Concept Sci-fi - Issue 01.pdf - Concept Sci-fi - allforjesus2001

July 2008 Issue #1

WWW.CONCEPTSCIFI.COM

INSIDE:

Short Stories...

- The Thursday Night League by James Hartley

- Softlight Sins by Peter F. Hamilton

and many more! Plus...

- An exclusive interview with author Michael Carroll

- Writing the Perfect Scene by Randy Ingermanson

JULY 2008 ISSUE #1

WWW.CONCEPTSCIFI.COM

In This Issue

Editorial

Fatal Vision

by Andrew Males

Credits

An interview with Michael Carroll

The Thursday Night League

by Richmond A. Clements

by James Hartley

Writing the Perfect Scene

Softlight Sins

by Randy Ingermanson

by Peter F. Hamilton

Superhuman by Michael Carroll

The Pet

Reviewed by Richmond A. Clements

by Samantha Frankenstein

TAXI

The Oldest Man in the World

by Wayne Summers

by Richmond A. Clements

JULY 2008 ISSUE #1

WWW.CONCEPTSCIFI.COM

Editorial

Welcome to the first issue of the Concept Sci-fi E-zine. Considering the fact that Concept Sci-fi was only launched at the

beginning of May 2008, I’m absolutely delighted that the E-zine has become a reality so soon afterwards.

We have some great stories in this edition. My overall aim is to include works both from authors who clearly know their

trade inside-out and those who can write well, are still learning and have great ideas. I hope you approve of the selection!

On a slightly embarrassing note, I have to tell you that I’ve broken my own rules regarding ‘no reprints’! Two of the

items in this issue have seen the light of day before...

The first is Softlight Sins by Peter F. Hamilton – how could I refuse when he volunteered his short story to me!

The second is an article on writing technique kindly donated by Randy Ingermanson, entitled ‘Writing the Perfect Scene’.

I have no qualms about re-printing this, even though it’s been on his website for a while. It is an excellent article that

many authors, both new and established, could benefit from reading.

I'd also like to personally thank Sam Shishekli for creating the cover art. You can visit his website at

www.virtualgeneration.co.uk

And finally, this is the first issue of the Concept Sci-fi E-zine and we're keen to improve. So if you have any suggestions

or comments, please email feedback@conceptscifi.com . I hope you enjoy reading issue #1 and keep coming back for

more.

Gary Reynolds.

Editor.

Credits

Artwork

Sam Shishekli

Fiction

James Hartley, Peter F. Hamilton, Andrew Males, Samantha Frankenstein, Wayne Summers, Richmond A. Clements

Non-fiction

Richmond A. Clements, Randy Ingermanson

Special Thanks

Michael Carroll

JULY 2008 ISSUE #1

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The Thursday Night League

by James Hartley

It seems quite a coincidence that the Doxzji have a seven day week the same as we do, but it's a fact. They have what

appears to be a period of religious observance once a week. On Thursday night, local time. I say "appears to be" because

no human has ever been allowed to attend, nor to look at the writings they use during that time and no other.

I got about as close as any human back when I was working for the U.N., before the Doxzji finally dissolved it. Some

kind of emergency came up that required the presence of the head Doxzj, and I was sent to fetch him from "church."

There were two guards on duty at the door. I explained what I wanted in the pidgin we used in those days, and one went

in to fetch the big wheel for me. I got a glimpse through the door as the guard went in, and another glimpse as the guard

came back out with the bigwig.

It sure did look a lot like church. They were all sitting in rows, facing the far end of the room, and they were singing or

chanting or something like that. At the far end was a single Doxzj standing on a platform. And he was wearing clothes.

Never saw one with clothes before or since, but this one had some sort of long robe on. He was waving his arms, I think

in time with the chanting, but I didn't get a long enough look to be sure. The bigwig came out, and I led him over to my

car to take him back to the local U.N. headquarters. Damn, that must have been fifteen years ago, only a year or so after

the Doxzji landed on Earth and took over.

The Doxzji don't seem to care what we do on Thursday nights, though. Their "church" is just for them, and we humans

can go right on with our activities. The Thursday Night Bridge League, the Thursday Night Bowling League, whatever.

Or just the Thursday Night League.

***

I had kind of a rough time when the Doxzji got rid of the U.N., about five years after they landed. It took them that long

after the invasion to get their own administration fully in gear, but when they did ours wasn't needed any more. I was out

of a job, and so were a lot of others. But it was no surprise. We all saw it coming for almost a year. The coming loss of

jobs was the number one topic of water cooler discussion. I was the pessimist. "Did you guys see how they got that new

filing system going in their own language? We'll be canned in another month."

"No way!" That was Bob Slater, always the optimist. "They're gonna need us for another two years yet, the people just

won't deal with an all-Doxzji government any sooner than that. Maybe three years."

Helen Canfield was more worried about what would happen than when. "Sometimes I think a lot of the people would

rather deal with the Doxzji than us. They hate to see humans fronting for the aliens. They think we're traitors, quislings."

"That's silly," said Bob. "Right after the invasion they published all those rules, and one was that anyone working for the

U.N. had to stay on and run the temporary administration or get shot. Why should anyone think we're traitors?"

"All those freedom fanatics?" I chimed in. "The ones who thinks it's better to die than give in?"

JULY 2008 ISSUE #1

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"No," said Helen, "lots of ordinary people. They've forgotten a lot of those rules now that things have calmed down.

When they do close down the U.N., I'm going to be ready."

"Ready for what?" asked Bob. "You're getting paranoid about this."

"Could be, but so are lots of others. The people down in Records are setting up a whole bunch of fake ID's in the

computer, and printing papers to go with them. You ought to go down and sign up."

It sounded like a good idea to me, but Bob just laughed. Nevertheless, when I got a chance to go down to Records a day

or two later, I saw "Bob Slater" on the list in front of me. I asked Shirley, the girl in Records, "Are you people doing this

for everyone?"

"Almost everyone," she replied. "There's just a few on the black list, people who have, well, over-cooperated with the

Doxzji. They aren't getting any help from us when they have to get back out into society."

I remembered what Helen had said people thought of us, and shivered a little.

When the break finally came and I was out of work, I made tracks for somewhere about a thousand miles away, where

nobody would know me. I ditched all my real ID and started using the fake stuff that said nothing about U.N.

employment. With nobody living near me who had known me before, I got away with it.

I got a few letters from friends like Bob and Helen, carefully worded of course. Most of the people we knew made it OK.

But Helen sent me a clipping from a town near her. A man, one of those on that black list, moved in and tried to get a job.

The company traced his ID and found he had worked for the U.N. They threw him out. Literally, they threw him out the

door, shouting comments about his background after him. In seconds there was a mob--a lynch mob--and before the cops

could do anything they rode him out of town on a rail. Only they ... no, it's too horrible to repeat. If they hadn't dumped

him right in front of a Doxzji post he would have died, and even with the alien medical treatment he ended up in pretty

bad shape. Helen's so-called paranoia turned out to be the dead straight truth.

***

I had picked the suburb of a minor city in the Midwest to escape to. Many former U.N. people went for little hamlets and

villages too small to have any Doxzji, but I'm a city boy, always have been, and I can't imagine being happy in Lower

Podunk or East Squeedunk, just so as not to have a Doxzji base nearby. On the other hand, if there hadn't been a Doxzji

base ten miles away, I would never have gotten involved with the Thursday Night League, either.

When I arrived here--no, I'm not going to tell you any more specifically where "here" is--I had enough money, my

separation pay, to get a small apartment and eat regularly for a while. Fortunately computer experts are still in good

demand just about anywhere, Doxzji or no Doxzji, so I got a job long before things got desperate. After a while I met

Francine and we got married and bought a house and had a couple of kids.

In truth, things were not all that different from pre-invasion days. In some ways, better. The crime rate was way down

after the Doxzji took it in their heads to shoot all repeat offenders and anyone involved with drugs. In fact, the Doxzji

were probably killing more people in their clamp-down on crime than they had during the brief and almost bloodless

invasion, while their free medical services were saving enough lives to more than make up for it.

But still, we all chafed a bit because we were no longer "free." I'm not sure if those in the Iranian Soviet or the South

African Empire even noticed any difference, but for Americans it rankled a bit.

It was about two years after I got married that I began to hear rumors about the Thursday Night League. It took a while to

figure out that it was not the Thursday Night Bowling League (which met at the Bowl-o-Tron), or the Thursday Night

Bridge League (which held a duplicate game at the YMCA). No, it was something else, something totally different.

JULY 2008 ISSUE #1

Concept Sci-fi - Issue 01.pdf

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