There are
several significant features which identify the stereotypical cyberpunk
story. Most readers would agree that one
is setting. Near future almost necessary
to bear the sub-genre’s label, Gibson, Sterling, Shiner, Rucker, and other
writers known for the form did their share to propagate visions of technology
burgeoning in our lives just a few years in the future. The stereotypical cyberpunk view rarely one
that looked long term; a life replete with technology to the point of utopia
was not on the agenda. Such perspective appeared
in the wave of science fiction that came next: the Singularity, the Accelerated
Age, whatever you want to call it. Segueing the two nicely is John Varley’s Steel Beach (1992), which examines the personal effect of having an
existence where technology is expanded to the point it can provide every
dream. What will humanity want
next? Varley’s answer is disturbing.
Steel Beach is the story of Hildy Johnson. A magazine journalist living on Luna, he
works for the Nipple, covering whatever entertaining material he can get his
hands on. Society lacking for nothing,
his reports typically feature the latest in sex change technology, what actor A
is doing with diva B, and the latest in body modifications. The two-hundredth anniversary of the
Invaders’ takeover of Earth upcoming, Johnson’s editor assigns him the task of
producing an article a day comparing life when the aliens came to Earth to life
on Luna now. But before the reader can
groan “Oh no, here comes a lengthy, episodic,
self-indulgent examination of how the future is different from Earth today”,
Johnson’s life takes a twist. Living in
an underground Texas cabin, complete with slivers, horse shit, and a doctor
whose medicine bag contains more whiskey than medicine, Johnson’s ennui begins
to dig its thorns deeper and deeper into his mind, and he takes to reckless
behavior. A slash-boxing competition
injuring him severely one day, in rehab a virtual dream changes his life. Meeting Luna’s Central Computer while under,
he emerges with a new perspective pushing him to seeking meaning like he never
had before. Trouble is, which is it,
real or virtual?
A classic
post-modern idea (searching for meaning in a meaningless life) imbued with all
the tech and ideas of another post (post-humanism), Steel Beach is, if nothing else, a smorgasbord of ideas. The tree man, the brontosaurus negotiation,
the Texas Disneyland, the pleasure tech, “zombies”—and on and on goes the list
of futuristic imagination. Vacillating
between pertinent to to the main storyline to digressive merely for
creativity’s sake, the smorgasbord can sometimes feel like too much for one
sitting. At about the halfway point,
however, the novel starts to gain momentum and drive itself towards what is a
very personal, relevant conclusion. But
the opening, for as colorful and innovative as the ideas are, still requires
some patience to wade through.
Varley
making these easy for the reader, the wading is through a shallow river. The ten years between novels showing, the
prose of Steel Beach is honed razor
sharp. Varley’s anti-establishment act
is dressed to kill in black sarcasm and candid observations on people and
society. That some plot material is
indeed extraneous is something realized only after the fact. Varley’s voice strong and clear but his ideas
iconoclast, in my notes I have “an irreverent Ray Bradbury”. Given the humanity underlying the cutting
prose, I stick by it.
In the
end, Steel Beach is a bildungsroman
as only science fiction can write: discovering life and self in utopian Lunar
setting. Endlessly inventive, a
post-modern ennui must be dealt with as life replete with every pleasure one
could want doesn’t (apparently) make everything better. Varley’s prose slicing and dicing, the
surplus of ideas move fast and quick as Hildy the newspaper reporter attempts
to sort out life.
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