Adam-Troy Castro

Writer of Science Fiction, Fantasy, Horror, and Stories About Yams.

 

On Those Who Can’t Let Go of the First Thing

Posted on July 10th, 2017 by Adam-Troy Castro

An artist creates a Thing.

It turns out to be a popular Thing.

The artist is acclaimed and praised for this Thing.

The artist follows up with another Thing.

This second Thing is also acclaimed and praised, but because it is somewhat similar to the first Thing, the artist now has a trademark: various different kinds of this Thing.

So the artist stays in the same neighborhood, creatively, turning that artist’s byline into a promise for more of that Thing.

Then the artist departs from formula.

People who loved the work before now are perturbed. How dare the artist depart from this Thing?

Okay, they say, you can do it this once, but go back to the Thing!

The artist goes back to the Thing, but eventually departs again. And again.

People say, I miss when the Artist was doing Thing!

Over a decade or more of further work, that artist completely reinvents his/her body of work, showing a level of versatility that no one even suspected.

Nothing the artist has done is a betrayal of Thing.

But a lot of people completely ignore all the recent work and snort that the artist was only good at doing variations of Thing.

Others say, I still wish the artist will go back to doing Thing full time.

The artist continues to refuse to be confined to the box.

Now you have people saying, the only good thing that artist ever did was Thing! Pressed on this point, they then say, oh, I stopped consuming the artist’s work with Thing Plus Two. No, I’m not familiar with anything the artist produced in the last thirty years. But I happen to know! Thing was the only good thing!

The people who say this imagine themselves experts. Bigger experts than those who have stayed with the artist, through thick and then, liking some Things, hating others. Their knowledge of the one Thing is superior, in their view, to the knowledge others have of multiple Things.

Any discussion of the artist’s new work, they will intrude to talk some more about The First Thing.

This is common.

And this is why we can’t have Nice Things.

Story Excerpt: “A Touch Of Heart”

Posted on July 9th, 2017 by Adam-Troy Castro

From “A Touch of Heart,” by Adam-Troy Castro and Alvaro Zinos-Amaro, available on 11 July from Lightspeed Magazine. 

The gate-keeper left his post. A long time later he returned, a curious rictus on his face, and without a word opened the gate.

“Su Feiyan will see you now,” he announced with absurd formality, and closed his eyes as Dou entered the splendid grounds.

Dou heard the soothing tones of a piba-mandolin, and he followed them to a pagoda that seemed to grow, mushroom-like, directly out of the mountainside. It was a scented place, surrounded by a garden greener and cooler than the land that surrounded it, so peaceful in its way that even Dou’s raging blood calmed, if only a little. He drew close, not knowing whether he should enter without invitation. Then an ancient man emerged from the pagoda, wearing a silk mandarin cap the likes of which Dou had never seen.

The man performed the form of salute known as the bow with clasped hands, or gongshou, and then seemed to look without effort into Dou’s innermost being.

“You have traveled a long way,” Su Feiyan said.

Dou removed the knapsack from his back, where its leather straps had long left callouses on his skin. “Your estate is secluded,” he noted.

“I have lived a life disturbed with blood and turmoil. I seek quiet isolation, to calm my spirit while life remains in me. But I see that you mean no harm to me, and so I bid you welcome.”

“Blood and turmoil?”

“I am retired from the Black Touch.”

“Ah.” Dou had not understood the impulse that had led him to seek out an audience with this man, but now a certain excitement flared within him, and he found himself unable to hide a responding smile, except by stroking the unkempt, stringy white hairs that passed for his beard. “I heard of your order once, when I was a child. You were said to be the most divine assassins in the province–in the prefecture–or perhaps the county–or quite possibly the world.”

“Divinity is not to men,” Su said. “It is true that those in the order can perform tasks that you might consider miracles, but only in the service of reducing the labor required by our various commissions. We have always believed that in those cases where one can solve a problem by crooking a finger, it disturbs the world less to do so than by making it a labor for oxen.”

“But you are a talented assassin, are you not?”

Without explanation, Su bent forward and picked up a stone. He held it up to the sunlight, as though to examine its finer features, and then promptly put it into his mouth and ate it. “Assassination is the most blunt of our methods. We know six Modes of Transmigration, and seventeen ways to manipulate the vital energy qi that flows through the tripartite mid-region of the human body. We can puppeteer the mind, waltz through walls, spoon time, transform colors into sounds and words into daggers. We can also submerge secrets in the vortices of the twin rivers of space and time, where only we can retrieve them. Next to these arts, the ability to end a human being is mere sleight-of-hand. But yes; I have killed, in the service of restoring life’s balance, or solving those problems that could not be resolved in any other way. Please do not tell me that it is what you want.”

“It is. I offer my life’s savings in exchange for the death of my neighbor Gan Shihuangdi.”

The True Threat to Humanity is Not the Vindictive, But the Smug

Posted on June 27th, 2017 by Adam-Troy Castro

Reflecting on legislators sneering that people with diabetes don’t deserve health insurance, coming out against emergency care for people with drug overdoses, declaring that people with debilitating medical conditions just need to get second and third jobs, mocking the very idea of pre-natal care, and so on, I am forced back to a conclusion that I first had shortly after attaining adulthood, to wit: the true danger to the well-being of the world has never been flying saucers firing destructo-beams, or the dead crawling from their graves, or invasive human-duplicating seed pods.

It isn’t even Nazis; they were terrible, of course, but they were like any other extremely virulent disease in that the symptoms were so terrible, so immediately destructive, that they could only reach a certain threshold and no farther before the rest of the organism reacted to contain and wipe out the infection.

One could say the same thing of terrorism. It’s a pox, but the primary distinguishing trait of any pox is that it puts up a billboard and says, “Hey, everybody! I’m over here!”

No, people; the true danger to human civilization is now and has always been smugness, the aggressive attitude that the problems of other people don’t matter, that we can mock them and ignore them with impunity because they will never touch us. Vindictiveness exists and does its damage, but it would never get away with even one tenth of what it does without the dismissive mockery of the smug, the proud declaration, “That’s not my problem.”

Similarly, global warming denialism is not so much the problem as the smiling declaration of those who believe it but say things like, “Ha, ha, ha! All it means is that we have a few less beaches!” Dennis Miller, mocking concern for polar bears, saying, “I don’t care!” to the cheers of his audience. The pieces of shit who drive around in trucks jerry-rigged to belch extra and blacker smoke, because the people behind the wheel are wired to derive self-satisfaction from aggressive unpleasantness, are in the end a minor problem, less a trend than line noise, but the people who can see environmental degradation happening but still think your concern is hilarious, because concern for anything is hilarious, are the true malignancy and always have been.

Smugness is, “Why should I address this injustice? I’ve got mine. Why should I feed you? I certainly had no problem getting to food today. Why should I care that you’re suffering? I’m over here and feeling fine. I can make matters worse for you if it offers me even the slightest advantage, because nobody’s stopping me and I see no particular reason to care. It’s funny that you would think I care. It’s funny that you think I’m doing this out of any particular meanness. This smirk you see on my face is an expression of my existence as a closed system that does not include you. You’re not my problem. I could not care less, and I have absolutely no difficulty with painting this as a virtue. When you react to my attitude with aghast horror, I not only have trouble seeing why you’ve gotten so worked up, but I think you’re funny, like Curly of the Three Stooges having the pointless fight with the water-spitting oyster in his soup.”

Smugness is the failure to recognize that other people are just a subset of “people.”

Smugness is also, “What you’re worried about doesn’t affect me YET.”

Until, all of a sudden, as the concerned have been warning the smug all along, it does; at which point the attitude always transforms into,

“WHY DIDN’T SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING?”

 
 
 

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