on the wall for support. She fought for air. A small voice she hadn't heard in years chittered in the back of her mind that she was going to die.

Daria forced herself to take a deep breath. Get a grip! She had a mess to fix.

She had invented the prototype for the gravity generator in college. Studying math at the Saint-Petersburg State Institute of Technology, she’d had access to all the science and engineering journals she could ever want. Lifelong acrophobia had kept her obsessively tracking the latest gravitational research, even though it was outside her field. In one article, she'd half-glimpsed a pattern in the data. She hadn't been able to resist.

She'd pestered engineering students she knew with half-formed questions, bought bits and pieces at salvage, and learned to solder. She laughed at the resulting jumble and plugged in the power. The gravity surge bounced her tailbone painfully off the floor before the circuit blew.

She still didn't understand all the details of how she’d accomplished it, but for a change, she was controlling gravity. The feeling was addictive. She changed her major to engineering and filed a very quiet patent application.

She decided against graduate school when no one would guarantee her a free hand to direct her own research. Instead, she shopped herself around to the multinationals until she found one that promised to fast-track her design. Contract negotiations went smoothly--once she convinced them that unless she could keep control of her project and oversee the dirtside testing, she'd find another company.

There was very little culture shock involved in the move from St. Petersburg to Indonesia, mostly because Daria spent all her time in the lab. She and her team refined the unit until the power consumption made it practical for industrial use. Then she concentrated on making it space-worthy.

Once the generator was scheduled to be installed in an experimental orbiting station, Daria announced she was going with it. Acrophobia be damned. She wasn't about to hand her baby over to someone else.

If the station had been a government project, her fears would have ruled her out immediately. As it was, she’d lied her way through psychological tests. She’d doped herself with sedatives and recited Pushkin from memory to keep her heart rate somewhere near normal for the medical tests. The doctors had still looked at her skeptically. But when she'd reminded the board about her contract and told them she could perfect the mechanism faster with first-hand data, they'd agreed she could go.

Daria had insisted on taking this job. Now she had to finish it, even though the serenity she’d faked for the tests was gone. Eoin was counting on her. The success of the mission, his experiments, even her control of her project, hinged on her doing this right.

She made herself loosen her grip. She shifted from rung to rung, not letting go of one until she was holding securely onto the next. It was progress, but it was slow.

Finally, resting her forehead against the cool metal wall, Daria knew it wasn't working. She was no more than halfway to her lab and still further from the generator. The fluctuations in the field were coming more frequently, and they were starting to ripple, turning the corridor into a shifting hillside.

Each heave left her shaking, weaker and closer to panic. The babbling doom in her head was louder. She had to do something while she and the field were still experiencing stable periods. She waited where she was through three more cycles, trying to shut it all out. She looked for a calm inside of her she wasn't sure existed.

She let go and ran, using the adrenaline from her fear to power her legs. The corridor flashed by unseen as she concentrated on her goal.

Daria could see the door to her lab when the world heaved again. The floor tilted away and she was falling downhill. She knew she should let herself go, tuck up and concentrate on landing, but her panic-laced body had its own ideas.

Her outstretched arms, braced against the fall, hit first. Her left wrist gave with a stab of pain. She would have screamed if her chin hadn't landed next. Then she was too busy trying to stay conscious.

When her vision cleared, Daria pulled herself to her knees. Her left arm wouldn't support her, so she limped along on three limbs. When gravity shifted, she clutched at the hard flooring and panted. She heard whimpering, but she didn’t have attention to spare to shut it off. She just kept dragging herself down the endless gray hall.

Then she was at her lab, then inside, in front of the cabinet where the extra modules were stored. They were up top, so she opened the door, a neutral gray like the rest of Peregrine, and hauled herself up the shelves. She'd just let go and pulled a module from its cradle when the world wobbled again.

It was weak compared to some she'd felt, but it was still too much. She dropped the module and grabbed again for a shelf. The module bounced hard off her bare right foot before hitting the floor. Pieces skittered into the corners of the lab, but Daria wasn't in any condition to notice anything outside herself.

When everything stabilized, Daria gently moved the two remaining modules to the floor. Then she closed the cabinet door, leaned her back against it, and slid down beside them.

She indulged in a few tears, then found she couldn’t stop. She barely noticed the pain in her foot or wrist.

Daria knew what to do next. She needed to get back on her feet, grab a module and walk, without stopping or panicking, to the control room. She also knew it was impossible.

All her life, she’d watched people around her do things she couldn’t do--things she couldn't think about without her heart racing and her knees buckling--and do them as easily as they breathed. So many rites of childhood had been closed to her because she couldn’t do something as simple as climb a tree or let go at the top of a slide.

One of her strongest childhood memories involved a family vacation in the forest. She didn’t know which forest, and she couldn’t remember what else they’d done on the trip. The part she remembered was sitting on the first landing of an old fire tower, unable to go any further up, unable to get back down alone.

There she'd sat, abandoned and terrified, while the rest of her family laughed and jumped around above her. Each time the tower swayed in the breeze, she'd been sure it would tumble. The shock of each footfall echoed in her thundering heartbeat.

Her father had grumbled about having to carry her back down. Her mother had told her she'd outgrow it. She hadn't. Growing up had made no difference. All her work on controlling gravity hadn’t earned her a thing. She was just as useless as she’d been before she started.

The tears kept coming.

"Daria?"

She jerked her head up at the noise and bumped it lightly on the cabinet. She was swearing when the station's communication system crackled again.

"Daria, can you hear me?" Eoin's voice was tinny.

She scooted along the floor to her desk and pulled herself up. Another wobble dropped her into her chair. It rolled a little, and she grabbed the desk to steady it. When the surge passed, she hit Respond. "Are you okay? Didn't I tell you to strap in?"

"I'm on my way there now. Just finished in the lab. There's no major damage yet, but I'm not sure how secure everything is. Down is rather arbitrary just at the moment." He sounded cheerful. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

Daria considered handing the whole mess over to him. Unpredictable gravity didn't seem to bother him and changing a control module wasn't difficult, just plug and play. She could walk him thorough it over the com. He could handle it and she could....

What? Give up and huddle in the corner? Was she ready to be that useless? She sat up straight. "Thanks, Eoin, but I think the best thing you can do is be somewhere safe so I don't have to worry about you." She bit her lip, then took a deep breath. "I'll call if I need help."

"Yes, ma'am." She could hear his grin. "You know where to find me."

"I do. I will." Then he was gone, and Daria slid back to the floor to crawl limpingly to the modules.

As she unbuttoned her shirt, she asked herself what she thought she was doing. She'd had a perfect opportunity to let someone else take care of everything, and she'd pushed it away. Eoin probably would have found the trip down the hallway fun, like those rollercoasters that everyone but her seemed to love.

At least he was safe. And within com reach if she needed him.

She tucked one module into each sleeve and twisted the shirt until they felt secure. Tying her shirt around her waist one-handed was exhausting. When she finished, she dragged herself over to the door.

She looked to her right down the corridor toward the equipment room. Crawling was tempting, and so was the panicky flight she'd used earlier. But she knew she wouldn't get that far with just one good hand, nor could she afford to fall and break more modules.

She was going to have to do this on her own two feet, without any shortcuts. Leaning against the doorframe, she slowly stood up. Another heave made her wish desperately to be back on the floor. It was hard and tended to hit her unexpectedly, but the fluctuations in the field were less terrifying when she didn't have far to fall.

She tried looking toward her goal, but the long straight hallway stretching into the distance was too intimidating. Instead, she looked at her feet. She took one small step away from the door.

"Only five hundred or so left to go." Even to herself, she sounded hysterically cheery. She concentrated on taking another step.

This pulled her hand off the doorframe, and she felt a moment of unthinking panic. She stepped back toward the wall, close enough that her hand could touch it, but far enough away, she hoped, that she wouldn't smack into it if it were suddenly downhill.

The rungs weren't far above her hand, but Daria avoided them carefully. If she grabbed onto one, it would take too much work to let go. She wanted all her energy for walking. She took another step.

She adopted a shuffling step that kept her feet close to the ground and her weight centered above them, like she was walking on ice. Still, when gravity dropped and the floor no longer pushed reassuringly on her soles, she reflexively slammed the foot in the air back down for support, sending her drifting. Normal gravity was restored before she got very high. She wanted to stop to recover, but she didn't let herself. Another step.

She wasn't as lucky with all the fluctuations in the field. One wave tilted the floor below her almost vertical, or so it felt, and she had to run to keep her feet under her. It was hard to stop running when everything stabilized. Without the throb from her wrist at each jog to remind her of the consequences.... She pulled herself back to a shuffle. Another step.

Each time Daria staggered away from the wall, she moved back to it before going on. Every time another heave brought the portentous babbling in her head to a crescendo, she was less sure of her ability to go on. Still she moved forward.

When the texture under her hand changed, she looked up. She was standing next to the viewing portal. She'd reached the center of the station. The equipment room was only another twenty feet away.

Relief flooded through her, leaving her wobbly. Daria sagged against the glass. It was cool, and she turned to rest her forehead against it.

Out the window, framed by the walls of the station, distorted by layers of glass, lay Earth.

Daria frowned at her old nemesis. Ever since she'd been old enough to understand how gravity worked, she'd resented the Earth, resented its ability to stop her life cold just by tugging on her. It had stolen so much. She thought about the decades of mindless terror, sweating palms and useless legs.

She'd dedicated her entire adult life to eliminating its power over her. As she looked at Earth, she realized for the first time what that meant. Somewhere along the way, in trying to escape from the planet's grasp, she'd gone from letting it determine what she couldn't do to letting it dictate what she did.

She still wanted to hate the planet. Yet from up here, her tormentor almost looked beautiful, blue and white and nearly small enough to hold. The feeble pull it exerted wasn't even a factor in her current situation.

She thwacked her forehead gently against the glass. She'd left the Earth behind months ago. It wasn't the problem now. She couldn't blame the station's fluctuating gravity either, since she'd had acrophobia all her life. The only constant in the situation was her--her fear.

She blinked. She'd spent all her efforts on the wrong piece of the puzzle. If she'd only carried her problems with her when she left Earth, all the time she'd worked to control gravity had been--

No. Daria laughed at herself. It hadn't been wasted.

Despite the start of another upheaval in the gravity field, Daria smiled down on the planet far below her. She hadn't escaped the thing she'd most wanted to leave behind her, but living in orbit around the planet, she could hardly claim her work hadn't gotten her anywhere.

And after that kind of journey, how bad could twenty more feet of hallway be? Daria took a deep breath and pushed away from the window. Trailing her hand along the wall, she told herself, "One more step."


***

"I take it everything's fixed then?"

Daria lazily looked up from where she was slowly twisting the dial on the gravity generator back and forth. Eoin was leaning against the inside of the doorway. He looked a little green.

"Eoin!" Daria realized what she was doing and dropped her hand. Just as quickly, she reached for the knob again and dialed normal gravity.

He put a hand to his stomach. "Thank you, I think. Hopefully that will help everything stay down where it belongs." He sighed. "You sure know how to make a man seasick."

"I didn't...I wasn't...." Daria closed her mouth, then started over. "I'm sorry."

Eoin waved that away. "I'll be fine. I was a lot more worried about you, especially when you didn't answer my call."

"You called?" She looked at the com.

"Only about a dozen times. What's the matter with--hey! You're hurt." He knelt beside her and touched her wrist.

She'd forgotten about it. She hissed in pain. It was about twice normal size and faintly purple.

"Yeah, that's no good. You look a little shocky too. I should get you somewhere..."

Trying to figure out how to confess that her dazed condition wasn't due to her wrist, Daria didn't notice him reaching for the field generator. Eoin had it dialed half down and was turning back to her before she could protest.

She squawked as he swooped her up and stood. She buried her head in his shoulder and braced for the panic.

"Did that hurt? I figured it'd be best if I did it all at once."

Daria frowned up at Eoin. "No. I...I'm fine."

"Good." He stepped out the door and headed back toward the cabins.

Daria took a deep breath. No fear. No chittering. She wasn't comfortable, but.... She waited. The panic didn't come.

Maybe it was exhausted. She certainly was. Or maybe Eoin's arms were just a patently safe place to be. Either way, she'd take it. She'd earned it.

She snuggled closer. "So, Eoin, did I ever tell you I'm afraid of heights?"
Continue reading...

Delicious Madness

March will be great music month. Among other things, Madness will be releasing their new album, The Liberty of Norton Folgate.

"Madness?" ask those of you in the U.S. "Didn't they do that throwaway, ubiquitous pop song way back, 'Our House'?"

Well, yeah. That too. But even at that point, as odd a set of boys as they were, they weren't all fluffy fun.

Tomorrow's (Just Another Day)

I hear them saying it gets better every day.

Since then, they've only gotten better. They broke up, went and did other stuff, and came back better than ever. Of course, they were still making great songs about criminals and other marginal people. This one features Ian Dury in one of his last performances before he died.

Drip Fed Fred

We'll take pity on your souls and only cap your knees.

The only problem with Madness these days is that they go so long between albums. Their last, a return to their roots covering ska and reggae songs, was released in 2005. It contains a great cover of "Lola," but this one is my favorite.

Shame and Scandal

Son, I have to say no. The girl is your sister, but your mama don't know.

I can't wait to see what's next.

January 07, 2009

Science and Fiction--Writers Respond #2

Continuing from Monday's post, I'm summarizing the responses of science fiction writers to the questions Peggy Kolm and I asked about the relationship between science and science fiction to help us prepare for our session at ScienceOnline09. Peggy has started with the scientists' answers.

Links to all the responses are listed on the wiki page for the session (if we screwed up and missed you, please tell us). The quotes below are excerpts. You can follow the links to each writer's full answer.

Today's question:

What is your relationship to science? Have you studied or worked in it, or do you just find it cool? Do you have a favorite field?

A number of the respondents have no "official" background in science but have studied on their own.

I consider myself a science enthusiast...

...I have studied bits and pieces of science. I think I know a bit more about biology and evolution than I do about, say, complex subjects such as the eleven dimensions or string theory or quantum theory. I have a lot of sociology-type experience in college primarily because I wanted to be an evolutionary biologist before I decided literature and writing was more up my alley. I really find myself fascinated by primates and how close they are to us (and if you researched you'd be absolutely astonished at how intelligent and "human" they really are).
--Shaun Duke @ The World in the Satin Bag


I just find it all cool as #$#, but I have no professional standing in it whatsoever. I was trained as a historian, and I’m a recovering management consultant. So when it comes to science, I’m a generalist, and probably a dangerous one at that.
--David J. Williams @ The Mirrored Heavens


At this point in time my wife is the chair of a physics department. When we met, she was a senior in high school planning on becoming a physics professor and I was a theater major in college who had always had an interest in science. We are very close and in many ways I shadowed her through grad school, helping to write papers, design research studies, and work on curricula.

My involvement was strong enough that I developed a close friendship and intellectual bond with her adviser that led to my own work in science education, writing and editing various curriculum projects in physical science. I have a broad field interest in science though my work in science education is most deeply rooted in basic physical science.
--Kelly McCullough @ Wyrdsmiths


I know enough to be able to get myself into trouble. I come off as knowing more than I actually do. I can talk to scientists -- and I can get way, way over my head. (As an aside, I thought creative writing and art classes were stocked with weirdos until I took some science classes intended for non-science students...)

While I try and keep an eye on things in general, I do have a strong bias for paleontology and evolutionary science. And if I am fortunate enough to be able to make a living with my writing and art, I'd like to stay in school and give the sciences another serious shot. I may never do real research but I do want to be able to write popular science works at some point in my life -- we need to improve the level of scientific knowledge in the general population and this is the only way I can contribute to that.
--Sean Craven @ Renaissance Oaf


I almost got a minor in computer science but didn't quite complete it. I'm researching some things on my own at the moment - neuropsychology, mind control, and absolutely everything that involves the impact of chemicals on the body... for one thing, as the people around me age, it gets a little more personal.
--JesterJoker @ Sa Souvraya Niende Misain Ye


There were also quite a few writers with backgrounds in biology.

I'm a limnologist. No, that isn't someone who studies limbs. It comes from a Greek word limnos, which means fresh water. I study fresh water (e.g., lakes, rivers, ponds), and everything that's in it and around it. Heck, I even received a masters of science degree in it. I worked for a while in several universities and colleges, teaching biology courses, then decided to get out into the "real world" and became an environmental consultant. It means that I get to zoom around in speed boats, take water and sediment samples then analyse them and write reports for clients that teach them how to be good environmental citizens....
--Nina Munteanu @ The Alien Next Door


I'm a marine biologist in a former life; I tried to revisit molecular genetics in the current one, but sucked at it.

It's all cool until you actually have to learn the nuts and bolts, at which point it becomes drudgery. While my field of (former) expertise is the behavioral ecophysics of marine mammals, my current favorite field is neuroscience— partly because it really puts that arrogant little homunculus in its place, and partly because it's easy to pan for sf gold in that stream without actually knowing very much.
--Peter Watts


I am a PhD in fish genetics from the Oxford of the East –Alahabad university ,India –so have a penchant for scientific contents especially genetics ,behavior and so on.
--Arvind Mishra @ Science Fiction in India


And of course, we have the golden age SF standard, the writer with a background in physics, engineering or computers.

My masters was in electrical engineering and my Ph D was in astrophysics. I have also published papers in psychology and evolutionary biology.
--David Brin


I am a working scientist, an associate professor of astronomy at the University of Wyoming. I’ve worked at National Laboratories and Observatories as well, and get to play with all the best toys like the Hubble Space Telescope and the Very Large Array in New Mexico. It’s a science fiction lifestyle at times, and when I’m not in a faculty meeting or similar activity, I love the job. It pays better than the fiction gig, too.
--Mike Brotherton


My background is in business, computer and electronics. I do have a Bachelor of Science degree, and I have worked in the electric transmission and distribution field for many years and have a strong understanding of electrical engineering.

...My favorite fields in science are related to propulsion systems and space elevators.
--Robert Evans @ SciFiWriter


I have a computer science degree, and I've been working as a self-employed programmer for two decades now. And yes, it's cool. I don't bury my fiction with excessive detail about computers or programming, but I do like my robots: after all, they're the ultimate in mobile computing ...

Humanoid robots and self-aware computers please!
--Simon Haynes @ Spacejock News


As for me, my degree is in psychology. If you look at my interests on my Facebook profile, it will tell you that I'm specifically interested in "Perception, persuasion, subversion, irrationality and identity." As if that weren't enough, I've also studied physics at a fairly basic level, am working at correcting a deficiency in my biology education, and corner any specialist I can get my hands on to make them explain what they do.

So, answers to the next question will be posted on Friday. Find out what everybody said.

How important is it to you that the science be right? What kind of resources do you use for accuracy?

January 06, 2009

Looking Like a N00b

It's always a little strange when I'm out in the blogosphere and run into someone who really ought to know better but persists in acting like the n00biest of n00bs. You know, someone with their own blog. Someone who runs around under their own (full, easily Googled) name, making bold assertions about contentious subjects.

Someone who still doesn't understand that you don't get to have things both ways. For example:

  • If you use a theory to support argument, and someone goes to the trouble of finding a critique of the theory, you don't get to say, "Nah, I don't want to read it right now. I don't really want to talk about the theory."
  • If you want to talk about the biology behind a social phenomenon, you don't get to complain when people talk about all the social layers one has to dig through before one can even begin to think one has hit biology.
  • If you want to base your objections to someone's statement on your personal opinion, you don't get to object when your opinions become a topic of conversation.
  • If you call women the "weaker sex," you don't get to complain that they're calling you names or that (irony of ironies) they're too mean for you.

Okay, the usual caveat about rules applies. The blogosphere is a freewheeling, anarchic place. Subject to the whims of the blog administrator, you can do any of these things. You do have choices--but they have consequences.

What you can't do if you insist on breaking rules is expect anyone to think you're anything but a dishonest troll. Dishonest because you're not following the rules you tried to set up for the conversation. Troll because you tried to insist the conversation only happen the way you wanted it to.

Now the rest of these rules only apply under the assumption that you don't want to be called a n00b or a troll.

  • Don't assume the blog owner is on your side. Comments thanking you for adding to the conversation are not the same thing as an endorsement of your position. Opposition keeps discussion going.
  • Don't retreat to your own blog to announce that you've brought your toys home with you. This only emphasizes that you were losing.
  • Don't try to carry on the conversation by email, where you think no one else can see how badly you're losing. I am now in possession of a whine that outshines anything you've put into the public eye, and you're trusting my ethics and the blog owner's (which you complain about in the email) to keep it private. Think about this.
  • Don't complain that comments you made on a public blog were quoted later on the same blog. Public is public. If you want to clarify, do it in public.
  • If you're going to send me an email that says you feel personally violated, don't include a snippet of a private email from the blog owner to you. Private is private.
  • If you're going to send it anyway, certainly don't make it a snippet that makes it clear that you've been suggesting he should help you somehow because I'm a meanie. I will call you a wuss. Wuss.
  • When I tell you I won't post your email but you should because you may not like how I characterize it, listen. It's not a threat. It's not intimidation. It's just basic internet education.

Kind of like this post.

What Peggy Said

I'm going to miss David Tennant as Doctor Who. Really, really miss him. I could go into great detail as to why, but y'all don't really need that information. Suffice it to say that I have a thing for enthusiastic tall guys who always look like they're thinking. And Scottish accents. And--

Anyway.

Peggy at Biology in Science Fiction put up a great post about one of the other reasons I'm disappointed to see Tennant replaced--the replacement himself.

Some of the rumors were that the eleventh Doctor might be played by a black actor such as Chiwetel Ejiofor or Paterson Joseph (who would have been my pick) or a woman like Alex Kingston or Catherine Tate. It doesn't take more than a glance at Smith's photo to realize that he is neither a woman, nor black. Maybe he'll be the greatest Doctor ever, but even if he is, I'm still a bit disappointed that he's a super young white dude.


Peggy's post digs into the history of Doctor Who to show that there's no reason that a Time Lord can't regenerate with a different gender or skin color. It's just stodgy conservatism on the part of the producers. They could have deliberately set out to make a more interesting choice, something that would have changed the dynamics of the show in interesting ways, but they didn't.

Bored now.

Grr.

January 05, 2009

Science and Fiction--Writers Respond #1

Back in November, Peggy Kolm and I started soliciting input from science fiction writers and science bloggers about the relationship between science and science fiction for our session at ScienceOnline09. We got an amazing response. Thank you to everyone who took the time to answer.

Everyone who responded is listed on the wiki page for the session (if not, please let us know and we'll fix it), but that's a lot of information, so over the next week or so, Peggy and I will be summarizing and highlighting some of the answers. Today, I'm looking at the answers to our first question for science fiction writers:

Why are you writing science fiction in particular? What does the science add?


There were almost as many distinct answers to this question as there were people who answered it, but a few themes did emerge.

1. History with the Medium

I have always loved science fiction from the first time I saw Star Trek to the first real sf novel I read (Philip Jose Farmer’s A Private Cosmos). I read everything science fiction I could get my hands on, and watched every TV and movie as well. I had decided by the time I was eleven that I wanted to be a science fiction writer. Writing is a compulsion, and it’s time intensive with small chances for financial success, so you’d better just spend your time writing what you love best.
-- Mike Brotherton


I write and I have a strong interest in the sciences and I've read science fiction all my life. Given this, what else can you expect from me?
--Sean Craven @ Renaissance Oaf


My SF reading began with Asimov and Arthur C Clarke, both of whom placed a great deal of importance on the science in their work. I guess it was natural that when I started to write, science fiction was my first choice.
--Simon Haynes @ Spacejock News

2. Asking the Important Questions

...it's the only genre big enough to wonder where we're headed and what we're doing to ourselves as a species. In fact, any story that shoots for that goal, that explores the impact of science on flesh, becomes a work of science fiction pretty much by definition.
--Peter Watts


I’m writing science fiction because it’s the only literature that addresses the issue of our long-term survival (or not) as a species. No other branch of writing out there gives an author a canvas broad enough to grapple with the question of Where All This Is Going—in fact, I’d go so far as to say that most contemporary mainstream “literature” could care less about anything that’s occurring outside the angst-ridden local coffeeshop where all the MFAs hang out (and I guess this is the part where you ask me how I really feel).
--David J. Williams @ The Mirrored Heavens


Science fiction allows us to bring the weight of real knowledge to bear on the human condition. Took me a good twenty minutes to get around to admitting that... Sounds pretentious as hell, doesn't it? But it's true. Most fiction springs from situations that are entirely human -- SF is a wonderful way to deal with the fact that humans are a singular phenomenon in a much wider universe. And the more science we've got, the more it affects the human condition.
--Sean Craven


3. Scope for Imagination

For me, I think the science brings the story that important aspect of strange. It feels damn good to be overwhelmed by a book with /everything/ in it, but I find it hard to even come closer to some of the trippier things.
--JesterJoker @ Sa Souvraya Niende Misain Ye


For me writing science fiction is an escape from the mundane affairs of everyday and a glimpse into a future; a chance to imagine what might be, whether it is scary or a paradise, and the opportunity to add my distinct and different voice to those that have already imagined a future, in order to tell others what I feel could happen.
--Robert Evans @ SciFiWriter


Science is like a huge, ever-changing toolkit or framework. There's just so much incredible stuff that you can never run out of ideas or possibilities.
--Simon Haynes


And at the end of the day there are some speculative questions that are just plain interesting -- my most recent SF piece deals with the idea that humans aren't made for rational thought -- and that if given access to hardcore rationality they might not reach the decisions that are healthiest. That kind of "Huh, what if?" thought process is really important to me.
--Sean Craven


4. Added Realism

...I can and do try to make my fantasy as rigorous as possible and I very much approach creating worlds and magic systems from the point of view of someone who wants an internally consistent and theoretically robust system. My studies and work in science and science education have made me a much better writer of fantasy.
--Kelly McCullough @ Wyrdsmiths


Perhaps what science adds, when I make an effort to really use it (and I guess I use science all the time in science fiction, but when I talk about really using it I mean actually going out of my own little box to find new concepts to work with or trying to portray a better grasp of something I don't know a lot about), is a sense of reality. The idea that this story I'm writing could actually happen. That's important to science fiction I think: that the science make the stories and imagined futures seem real enough for the reader to actually consider the possibilities. The science makes the fiction stronger.
--Shaun Duke @ The World in the Satin Bag


Science provides the premise and the plot tools to throw characters into the realm of “other” or “unknown”, which is a wonderful way to study human nature. Science fiction, says Robert J. Sawyer, is about ideas that mean something to a society and a people. It is also about how we react and function with the challenges of the unknown. Science grounds the reader in reality while the writer takes them on a fictive journey. It is a little like doing a dry-run to prepare oneself for possibilities. Science fiction often turns into science fact.
--Nina Munteanu @ The Alien Next Door


For me, science adds reality to a story, adding to the writer’s authority and the reader’s suspension of disbelief which is critical to the success of a story. Plus it’s completely fascinating! I mean, you can figure out a fascinating magic system, but it isn’t real. How relativity works is totally fascinating too, and the fact that it is also real adds a dimension fantasy can never have.
--Mike Brotherton


5. Sharing the Science

Writing to me at least is for my own satisfaction first and a very strong motivation to share the gained knowledge however meager that may be to fellow beings who need that knowledge. Sf writing serves to satiate my innermost desire.
--Arvind Mishra @ Science Fiction in India


I write SF because I am a scientist and science (particularly environmental science) is both familiar to me and fascinates me. I write this because it is one of my passions and I totally believe that a writer should write about something they are passionate about.
--Nina Munteanu

6. Not About Science

In fact, most SF authors read History far more than science. Indeed, history -- and its possible extensions in time or other universes -- is far more often a topic of interest than any specific point of science. SF should have been called Speculative History.
--David Brin


As to the science: it’s critical for me, but nonetheless it’s perhaps not as central as it is for many SF writers. My main focus is on the politics/geopolitics, and I’m interested in the science insofar as that creates parameters that shape/constrain the decisions of leaders at various levels of the military-industrial complex. That said, SF is all about the corruption (dilution?) of technology’s promise, so the science is by definition high in the mix. . . .
--David J. Williams


7. Science in the Way

This is part of the reason I naturally go toward fantasy; I don't think I know half enough to create a decently bizarre SF story.
--JesterJoker


Many of the areas that I find most interesting in terms of story have reached a point where I don't find much that is written in them genuinely scientifically plausible. I'm not at all sold on the singularity. I find the idea of faster than light travel ever more implausible. Ditto serious extra-solar system travel. I still like aliens, but I don't see us interacting with them anytime soon, not physically at least. I've never bought time travel as a science trope, though I love magical time travel. Psionics? Nope. Etc.
--Kelly McCullough

Personally, I combine a lot of these elements when I'm writing. I've read SF most of my life, so the conventions and vocabulary of the genre are something that come easily to me. I love the sense of discovery and a lot of the really geeky details of science. Writing something that lets me share that is just plain fun.

On the other hand, there are many ways in which what I write doesn't have to be science fiction at all. I could talk about colonial economics and rebellion and the intersection of cultures in a historical context just as well. But if I do that, it would be very easy to get bogged down in the ongoing debates over a particular set of events. It would also be far too easy for readers to think that this is all in the past. Setting my story on another world avoids the problem of too much specificity and reminds everyone that history can repeat.

Again, a big thank you to all the writers who answered. Coming up on Wednesday:

What is your relationship to science? Have you studied or worked in it, or do you just find it cool? Do you have a favorite field?

January 04, 2009

Go. Read.

Tired. Headachy. Blegh.

Luckily, others are up to the task of being entertaining and thought provoking where I am not. (Did I mention blegh?)

You're reading Greg's Congo Memoirs, right? Funny, thought-provoking, alien and universal stories, these are. Good stuff.

For another great set of posts, try Juniper. She just took a good hard look back at someone who probably saved her life but unintentionally hurt her doing it. Find out what it all has to do with being a scientist.

JLK is also telling stories. Hers is about how she ended up as an egg donor and what the process was like. Very cool.

Doug just has a question: "Why do kids always throw up in the middle of the night?" In his case, the answer involves CSI.

PalMD has some questions too, but his are a little more serious. Definitely worth some thought.

Monica has a new blog, part of reminding herself that her feminism isn't incidental. I'm looking forward to more.

And finally, if you're in New York, here's an event for next weekend that might interest you.

REQUIREMENTS FOR PARTICIPATION:

1) Willing to take pants off on subway
2) Able to keep a straight face about it

**THIS IS A PARTICIPATORY EVENT. DO NOT SHOW UP UNLESS YOU PLAN TO TAKE YOUR PANTS OFF.**

January 03, 2009

Atheists Talk--Michael Newdow

On Dec. 30, 2008, Michael Newdow filed suit in U.S. District Court to stop prayers and religious invocations at Barack Obama's Jan. 20, 2009 presidential inauguration.

Newdow's lawsuit, titled "Newdow v. Roberts," included group plaintiffs such as the American Humanist Association, the Freedom From Religion Foundation, Atheist Alliance International, and Minnesota Atheists. The lawsuit also featured individual plaintiffs, such as Michael Newdow, Dan Barker, Annie Laurie Gaylor, and Minnesota Atheists president August Berkshire.

Michael Newdow will be our guest for the entire hour to discuss his latest attempt to uphold the wall of separation between state and church.

We welcome questions during the program at (952) 946-6205 or radio@MinnesotaAtheists.org.

"Atheists Talk" airs live on AM 950 KTNF in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area. To stream live, go to http://www.am950ktnf.com/listen.

Podcasts of past shows are available at http://MinnesotaAtheists.org or through iTunes.

Program Notes are available at http://MinnesotaAtheists.org.

January 02, 2009

Do They Know Who She Is?

My husband has been browsing Sociological Images lately. A couple of days ago, I heard a familiar voice and turned around to watch a music video with him. It was Amanda Palmer of the Dresden Dolls, and I was really curious why Sociological Images was interested in the video. It's pretty straightforward piece of cabaret imagery, except for the addition of a bunch of footballers. Kind of fun and exactly what I'd expect from her.

Leeds United


Turns out, the problem wasn't with the video. The problem is that Palmer's record label wanted to remove or alter the images of her belly in the video.

Um, she has a belly? Sure....

Luckily, she responded like, well, like Amanda Palmer.

to which i reply: where have you been for the last five years?
do you have any idea who i am, what band i’ve been in, what kind of music i write, who my fans are….who didn’t send you the memo that i’m not britney spears? i’m not TRYING to look hungry. i’m trying to look HOT. there’s a difference.


Seriously, dudes, have you even listened to the song that got the Dresden Dolls all the radio play? This is not party pop just because it has a good melody.

Coin Operated Boy

can you extract me from my plastic fantasy

And then there's the stuff that no major radio station is going to touch.

Lonesome Organist Rapes Page Turner

I joke about trash 'cause it takes class to be enlightened

Once again, who did they think they were dealing with? Did they think she'd flutter her lashes in confusion and acquiesce? Did they she'd be so embarrassed by the whole thing she'd stay silent about it?

Yeah, right. She asked them to drop her, told the world, and started a rebellyon.

I love Amanda Palmer.

January 01, 2009

100% Artificial

First up, Greg has up his long-awaited post about human behavior and the naturalistic fallacy. Go read. Plenty of dishonesty to argue with in the comments, too.

Done? Okay, onward.

I went to a New Year's party last night (like you do), hosted by my friend Doug and his wife. Doug teaches fencing in the Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA):

The SCA is an international organization dedicated to researching and re-creating the arts and skills of pre-17th-century Europe. Our "Known World" consists of 19 kingdoms, with over 30,000 members residing in countries around the world. Members, dressed in clothing of the Middle Ages and Renaissance, attend events which feature tournaments, royal courts, feasts, dancing, various classes & workshops, and more.


SCA is an immersive experience for many of the people who participate, a distinct subculture that combines a love of elements of the past with other, more modern geekery. One of my favorite observations of the evening was that someone had to go buy a new computer immediately when her old one died because it was the end of a reporting period and she had to consolidate all the information on anachronistic pursuits that people were sending her.

My husband and I were among the small minority of guests who don't belong to SCA, making us an excellent audience for some well-worn stories and observations about the group. Hmm. Tell me a story? Okay.

One of the other people at the party is a blacksmith and junior high science teacher who told two stories about looking at SCA with outsiders' eyes. One story was about his receiving a medal for excellence and trying to explain how it felt to a fellow teacher with no SCA affiliation.

"So, you're a sports coach. Do you belong to any professional organizations?"

"Yes. I belong to X and Y and--"

"Right. Do they hold annual banquets and give awards?"

"Sure."

"Do they give a Coach of the Year award?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever won one?"

"Well, no."

"If you did, and you tried to tell me about it, would I understand why it was so important?"

"No, probably not."

"Yeah. It's like that."

"Oh."


The other observation he made followed his wife's story about trying to track down someone who had been showing up at SCA events to tell self-agrandizing stories and claim he'd been awarded status by people in another SCA group. It was an interesting story of small groups and long memories, attempted confrontations and shifting lies.

At the end, her husband talked about trying to explain all this to non-SCA folk.

So they went to him and said, "Look, you can't pretend to be a knight, because we were pretending to be knights first and we've put a lot of work into it, and we say so."


I laughed, but maybe not for quite the reasons he thought. I suspect that someone more connected to SCA would see some tension between the crafters and the fighters in his very different takes on the two events. Me? I was just reminded that all these social structures that we live with are just that--edifices built on a foundation of mutual agreement.

Despite claims that governments are maintained by force, what regime can withstand a real loss of faith among the governed? If they could, they wouldn't need to spend so much time demonizing "enemy" states.

All that spam offering to sell you a university degree is only sent because people have agreed that a degree is a valid measure of education. Yet many of the honorary degrees awarded each year are completely insignificant recognitions of the depth of education of the honorees.

Churches, sports leagues, dictionaries, arts critics--they all depend just as much on the recognition of both insiders and outsiders that they have some power to decide how all these things should be done and to recognize who is doing it right. And all of that was impressed on me once again by two stories over a dining room table and a wee glass of absinthe.

Not bad for a night of fun, friends and frivolity.

December 31, 2008

2008 in Blog Posts

This was my first full year of blogging, and I'm pretty happy with what I accomplished. Here are some of the posts that have gotten the most attention.

For some reason, a bunch of people do Google searches for the word "loner." A lot of them end up at this March post on why Facebook is just about the right amount of interaction--maybe.

Blogging really started ramping up in May, with a short essay on the costs of breaking rules in writing (and why I'll do it anyway) and a guest post on science blog content at Greg Laden's Blog. The guest post just goes to show that if one wants lots of comments, one should talk about PZ Myers. Also from May, my recipe for the perfect margarita has stayed popular. Please just remember that it's dangerous.

In June, I flexed a little blogging muscle (with much help) to get a problem cleaned up that should already have been fixed, told a little story about too many ex-boyfriends, and spelled out my motto.

July brought one reason it's sometimes better to be vague in your science fiction than to be wrong, a lesson in how not to take critique (the closest I've come to jumping into the framing debate), and some musings about the utility of offense as a concept.

August featured a pair of posts on Muslim censorship of fiction. One event was very high-profile, with an interesting dimension not much talked about. The other was much quieter, perhaps deservedly so. Also, my views on "tolerance."

September was the start of my career in poliblogging. I put up my first post on Bachmann and weighed in on the economy, looking at the reasons the social safety net isn't obsolete and at the failure of our long-standing economic policy. Oh, and apparently I get into arguments occasionally.

I continued to beat on Bachmann in October. "Realists" and libertarians got theirs too. I also summarized a very long set of arguments over whether the concept of human races has any biological validity. Short answer: no. Then I went and got myself called a science blogger by a bunch of people by writing about the value of diversity. That was weird. To lighten things up: sensical nonsense and writing for wildly diverse audiences.

I got a little more sleep in November, but I still managed to make people cry, talk about religious belief, wave a flag for the defective, and argue about belonging and identity. That last one contains one of the more interesting comment threads on this blog--better than the post itself, I think.

December has seen me mashing up science and fiction in ways I never thought I would. I committed fanfic as illustration and used the literature/pulp debate to talk about how the language of science can be exclusionary. This month also produced what is already my most linked and viewed post ever: How to Hijack a Thread. Apparently, this "meta shit" works for people. Who knew?

So what will 2009 bring? There are a couple things in the works, here and elsewhere, but I'm not not one to count chickens and all, so you'll have to wait. Mostly, I hope the new year brings me the kinds of friendship and food for thought that the old one did.

Have a very happy new year, everyone.

December 30, 2008

Rarefied Air

Every once in a while, something comes along to remind me what an atypical life I've built for myself. This time it was someone reacting skeptically to PalMD's statement that he worries every day about balancing work and parenting, 'cause, you know, guys don't really do that. Um, what? I wanted, as usual when confronting the combination of rudeness and ignorance that can be the internet, to step on the fingers responsible.

So I stepped back instead. Was there any reasonable place for the doubt to have come from?

Yeah, there was. A lot of fathers really do overestimate their contributions to the household because they're doing more than their fathers did and more than the world tells them they must do. "Equal" parenting, when broken down by what each partner actually does, is often not equal.

So why did I have to step back to remember that? Because in my world, things don't usually work that way. Really. This is my world:

  • Lots of child-free couples. Some because they don't like kids. Some for medical reasons. Some because pursuing vocations and avocations at the same time doesn't leave much time for good parenting. Some because the desire for children doesn't outweigh the hassles of becoming gay parents.
  • Adults who are unpartnered for various reasons. No parents in this group.
  • Stay-at-home parents of both sexes who decided they'd stay home, not for financial reasons, but to work on their art. They were mostly delusional, at least while the kids were too young for school.
  • Gay parents who by default won't be breaking things down by stereotyped gender role, because the trash would pile up or they'd starve.
  • Two-career parents who truly co-parent, usually with the help of family located nearby, because otherwise, they wouldn't get any child-free time to share with each other.
  • A few divorced parents with joint custody.
  • Finally, way out on the periphery, a couple of couples who do things more "traditionally." Dads who bring home the paycheck while Mom is primary caretaker. Even there, Dad comes home from work at a decent hour and unwinds by playing video games with the kids. Any work that has to be done in the evening is done at home after the kids are in bed, which means Dad won't be getting credit for face time in the office.

This is my life. These are my friends of my generation. Does this look anything like the rest of the world? No, and I like it that way. I arranged it that way. But it does give me an unusual outlook sometimes.

In the end, I was a lot more gentle with the uncomprehending commenters at denialism blog, because it made me sad to think they don't live in the same world I do.

But really, y'all are welcome to move here anytime.

December 29, 2008

Thin Ice

There comes a point, at least once in every Minnesota winter, when the worst thing that someone can do is try to keep the sidewalks free of snow. Most of the time, we want clean sidewalks but not always. With months to go yet before we see warm, dry ground, we've already had a few of these days here.

They come in two flavors. The first kind of day when benign neglect is helpful is the melty day. This is when the ground is still rock hard, but the sun comes out and a warm breeze blows in. Piles of snow shrink and flow away--toward the frozen-over storm sewers. Then the sun sets.

Two things can happen at this point. The water can mix with the packed snow still on the sidewalk and turn into a slushy mess that eventually freezes with boot- and bikeprints all over the surface. It sounds ugly, but the alternative is for the water to flow in thin, smooth sheets over a clean sidewalk. The result is an patchy skating rink, tilted slightly toward the street and traffic. I'll take the rough ice.

The second kind of day when maintenance is unhelpful is the very cold day--with snow. By very cold, I mean right around 0 degrees Fahrenheit. Snow at these temperatures is pretty rare, since air that cold is very dry. It generally requires warmer air up where the clouds are. But it does happen.

When it does, all the businesses downtown get out their power brooms to keep the snow from building up on the sidewalks. This is what they do for any snowfall, and I'm usually happy to see the brooms. Usually, they make my walk much easier. Not on the cold days, though. When slightly damp snow hits a 0-degree sidewalk, it sticks, and no broom is going to get it back up. All the broom can do is knock the snowflake flat.

Power broom, aka sidewalk polisher.
Usually seen with a weather enclosure.

Once again, the safest place to be in on a sidewalk that no one cares for too zealously. It won't be clean, dry pavement, but it won't be a highly polished surface either.

So what do you do when you're stuck walking on the shiniest of ice? Again, two scenarios (aside from getting down on your ass and scooting along the ground). The first, and most popular, is the penguin shuffle. This involves tiny little steps to keep your feet under you and hands held somewhat stiffly by your sides, ready to be thrown in whatever direction is needed for balance. It also involves small cheeps as the inevitable slips and slides still occur.

The other option is much faster. It will get you plenty of strange looks, though, as it will be less familiar looking to most people, even if no dorkier than pretending you're a penguin. If you do tai chi or bellydance or practice any number of other forms of exercise that place a high value on strong, smooth movement, this will be easy. It'll still feel funny, but you'll get the hang of it.

Bend your knees.

Really, that's it. That's the best advice for walking on ice. Bend your knees as much as is comfortable and keep them bent as you walk along. You'll find you don't lift your feet as much, so they're always near the ground. When you do start to slide a little, your legs be in a position to deliver maximum power, flexing or extending, whichever way you need to go. But you won't need it as much, because your center of gravity will already be lower.

Thus ends today's lesson on ice. I didn't really have a point in writing this much about it, but it seemed, somehow, that if I was going to deal with as much of it as I already have this winter, I ought to get something out of it.

A blog post will have to do.

December 28, 2008

Elite Bastardry

I consider myself as pretty egalitarian, but I may have to start rethinking that assessment. This is the third Carnival of the Elitist Bastards to feature my blog. And this one comes with a rank in Starfleet. How cool is that?

Okay, it might be more cool if you knew what I was talking about. The Carnival of the Elitist Bastards is a fairly new blog carnival, formed in protest of the political fetishization of the "average Joe." It celebrates excellence, expertise and a wee bit of justified arrogance. For the record, the included posts do justify the arrogance, if I do say so myself (which I do).

So go check out this month's carnival at Submitted to a Candid World. When you're done and wanting more than this month's short list can provide, head on over to Cafe Philos for last month's. Excellent reading both.

December 27, 2008

Atheists Talk--Perry Hackett and PZ Myers

2008 has been a fun and interesting year in the life sciences. The Nobel Prize in biology was awarded for making animals glow. Evolution of complex, novel mechanisms was demonstrated in bacteria better known for making people sick. Scientists sequenced the genome of the woolly mammoth. We'll chat about all this and more.

Joining us in the studio to discuss all the exciting developments in 2008 will be Dr. Perry Hackett, geneticist from the University of Minnesota, Twin Cities. In the second half of the hour, we'll also be speaking by phone with Dr. PZ Myers, biologist at the University of Minnesota, Morris and prominent atheist blogger. Interviewing them will be artist Lynn Fellman.

Listen to the show tomorrow, December 28, at 9 a.m. Central time on AM 950 KTNF or stream it live (use zip code 55401 if you're from out of state). You can also subscribe to the podcasts on iTunes or through our feed.

If you want to meet the cast after the show, join us for brunch at 11:00 at Q. Cumbers in Edina.