Your prize is a swift kick in the nuts
I was writing up my thoughts on the short story portion Hugo ballot and I got distracted by a very bad story. I'd like to give my own personal award to the very worst piece of fiction I read from last year.
Here's the plot of story: Your boyfriend is a selfish asshole who works twelve-hour days and spends no time with you. You fall out of love with him, and finally you've had enough so you leave him. But you know he won’t let you go, so you try to leave no trace of where you've gone. You've signed on to colonize another planet, a dream of yours he mocked and called crazy.
But your stalker has the money and power, and a willingness to use any means possible to uncover where you’ve gone and he's coming for you.
Bribery, theft, digital trespassing. He'd used a little of each in increasingly desperate measure until he'd found her. He couldn't say he was proud of it, but what else could he have done? He'd been busy with the new dome. There'd been deals within deals to make; water contracts, space commitments, air rights. He'd even had to negotiate which hotel chain's signage would be most conspicuous from the main glidewalk. When he'd come up for air, she'd been gone. Her phone canceled. Her apartment vacated. He'd wasted weeks using conventional means to find her.
Horror story, right? Because we've reached that point in time where we can all recognize stalking as the misogynist act of violence that it is and not some romantic gesture that will eventually lead to lifelong love and happiness between the stalker and stalkee?
No, of course we haven't. The story's told from the stalker's point of view and it's sooooo romantic he wants to reclaim his love object.
The attendant gives a little schoolgirl swoon. Love, she whispers.
Apparently Trent Bishop, stalker, is so super awesome all his friends want to go with him.
"You got me through college and into law school," Carter went on. "Made me stay when I wanted to quit. Kept me straight when I wanted to wash it all away in a sea of drugs. Convinced me that what happened to me mattered-to me."
Trent peered at Carter's face, but the man refused to meet his gaze. "Carter, this is too big a decision to make out of some sense of loyalty."
Carter just laughed and said, "I know."
The punchline is that stalker Bishop will be an sick old man by the time he see here and everyone thinks that his ex-girlfriend Irene, who ran away from Bishop, will be pining for his presence and his old man grope.
At first, I thought this was a darkly comic sendup of the worst that science fiction has to offer, because how could a line like:
Maybe she understands all too well. Her concern is more than professional. Yes, of course. How many greats, he asks, lie between his sperm and her granddaughter-hood.
Or
It's hazy, those early days. Everyone slept with everyone then. Babies were the colony's future and few wombs went unfilled.
be something I'm supposed to take seriously? Wimmen, we're all about making the babies and worshiping ancestral sperm, when we're not being convenient prizes for men to win or motivation for their stories.
But apparently I am, because Trent Bishop is the most awesome guy in town and everyone adores him, some more than others.
"I accepted the way things are a long time ago," he [Carter] said. "Instead, I get to build a world."
"For them?" she asked.
"For him."
Yes, that's the kicker, the best friend who followed Bishop to another planet is secretly in love with Bishop and devoted his life aiding and abetting the stalking just to be close to his True Wuv.
Excuse me while I puke.
Winner of worst 2011 story is "The Architect of Heaven" by Jason K. Chapman.
Here's the plot of story: Your boyfriend is a selfish asshole who works twelve-hour days and spends no time with you. You fall out of love with him, and finally you've had enough so you leave him. But you know he won’t let you go, so you try to leave no trace of where you've gone. You've signed on to colonize another planet, a dream of yours he mocked and called crazy.
But your stalker has the money and power, and a willingness to use any means possible to uncover where you’ve gone and he's coming for you.
Bribery, theft, digital trespassing. He'd used a little of each in increasingly desperate measure until he'd found her. He couldn't say he was proud of it, but what else could he have done? He'd been busy with the new dome. There'd been deals within deals to make; water contracts, space commitments, air rights. He'd even had to negotiate which hotel chain's signage would be most conspicuous from the main glidewalk. When he'd come up for air, she'd been gone. Her phone canceled. Her apartment vacated. He'd wasted weeks using conventional means to find her.
Horror story, right? Because we've reached that point in time where we can all recognize stalking as the misogynist act of violence that it is and not some romantic gesture that will eventually lead to lifelong love and happiness between the stalker and stalkee?
No, of course we haven't. The story's told from the stalker's point of view and it's sooooo romantic he wants to reclaim his love object.
The attendant gives a little schoolgirl swoon. Love, she whispers.
Apparently Trent Bishop, stalker, is so super awesome all his friends want to go with him.
"You got me through college and into law school," Carter went on. "Made me stay when I wanted to quit. Kept me straight when I wanted to wash it all away in a sea of drugs. Convinced me that what happened to me mattered-to me."
Trent peered at Carter's face, but the man refused to meet his gaze. "Carter, this is too big a decision to make out of some sense of loyalty."
Carter just laughed and said, "I know."
The punchline is that stalker Bishop will be an sick old man by the time he see here and everyone thinks that his ex-girlfriend Irene, who ran away from Bishop, will be pining for his presence and his old man grope.
At first, I thought this was a darkly comic sendup of the worst that science fiction has to offer, because how could a line like:
Maybe she understands all too well. Her concern is more than professional. Yes, of course. How many greats, he asks, lie between his sperm and her granddaughter-hood.
Or
It's hazy, those early days. Everyone slept with everyone then. Babies were the colony's future and few wombs went unfilled.
be something I'm supposed to take seriously? Wimmen, we're all about making the babies and worshiping ancestral sperm, when we're not being convenient prizes for men to win or motivation for their stories.
But apparently I am, because Trent Bishop is the most awesome guy in town and everyone adores him, some more than others.
"I accepted the way things are a long time ago," he [Carter] said. "Instead, I get to build a world."
"For them?" she asked.
"For him."
Yes, that's the kicker, the best friend who followed Bishop to another planet is secretly in love with Bishop and devoted his life aiding and abetting the stalking just to be close to his True Wuv.
Excuse me while I puke.
Winner of worst 2011 story is "The Architect of Heaven" by Jason K. Chapman.