"Unexpected Outcomes" by Tim Pratt
I like the idea of metafiction (whatever the idea in question happens to be), but I'm rarely too pumped about the execution. In actual practice, stories about the nature of story or the human drive to create or whatever else often end up dry or twee or not half as clever as the author imagines, more MFA fodder than fiction made for folks to enjoy. Tim Pratt, however, has done something absolutely stellar in the most recent Interzone, heartfelt and bold and thought-provoking.
"Unexpected Outcomes" starts off as a clearly non-fictional recollection of the morning of 9/11. Pratt describes the phone call, the first images on the news, the second plane arcing toward the second tower in an eloquent but familiar way.
And then everything pauses.
Transcendent posthuman types appear in every "living room, or hut, or yurt, or bathysphere," thanking folks for their participation in a vast sociological study. When questioned, the figures reveal that the world is really a Matrix-style historical simulation, and everyone alive is an AI duplicate of someone circa 2001. This is pretty standard SFnal fare, but it's the setup, not the point: Pratt follows his own AI copy as he and the fictional world react to the revelation of inauthenticity. His relationship with his real-world-future-wife fizzles; he abandons writing fiction and drives cross-country from Oakland, CA to Boone, NC (!) where he went to college.* It's the sort of thought experiment we've all conducted in the shower -- how might my life have diverged if _____? -- but converted to story with stunning honesty and married to a classic SF trope.
As I think about the story I keep coming around to the sheer boldness of the exercise: it's really what makes the whole thing hang together. So much is inherently wrapped up in these kind of speculations, fantasy and fear and saudade, and it takes brass [generative organs of your choice] to navigate that tangle. Other than Adaptation, I don't know that I've seen someone tackle metafiction so well.
*How much do I enjoy reading about my mountain stomping grounds in a British SF mag? Mucho.
"Unexpected Outcomes" starts off as a clearly non-fictional recollection of the morning of 9/11. Pratt describes the phone call, the first images on the news, the second plane arcing toward the second tower in an eloquent but familiar way.
And then everything pauses.
Transcendent posthuman types appear in every "living room, or hut, or yurt, or bathysphere," thanking folks for their participation in a vast sociological study. When questioned, the figures reveal that the world is really a Matrix-style historical simulation, and everyone alive is an AI duplicate of someone circa 2001. This is pretty standard SFnal fare, but it's the setup, not the point: Pratt follows his own AI copy as he and the fictional world react to the revelation of inauthenticity. His relationship with his real-world-future-wife fizzles; he abandons writing fiction and drives cross-country from Oakland, CA to Boone, NC (!) where he went to college.* It's the sort of thought experiment we've all conducted in the shower -- how might my life have diverged if _____? -- but converted to story with stunning honesty and married to a classic SF trope.
As I think about the story I keep coming around to the sheer boldness of the exercise: it's really what makes the whole thing hang together. So much is inherently wrapped up in these kind of speculations, fantasy and fear and saudade, and it takes brass [generative organs of your choice] to navigate that tangle. Other than Adaptation, I don't know that I've seen someone tackle metafiction so well.
*How much do I enjoy reading about my mountain stomping grounds in a British SF mag? Mucho.