he Writers of the Future Contest has awarded cash prizes to new writers in SF and fantasy since 1984, attracting top-flight judges and promising applicants. The cream of the submissions are anthologized in this series, edited since its inception by Algis Budrys. Each story is also illustrated by a newcomer from a parallel illustrators' contest.
The stories themselves vary widely in length, topic and tone. William Brown's "Home Grown" contemplates the relationship between two artificial servants. In Paul Batteiger's "Like Iron Unicorns," the bloodshed at Gettysburg resonates with a captain's suppression of a rebellion on Mars.
Two scientists discuss the sudden appearance of a time machine in the lighthearted "A Conversation with Schliegelman" by Dan Barlow.
Toby Buckell's "In Orbite Medievali" takes Columbus right off the edge of the Earth, which isn't round yet. In "Skin Song," by Melissa Yuan-Innes, a medical student who feels musical auras fears the touch of dead skin. A dead woman can't cope with her own ghostly afterlife in "As the Crow Flies" by Leslie Claire Walker.
Hunters seek alien game in Michael Jasper's "Mud and Salt." In "Your Own Hope" by Paul Martens, an exuberant recruit revives a doomed mission to communicate with obnoxious aliens. In Gary Murphy's "Pulling Up Roots," a expatriate gives up his humanity to save his adoptive planet. A blues musician raises a demon against his lynchers in Jeff Rutherford's "Daimon!
Daimon!"
The longer works are novelettes that graze the contest's 17,000-word limit. In "Atlantis, Ohio," by Mark Siegel, a Navy officer and a deformed psychic discover a trapped civilization of hostile, prehistoric dolphins.
"Guildmaster," by Dan Dysan, follows the rise of a guild guarding the secret of smithying in post-apocalyptic America. In Ilsa Bick's "The Quality of Wetness," a scientist seeks to imbue synthetic slaves with souls.
Where the future is being made
It would be easy to talk about the controversial imprimatur of the late L. Ron Hubbard, who also founded contest sponsor Bridge Publications. But what's really important here is fostering new talent. Speculative fiction is an organic genre; each new wave of writers breaks the rules and broaches new universes. The encouragement of fresh blood is an important service; perhaps that's why the Writers of the Future Contest continues to draw an A-list panel of judges every year.
Generally speaking, these stories are strong, well-crafted, solid science fiction. Better yet, several reflect an ambition to chart new territory.
There is little need to make allowances for inexperience; most read as well and as provocatively as the works of more seasoned writers.
Someone also remembered to tell these newcomers that fantastic elements and futuristic gizmos are a means, not an end. "Atlantis, Ohio" isn't about homicidal superdolphins; it's about Jake and Lemon and the larger issue of how people relate to others unlike themselves. In fact, this theme of like and unlike runs through several otherwise disparate stories, including the straightforward us-vs.-them of "Mud and Salt," the cultural divide of "The Quality of Wetness" and the exuberant newbie among the jaded in "Your Own Hope."
A few stories buck expectations by visiting the past instead of the future, notably the unusual flat-Earth story "In Orbite Medievali" and the racially charged thriller "Daimon! Daimon!" In others, like "Guildmaster" and "The Quality of Wetness," the past is the future, and disturbingly so.
In each of these cases, it's the characters and their decisions and relationships that live on after the book is filed away.
