We are thrilled to present a guest post by novelist James Cambias! James is also an accomplished writer of short fiction, with stories appearing in F&SF, Shimmer and multiple Year's Best collections (of both the Dozois and Horton persuasions). What you may not know, however, is that James got his start writing for the tabletop gaming industry, and that he is also the founder of Zygote Games--a company that seeks to produce "high-quality, fun-to-play games that also educate players about scientific facts and concepts."
In a glowing review, I described his debut, A Darkling Sea, as "challenging in all the ways SF can and should be challenging." One of my favorite aspects of the book was how conflict emerges less from ill-intent (though there is a bit of that too) and more from problems of communication. Today James discusses that theme in greater detail...
In a glowing review, I described his debut, A Darkling Sea, as "challenging in all the ways SF can and should be challenging." One of my favorite aspects of the book was how conflict emerges less from ill-intent (though there is a bit of that too) and more from problems of communication. Today James discusses that theme in greater detail...
My novel A Darkling
Sea is about a lot of things — the value of science and exploration, the
fallacy of trying to distinguish between human activity and what is
"natural," and the way our goals are driven by personal desires as
much as grand ideologies or rational calculation. But one of the main themes is
communication.
The whole plot revolves around attempts to establish
communication with aliens, and the consequences of failure. I ran a lot of
variations on the theme: Henri Kerlerec blunders into his fatal contact with
the lobster-like Ilmatarans in part because he has been forbidden to
communicate with them. Later on, Rob Freeman avoids that fate because he is
willing to try to talk, which convinces the Ilmatarans that he really is an
intelligent being.
Right up front, I want to stipulate that I handwaved away
some tof the difficulties in translating alien languages. Realistically, the
humans would probably have much more trouble talking to the Ilmatarans, and
vice versa. But while stories about figuring out how to communicate are
fascinating, that wasn't the story I wanted to tell in A Darkling Sea.
Even when two species understand each others' languages,
there are still communication problems. I tried to show this with the
interactions between the humans and the Sholen (another spacefaring
civilization, more advanced than the humans in most ways). They can talk to
each other just fine — but what is said,
what is meant, and what is understood are all different things.
(I'm sure that theorists of language and communication have some nifty
technical terms for all that, but I've never studied those subjects.)
So the humans say
they're just peacefully studying Ilmatar. They mean they're asserting their right to do so and refusing to let the
Sholen prevent. And the Sholen understand
them to mean they're not going to recognize any restrains on what they do.
Which, to the Sholen, means the researchers are an imperialist vanguard.
Meanwhile the Sholen say
they want to protect the Ilmatarans from cultural contamination resulting from
alien contact. What they mean is they
want to keep humans (and themselves) from affecting any other worlds in the
Galaxy. And what the humans understand
is the Sholen want to end space exploration forever. Not a recipe for a happy
outcome.
It gets worse when the two sides are communicating by acts
and gestures rather than words. Some of the humans resort to practical jokes
and minor harassment to let the Sholen know how unwelcome they are in the human
research station. The Sholen either don't notice, or take the pranks as genuine
attacks. When the humans try passive resistance, the Sholen see wilful
disobedience. When the Sholen try a show of force, the humans see outright
aggression.
We saw a lot of this in the real world, especially during
the Soviet-American Cold War, when both sides would painstakingly parse every
speech and action by their adversaries, trying to figure out what they
"really" meant. As I write this, China and Japan are doing the same —
and if two cultures which have existed next door to each other for more than
two millennia can still misunderstand one another that badly, imagine how badly
two species which have only been in contact for a couple of decades can screw
things up.
But there is one kind of communication which crosses species
boundaries: science. In my book the search for knowledge and understanding of
the world is something all three species can relate to. When at last, after
much trouble and bloodshed, the humans, Ilmatarans, and Sholen come to some
kind of cease-fire, it's the scientists who bring it about. It's not that I
have any faith that scientists are smarter or more rational than the rest of us
(I know plenty of them and have no illusions on that score). But science, by
its nature, has to deal with the real world. It is grounded in verifiable
facts. And since the facts of the physical universe are the same everywhere, as
far as we know, that makes science the truly universal language.