And that’s the reason I’m writing science fiction.
July 3, 2015
SO WHY DO I LIKE TO WRITE science fiction? I ask.
That might catch you by surprise.
If you’ve read my work, you might be scratching your head.
Little Lies is set in Mississippi probably day before yesterday.
Secrets of the Dead is set in Germany, Poland, and the United States in 1938.
Conspiracy of Lies is set in Los Alamos and Santa Fe, New Mexico during the early 1940s.
Deadline News is set in the East Texas oilfield during the early 1930s.
The Golgotha Connection is set in Mexico maybe last week.
So what does that have to do with science fiction?
I have used my wild, vivid imagination to create all sorts of wild and imaginative pieces of tools and weapons and machinery that are virtually unbelievable.
In Little Lies, for example, there are people talking on phones.
And the phones aren’t wired into anything.
They are running on cells.
And something called electricity keeps the homes lit at night.
And that borders on blasphemy.
And people actually get up enough nerve to crawl into strange metallic machines with a motor and four wheels and run madly like the wind from places to place.
And they dig fuel out of the ground.
And the fuel costs more than the gold in their rivers.
On more than one occasion, I’ve written about long, sleek, heavier than air flying machines that leave the ground and soar at shocking speeds across cities, countries, and continents.
People are on board.
And they are drinking Cokes and eating peanuts.
Lord, help me.
What is a Coke?
And why would anybody want to drink it?
Dredging out ideas so bold that they require readers to suspend belief when it’s virtually impossible to suspend that much belief, I write about computers and the Internet and digital books, which must have been devised by the devil himself. The concept is so wild it’s almost Frankensteinian. Mary Shelley would be proud.
Rifles fire like machine guns.
Pistols fire like machine guns.
I apologize. I’m ahead of myself.
What is a machine gun?
My stories are fraught with science fiction.
But you don’t write science fiction, you say.
Yes, I do, I say.
If you were reading my stories in 1853, they would all be classified as futuristic and science fiction.
The real world in 1853 would have never foreseen the real world of today, the world that exists around us, the world we take for granted.
In this rapidly changing and mind-bending era, by the time we read science fiction once and then a second time, the technology has become commonplace.