il McCarthy will be a familiar name to the readers of Science Fiction Weekly for several reasons, not the least of which is the fact that McCarthy's science column, "Lab Notes," can be found on this very Web site. McCarthy is able to make complex subjects such as nanotech comprehensible.
But he is also the respected author of such novels as Aggressor Six, The Collapsium, The Wellstone and the upcoming Lost in Transmission (Spectra Books, 2004). He has written the comprehensive nonfiction work Hacking Matter and edited the anthology Once Upon a Galaxy. His numerous nonfiction columns have been seen in the pages of Analog and Wired.
A husband and father, McCarthy has a background in the hard sciences, among them astrodynamics. Even though he has found success in the world of freelance writing, he can still be found at work at the Lockheed Martin Corporation in Denver, Colo., where he designs satellite orbits for flight systems.
McCarthy lives in Colorado, where he continues to write and explore the worlds around us. His Web site is wilmccarthy.com.
I thought there was an undercurrent of Lord of the Flies in The Wellstone. Is that an accurate observation? Was it intentional?
McCarthy: Possibly accurate, yes, since you're by no means the first to mention it. Also Huckleberry Finn, and a bunch of other "boys' adventure" novels. But it certainly wasn't deliberate; what I had in mind was something more along the lines of the Greek epics,
particularly "Argonautica." These are young men banished by a fearful monarchy, and they're on a
perilous journey they may not survive, for the sake of their honor and the future of their nation. It's interesting that to American ears, these two different story types would sound so similar, but under enough stress, I suppose there isn't much difference between young men and adolescent boys. Fundamentally, the Greek epics are boys' adventure novels.
In your research for your nonfiction book, Hacking Matter, did any one item provide more fascination than the others?
McCarthy: The idea of "quantum dots" and "artificial atoms"—designer electron bundles formed in tiny electronic traps—captivated me right away. The thing that really amazed me, though, was that the obvious application—programmable matter or "wellstone"—seemed to have been overlooked by everyone involved in the actual research.
I tried to squeeze some of these speculations out of the physicists at MIT and Harvard and Sun
Microsystems, but finally I gave up and just described, in my own words and images, how such a
technology would work.
The results have been amusing: a pending U.S. patent and several strong expressions of interest from government agencies and venture capitalists, and conference organizers eager to fly me out to explain the idea. My business partner and I are forming a new company around the technology, which we hope to begin marketing in actual products by the end of the decade.
I find it deeply ironic that the invention came out of a science-fiction novel, The Collapsium, and only later found its way into Hacking Matter, a nonfiction
book, and later still into the real world.
In which field do you think the next big advance in science will be—organic or mechanical?
McCarthy: On the nanoscale, the lines between chemistry and physics, mechanics and biology and electronics start to get really blurry. The big advances will probably be in devices which straddle these boundaries. Naturally, I'm biased toward my own inventions, which bridge the gap between chemistry and nanoelectronics. I can't promise great things there, but I'm hopeful.
Was Bloom written as a kind of "cautionary tale?"
McCarthy: Sure, but also as a tale of wonder. Technology presents us with the possibility of terrifying new disasters—like an artificial life form which devours the entire inner solar system—but if we use it right it can also make our lives more rewarding, by shrinking large problems like chaos theory down to human scale. It's that interplay of risk and benefit that interests me most: a world of splendid dangers. Isn't that what we really want?
Was there concern on anyone's part that the use of calculus integrals in Flies from the Amber might alienate parts of the SF audience?
McCarthy: I used calculus integrals in Flies from the Amber, as part of a machine-to-machine conversation on the mathematics of black holes, but although they're accurate, the equations are just there as visual dressing. The reader doesn't have to understand them,
or even look at them, to follow the story.
Anyway, the broader answer to your question is yes, there are things I do which will alienate some of the audience. I think this is inherent in any art form. Either you're a populist, speaking to the general public and breaking very little new ground, or you're an "elitist" speaking to some smaller group about more difficult, more interesting and novel concepts. Not
everyone gets these, or wants to, and that's fine. Science fiction isn't for everyone. But there are people out there with hungry minds, who want a story that's exciting and outlandish but that could actually happen. They want a story that challenges their assumptions and brings new ideas into the world. These are the true science-fiction readers.
Bloom seemed to use elements of both the SF and mystery genres. Which books/authors influenced the mystery aspect?
McCarthy: This is another comment I get a lot, not just about Bloom but about all of my writing. I do read and enjoy mysteries, yes, and I've even written a couple. But I don't see any favorite authors or strong influences there, unless you broaden the category to include political thrillers like Martin Cruz Smith's Gorky Park. I guess the answer is that like any scientist, I see mysteries everywhere, embedded in the world around us.
I find this exciting—a challenge from nature itself—and I also like to dwell on the human implications, whether political or social or philosophical. So I think my work has a lot in common with thrillers, which do the same thing in a more here-and-now sort of way.
Was there someone or something in particular that inspired the "tickle capacitor?"
McCarthy: Heh. You want me to name names? Humorlessness is one of the most crippling human disorders, because it sucks all the joy out of life and also tends to be very isolating. Nobody likes a killjoy! But it occurred to me one day, in reading about the neurology of humor, that it's a curable condition. Probably right now, with technology we've got lying around to treat other disorders. It's simply a matter of recognizing the problem and stimulating a bit of neural tissue.
Does technology dictate what story you'll tell, or does the story come first and you use the tech as needed?
McCarthy: I wouldn't use the word "technology" by itself in this way. I start with ideas, not just technology but a lot of things, from physics and politics to religion and food and sex. The world-building accretes around these ideas, and the characters form in the context of their world. Once I've done all this—assuming I've done it properly—the story really does seem to write itself. Proper world-building and character-building suggest an optimal plot, which seems by the end to have a sort of inevitability. Given the initial conditions, how else could things possibly turn out? I like that feeling. A lot of the science fiction out there feels very flimsy to me, lightly constructed and not well thought out. I'd rather build a steamroller than a dinky little economy car.
What did you learn by editing Once Upon a Galaxy?
McCarthy: Never edit an anthology.
Were you concerned about including one of your own stories in it?
McCarthy: Nope. I have faith in my own work, and a good sense of when I've screwed up and when I've done well. The story was appropriate, and my co-editors agreed.
Aggressor Six is one of my favorite novels of yours—will it be coming back into print?
McCarthy: You ask at a delicate time, since this is currently under discussion. I can't disclose the details, but yes, I think we'll be hearing from that book again.
Did any other genre outside SF hold your interest enough for you to give a try at writing it?
McCarthy: I once wrote a mystery novel called Third Time's the Charm, which was set in the year 2000 and involved no advanced technology. Unfortunately, for some reason the mystery publishers all felt that it was a science-fiction novel, and several science-fiction
publishers felt that it was really a mystery novel. By the time I got an offer on the book I was sick of the whole thing, and stuck it in a trunk. I figure if it's that confusing, it's probably better not to set it loose in the world. But I'm doing a lot of nonfiction writing these days,
and I have to say I love it. It's much easier than science fiction.
Who do you consider your contemporaries?
McCarthy: When I first started writing professionally, there was a whole gang of twentysomething SF/fantasy/horror writers in the Denver area. Sadly, I don't know what's
happened to most of them. This is an industry which eats its young; very few survive those early years. But the successful writers of my generation include Linda Nagata, Sean Stewart, Maureen McHugh and Alastair Reynolds.
What can you tell us about your newest novel, Lost in Transmission?
McCarthy: I can say, with confidence, that everyone reading this should reserve a copy right now. LiT will be my eighth published novel, and the third in the Queendom of Sol series after The Collapsium and The Wellstone. In very broad terms, I'll say that immortality means having to live—possibly forever—in the mess you've created with your own actions. The results are both sad and funny, which from a storytelling perspective is a wonderful combination. And of course there's cool technology.
Will we be seeing a collection of your "Lab Notes" column?
McCarthy: Another question I can't address this month, alas. But it's under consideration. "Lab Notes" is a real kick in the pants, because it's come out every four
weeks—that's 13 times a year—for over four years now. This gives me a chance to explore a lot of different ideas—more than I could comfortably wrap into novels or short stories. It's a conduit running straight from my brain to the audience, with no buffering.
Do you consider human cloning ethical?
McCarthy: Huh? Sure, why not? Or rather, it's no more or less ethical than filling up the world with random children conceived in the irresponsibility of nature. In some sense, we're polluting the world with human beings, and sooner or later we've got to get that under control. But if it's unethical or arrogant to skew the genetics of your offspring, we had better start
arranging marriages by lottery. The quest for the best possible children is a deeply personal thing for most people.
In your "Lab Notes" column "Claiming Space," you wrote that for many years, "space has been mind-numbingly dull." What could happen to change this for you?
McCarthy: Send me there.
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