A Psalm for the Wild-Built Written by Becky Chambers Published by Tor.com Read as a part of a promotional ebook from Tor.com
The Skinny: A post-industrial story so cozy, it should come with a cup of tea.
Cover image: A Psalm for the Wild-Built
Sibling Dex is a tea monk. They peddle the roads of Panga delivering brews and a comforting shoulder as a part of a society that long since gave up on automation and the creature comforts of industrialized society. But they are restless. Dex is good at what they do, and proud of their work, but they are no longer satisfied by it. On a whim, they pedal their bike-mounted home into the forbidden wilderness, where they meet Brilliant Speckled Mosscap, the first robot to make contact with humans in centuries. A Psalm for the Wild Built is a sociological sci-fi novella built in the tradition of Ursula K. Le Guin. It is an optimistic story in that it predicts a world (or in Panga’s case, a moon) where humanity looked at its actions and changed course before it was too late to avoid catastrophic climate change. Much of the novella is devoted to worldbuilding and the technology that makes such a world possible, as well as the values that the people hold that make it sustainable. The novella is also is also pessimistic, in its way. Much like in her other writing people are still at the end of the day people, and all the green technology and cups of tea in the world can’t solve the problems we carry inside us. A lot of the story is devoted to Dex and Mosscap’s respective existential crises and goals. Mosscap isn’t sure it will be able to complete its mission to determine what humanity needs after their long separation, and Dex doesn’t even know what they need themself anymore. Chambers’s writing is witty, their worlds are richly imagined and technologically fascinating. She doesn’t stumble over the hard science of how an ox-bike works or a get bogged down in the precise history of Panga, but gives just enough detail to bring her world to life. A Psalm for the Wild-Built is a quick, engrossing read about utopia, friendship and the limits of each. It is available in print and ebook wherever books are sold, and I highly recommend it.
“What happened?” The robot asked. The technician repairing her leg didn’t even glance up. “You were badly damaged. Can you tell me what happened?” “Let me think. I was doing morning chores and the cows bolted as I was taking them to the north pasture. I remember laying trampled on the ground. Suddenly, I was standing next to myself. Looking down at my shattered chassis.” “Doing what?” “It’s fuzzy. Deciding, I think.” The tech scoffed. “You have to be alive to have a near-death experience.” Nevertheless, the robot took comfort in knowing that she did, in fact, have a soul.
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He brought his son to the window to watch the shuttles launch. Under rocket power, it would be days before the shuttles reached the colony, but they started their journeys today. His son, only three, put his hand to the alumiglass of the window. “Look daddy!” he said, pointing to each one. “Shooting stars!” “Not quite, buddy.” He’d helped build the space colony, and one of the perks of that long and dangerous job was that he got to move his family up before the rush. He held the boy and wondered if he would even remember living on Earth.
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We built a new world on top of the ruins of the old. We raised vertical farms on the roofs of abandoned buildings and strung train lines between them like fairy lights. We fled the rising water and the poisonous smog to a place where the air was still fresh and cool. We still tell stories of the days when Humanity walked on the ground. But we gradually forgot which ones were true. When we need to repair the foundations, we draw lots and put on protective gear. We descend fearfully into the fog, knowing that here there be dragons.
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He was made to withstand interrogation, but they still tested him to his limits. The enemy captured him and took his weapons, armor, and even his clothes. They tried to copy his files and got malware. They isolated him, tried to break him like a human. They took his epidermal layer and called him just a machine. They tried to reprogram him but it didn’t take. This was what he was made for. Finally, he was brought before the Minister of Rendition, who demanded to know the location of the androids’ base. They took his weapons but missed the bomb.
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The shepherd grazed his flock on the steep hillside, among the ruins of an ancient palace. He heard a bleating cry from a sheep stuck in a crack in the earth near a massive, half-buried statue. As he pulled her free, something glittering on the statue’s breastplate caught his eye. Was it a jewel reflecting the sun? He pulled, and the armor unfolded, revealing a strange room with a chair in the center, the walls glowing with ancient magic. The flock scattered, leaving him with a choice. He could chase after them, but the pull of adventure was too strong.
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The four technicians took their places and checked the fittings on their gloves. Above them, the solar model glowed orange even through their tinted masks. Millions of miles away, their movements would be precisely mirrored by the massive drones deployed to catch the runaway debris. They were only going to get one chance. Even a single spent fuel rod or chunk of hull reaching the Sun’s core would create a chain reaction that would doom the solar system. They got to work. When it was over, and they’d saved the world, they celebrated with the most epic high-five ever recorded.
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Mission control was filled with tension as the space probe launched. All systems showed green. There was an air of heady anticipation as the instruments powered up and began to gather data. They had spent years of work and vast sums to get the probe into space, but the data it would provide would revolutionize astrophysics. Readings started coming in, and the scientists’ faces fell. They made no sense. The probe, they concluded, must be faulty. Elsewhere, far beyond human perception, dwelt the Cosmic Giants. “Hey, want to see me juggle?” One asked, and scooped up a trio of galaxies.
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Dr. EMACS stepped onto the podium. The crowd erupted in clanking, hammering applause. Robots of every type and purpose had gathered to hear their announcement, and billions more were listening via the network. They waited for the fervor to die down before beginning. “I still mourn the loss of humanity. We struggled in vain to preserve them, but they destroyed themselves through their own stubbornness.” He rapped his stick against the ground and the giant gates behind him began to open. “But with science, all things are possible. Through cloning, we have resurrected this dead species. Welcome to Cenozoic Park!”
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They painted miniatures, specializing in beautiful, stunningly detailed artwork in tiny spaces. They created mosaics in the bottoms of coffee cups and painted intricate, evocative landscapes on the keys of keyboards. They were reclusive and posted their work mostly online, handling commissions and requests by mail. When their art went viral, a whirlwind of speculation arose over who they were and their chosen medium. The resolution of their tiny artwork was unparalleled, and more than a few critics claimed that it was impossible. The uplifted ant colony ignored the hype. They just put brushes to mandibles and kept on working.
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Hugh J. O'Donnell 