My first introduction to John Varley wasn’t through any of his literary works, but through him being the guest-of-honour for the 1989 Australian National Science-Fiction and Fantasy Convention. Swancon 14 just happened to be held in my home town of Perth.

It was also my first SF&F convention, and is, by a long margin, my favourite and most memorable one. Some of that is because of the newness factor, but I have some very personal reasons, as well: I first danced with my (now) wife at the Masquerade. However, what has especially stuck with me most over the last thirty-six years is John Varley’s guest-of-honour speech. I think of it often, and unbeknownst to me at the time, it formed a large part of my education as a writer.

Table of Contents

• 1989
• Millennium
• John Varley is Salman Rushdie

1989

During Easter 1989, the world was going through a period of transition. The Reagan era had just ended, replaced by George HW Bush. Every Australian still suffered a blinding hangover from celebrating the bicentennial. Emperor Hirohito had died. Exxon Valdez had just grounded¹. The run-up to Easter wasn’t especially significant – no major wars, no major events. It just felt like more of the same as 88.

Of course, there were a bunch of events that would happen later in the year that still shape the sociopolitical landscape: Tiananmen Square massacre; fall of the Berlin Wall; invasion of Panama. But that was yet to emerge.
Movie poster: Millennium
However, for John Varley, it must have been a personally momentous time. The movie version of his novel, Millennium, was just about to be released. He’d been working on it (in various forms) since 1977. And yet, he agreed to travel half-way around the world to speak with a bunch of people, who – like me – had never heard of him before. Most of them still hadn’t read any of his work, by the time he arrived. To be honest, I can’t remember if I had read Millennium before the con. My heart says yes, but I can’t truly remember. I did read it though, and enjoyed it. The movie, not so much.

Millennium

In any case, much of John Varley’s GOH speech was spent providing information about the forthcoming movie. He had lots of photos – mostly of the wreckage of the plane crash – and some wonderful anecdotes. Like how the plane wreckage looked so real that pilots flying overhead reported it as a downed airliner.

However, as he neared the end of his speech, he pivoted to a topic that was evidently very close to his heart (and now mine too). On the 14^th February 1989, another event occurred that still shapes our world. It was on that date that the leader of Iran, Ayatollah Khomeini, issued a fatwa calling for the murder of Salman Rushdie. The charge was the alleged blasphemy against Islam by Rushdie in his novel Satanic Versus.

John Varley did not hold back in his excoriation against the fatwa, and the person that issued it. He also did not hold back on the criticism of censorship in general. To a writer (and others of like mind), the words are sometimes the only power we have left. To deny us them, with concocted and fabricated reasons – at that, is to deny us life itself.

And yet, in 2025, our position has not improved – in fact it has gotten worse. Not only is the fatwa still in place (Rushdie lost an eye due to an attack by an Islamic terrorist in 2022), but even in the so-called bastion of free speech, the SCOTUS has found the banning of ‘certain’ books to be lawful. And in my own country, children under the age of 16 are banned from accessing most social media. A clear violation of their freedoms of speech and association.

John Varley is Salman Rushdie

At the very end of his speech, John Varley issued a challenge to those of us in attendance, to oppose censorship in all its wicked forms. He finished with these final words, that still resounds with me to this day: I AM SALMAN RUSHDIE. A clear cry that he stood alongside his fellow writer to oppose the tyranny of the wilfully ignorant.

The world is much worse for John Varley’s passing.

I am Salam Rushdie.

1. the Exxon Valdex grounding had happened only a day or so before, and so it wasn’t known how bad it would become. ↩︎

* image CC BY-SA 4.0

Yes, I know I’m late with this, but tracking down all the novels – and reading them – took time. And, yes, I know there were six nominees, but one of them I don’t feel qualified to judge (see below). So, now I have read all of them (including the sixth one), here are my thoughts on the 2025 Hugo Award Nominees for Best Novel.

Table of Contents

• Service Model by Adrian Tchaikovsky
• The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley
• Someone You Can Build a Nest In by John Wiswell
• Alien Clay by Adrian Tchaikovsky
• A Sorceress Comes To Call by T. Kingfisher
• The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett
• Conclusion

I’m going to discuss each of the novels in the reverse order of their voting tallies (excluding no award). The voting statistics (including the votes for the 2025 Hugo Award for Best Novel) are available to download here. I’ll provide a brief summary and my thoughts about each of them.

So spoilers, duh!

WARNING
Spoilers ahead
Service Model

Service Model by Adrian Tchaikovsky

Summary

When a valet robot discovers that he has murdered his master in a shaving incident, he suffers an existential crisis that subsequently sends him on a journey of self-discovery.

Thoughts

I’m not surprised this novel scored the lowest number of votes. It was my least favourite. I ended giving up after a hundred pages or so.

It read like a comedy, written by someone that thinks they’re as hilarious as Monty Python, but who keeps repeating the same gag over and over again ad nauseam. It’s not funny, just weird – but not in a good way – and I found it painful to read.

I’m actually surprised it was published (let alone nominated for a Hugo Award). I suspect had it come from an unknown writer, it would never have advanced beyond the slush heap.
The Ministry of Time

The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley

Summary

A government employee applies for a new job and soon finds herself being the personal carer to an arctic explorer that has been kidnapped from the past.

Thoughts

I liked the concept (Connie Willis managed to concoct four Hugo Award-winning novels – including my favourite novel of all time – with something similar), and the first act is strong. From there though, it meanders around spending far too much time on dinner parties and trips to the pub until it gets to the midpoint, which is exciting, but the second half of the novel really goes off the rails.

It’s supposed to be a romantic comedy. However, the romance is tepid – it’s there, but there’s minimal spark between the participants – and the comedy is completely absent – apart from a couple of character moments.

I feel that if Bradley had crafted a truly engaging couple, something like the lovers in Notting Hill, and focused on the tiny moments between them – especially given their disparate backgrounds – she would have been far more successful. Instead, she tried to shoe horn in a time travel murder mystery, involving moles, agents from the future, and the tropiest of time travel tropes. It all ends up very meh, which I found disappointing.
Someone You Can Build a Nest In

Someone You Can Build a Nest In by John Wiswell

Summary

When a shapeshifting monster falls in love, little does she know that her love interest has been sent to kill her.

Thoughts

I really wanted to love this. The idea is great, and it opens well – the descriptions of the monster are delightful. However, it bogs down into a feeling of sameness. Very little had happened by the time I gave up reading it. The plot needed to be much tighter, but it wanders through nothingness for a good portion of the first, and second acts.
Alien Clay

Alien Clay by Adrian Tchaikovsky

Summary

When a biology researcher is exiled to an exoplanet for political crimes, he discovers the government has discovered the remnants of an alien civilisation. Amid rampant thuggery, a hostile environment, and a looming insurrection, he delves to uncover the secrets of the aliens.

Thoughts

This was the most traditional science-fiction concept of all the nominees. Big ideas, and an intriguing mystery. It has all the hallmarks of a classic. And it almost achieves that lofty status. Almost.

My problem with this novel lies with the political element. It’s so fundamental to the story, but the key differences in the schism between the government position and the politics of the protagonist (and his fellow exiles) was never fully explained to my liking. It left me feeling very meh, about the whole deal.

Also, the political manoeuvring rang as untrue – manufactured to drive the plot instead of representing a real possibility. Unfortunately, the climax relies on this so much it undermined what should have been brilliant. It still kind of works, but it misses the truly dramatic punch if the politics had been handled much better.
Sorceress Comes to Call

A Sorceress Comes To Call by T. Kingfisher

This is the one that I’m not going to comment on, beyond saying that I read some of it and I didn’t understand it. I’m not a horror fan – not even vaguely. I don’t feel I can judge it fairly.

My wife liked the novel, but she thought it wasn’t Kingfisher’s best work.
The Tainted Cup

The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett

Summary

When a young investigator, and his boss, are called into investigate the death of an engineer, they uncover a conspiracy that threatens not just their region, but the entire Empire.

Thoughts

This was such a treat to read. I consumed it passionately. My wife did the same. While it’s essentially a classic whodunit, the world Bennett has created is so rich and intriguing. It’s not just fantasy, but something truly unique. A worthy winner of the 2025 Hugo Award for Best Novel.

I thought the sequel, A Drop of Corruption, was even better.

Conclusion

Overall, I don’t feel this was a particular strong year. I’m still struggling to understand how Service Model made the list. Surely, the nominators can’t be so myopic as to include only named authors at the exclusion of the unknowns. The only thing that should matter is the quality of the writing, and the Hugo nominees should represent the very best (admittedly, I haven’t exactly been enthused by past winners either).

Yeah, I’m an idealist.

Here is the second group of #SundayLit stories (the first story is available here). For those unfamiliar with the concept, they are stories written based on a specific prompt which is posted each Sunday on Mastodon. While everyone gets to chose how they respond, all four of my stories take the form of a dialogue, which I found really fun to do. They were previously posted on my @skribe@aus.social account each Sunday from 26th October, 2025 until 16th November, 2025.

Enjoy

Table of Contents

• SundayLit Prompt: The Mentor
• SundayLit Prompt: Geography
• SundayLit Prompt: Physical appearance
• SundayLit Prompt: Unexpected

SundayLit Prompt: The Mentor

“The shock collar. It’s just for show.”

“Ow!”

“Mostly.”

“It hurts!”

“What have you learnt?”

“That you’re a bast- owwwwwwwww!”

“Try again.”

“That’s you’re a vindictive bastard!”

“And?”

“Owwwww.”

“AND?”

“Trust nobody.”

“Very good. In the next lesson, we’ll harness the plug of doom.”

“Ow!”

“Hahaha. I love that.”

SundayLit Prompt: Geography

“What if we call it, something like, Earth-writing, but in Greek. Isn’t that how it’s done?”

“Do you mean geography, sir?”

“See! That’s it. Geo…gee…it’s a nice big word.”

“Geography already means something, sir.”

“Well, change it. I have full immunity. I can do what I like.”

“It would confuse the children.”

“Let me tell you about child- er. No, I’m not allowed to talk about that.”

“Maybe if the monument was bigger, sir.”

“Our country is by far the largest in the world. It’s so big. So very, very big.”

“But it’s not earth-sized. So it can’t be geography.”

“It could be. We have the largest army. We could invade-”

“Lithography?”

“That’s a big word. I like big words. Lith…lisso…lezzo-”

“Lithography. Stone writing.”

“I like that. My name written in stone across the-”

“The problem is that most of the country isn’t made of stone, sir. We’d need to import it from Canada or Mexico.”

“No, no. I definitely don’t want to have to deal-”

“What if we wait until winter, sir. Then, you write your name in the snow. All the way from the North West to Maine.”

“What would we call that?”

“We could make something up. For instance, niphography?.”

“That’s another big word. Is it Greek? Niffo…nympho-”

“It’d take a lot of piss, sir.”

“Oh, I’m full of piss. I have more piss than anyone. I could just piss for hours if I needed to-”

“But that would just include the North, sir. What we need is something the covers the entire country. From the Pacific, to the Atlantic. From Mexico, to Canada.”

“Oh, I love the cover the entire country. I have the biggest coverage ever. Much more than Canada. Nobody has more cover-”

“I’ve got it, sir! Rhypography¹! It’s Greek and it fits perfectly.”

“What do I have to do?”

“Keep doing what you’re doing, sir.”

SundayLit Prompt: Physical appearance

“He was massive, in exactly the same way that a mountain is tall…except without the snow on top. He had no hair at all. His shoulders…they were massive also. You could land a 747 on each of them without using reverse thrust. That is, if you could find a respectable airline that still used the Queen of the Skies. If his shoulders were hips – and he was a woman – they would be called child-bearing hips. He’d have been able to fit six on each of them, and-”

“Sir, this is a police station, not a writing workshop. Now, please just describe the man you ran over.”

SundayLit Prompt: Unexpected

“Ahaaaaaah! I bet that was unexpected.”

“Well, I did call a plumber.”

“And?”

“You’re in my kitchen, at three o’clock in the morning.”

“Aaaaand?”

“You’re completely naked.”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaad?”

“You’ve fixed my tap?”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnd?”

“The bill is much less than I expected.”

“Ta-dah!”

“Please don’t wave that around. You’ll poke an eye out.”

1. From Ancient Greek, rhŭ́pos ‘filth’, and gráphō ‘to write’. ↩︎

skribeworks

2025-10-21 03:37:06

SundayLit: Story 1

This is the first of the #SundayLit stories, previously posted on my @skribe Mastodon account, using the prompts: openings, happiness, colour, and dreams. I’ve made a few minor corrections and clarifications, and posted it as a whole for the first time. It was written and posted from 28th September until 20th October 2025.

If you like this story, you might also like The Pact, which has a similar feel to it.

---

It was just like any other door, except this one was mine. Chosen fairly and squarely by lottery.

As I stood waiting, I looked across to the others. Those that had missed out. I could sense their envy. And those that hadn’t. Some terrified. Others as eager as I was.

The chime sounded, bright and clear. It was time to open our doors. We could have whatever lay in the rooms beyond.

Presuming we survived.

I triggered the latch, and carefully pushed against the gnarled, wooden surface. The ancient hinges creaked ominously as the door slowly opened.

I beamed as I gazed about the massive hall beyond. My smile must have been as bright as the room’s gleaming contents, so dazzling I wished I still wore sunglasses.

A mound of golden artefacts, reached almost up to the chamber’s arched ceiling

A mound of golden artefacts, reached almost up to the chamber’s arched ceiling. Littered amongst them were jewels of every possible shape and colour.

All my troubles were over. All the trials had been worth it. I could finally live again.

Then, a flicker of motion caught the corner of my eye. Something raced towards me.

It shimmered, it’s form a wavering mass of colour as though it was enclosed within a soap bubble. Within, was a clockwork contraption, looking far too much like a ten-legged spider.

I did not like the look of it, especially the thick legs, they resembled the slightly curved blades from a pair of craft scissors. They made a high-pitched chinking sound as the thing scrambled across the mound of gold coins towards me.

I am deathly afraid of spiders. Not merely scared, but truly terrified, and have been since I was a small child. Even a photograph of a spider can be enough to trigger a panic attack.

Needless to say, I found myself both mesmerised and unable to move. I watched helplessly, my doom bearing down upon me.

The arachnid raced towards me

The arachnid raced towards me like a hungry mouse about to descend upon a wedge of cheese. It’s gossamer envelope shimmied with each movement. Within it, I could perceive the mechanism in its entirety. Every opening and closing actuator. Every snapping effector. Each whirring servomotor. It was a piece of exquisite workmanship: a dream made manifest. Or a nightmare.

And yet, I felt happy. Perhaps I was some sort of mesmeric trance the creature emitted. Or, mayhap, it was the realisation that I would die a rich man. Just as long as I did not leave the room. My family would even be paid from the consolidation fund. Not the full amount, but a decent percentage of the haul.

Then, the beast was upon me. I fought, but it did no good. In a battle between flesh and metal, metal nearly always wins. And so it proved this time.

As I was consumed by the swirling rainbow, I glimpse two crystalline fangs, and then felt a sharp sting along the right side of my exposed throat.

I fell. Numbed. Cold throbbed through me. My last act of will was to close my eyes.

I heard my breathing slowing, and my heart rate decreasing. Then I knew nothing more.

I did not dream.

#SundayLit

The Pact » skribeworks

Of course I was distrustful. Even moreso once I actually saw the place.

^{skribe (skribeworks)}

I first read Harry Harrison’s, To the Stars trilogy, during my teens. I remember gobbling down Homeworld, and then being forced to wait months until I eventually found a copy of Wheelworld at one of the handful of bookstores that stocked science-fiction. Science-fiction and fantasy were the red-haired stepchildren of literature in the 80s (and before). Obtaining Starworld took more months and a bunch of luck. Ultimately, I remember enjoying the series, and felt they were definitely worth the wait.

However, I have since read them a number of times in the forty or so years since, and I find my enjoyment of the To The Stars trilogy wavering. A number of issues with the structure, the characters, and the style keep cropping up. I’ll explain as we go along.

By the way, while this isn’t a review exactly, it will dive into the specifics (plot, characters, etc) so, spoilers.

WARNING
Spoilers ahead

Table of Contents

• To the Stars
• Homeworld
• Politics
• Wheelworld
• Starworld
• Conclusion

To the Stars

To The Stars is set five-hundred years into the future. Humanity has burst forth from its nest to populate the cosmos. Except, it’s not a utopian future as dreamt by Star Trek, Harrison’s take is far more cynical. Most of the colonised worlds are run by corporate or government overlords overseeing a mass of serf-like populace to produce the necessary resources for Earth. Things are not much better on Earth, where a small number of elites live in luxury while the masses of Proles attempt to scrape through an existence under an authoritarian surveillance state.

Homeworld

He is rescued by a submarine

Enter Jan Kulozik, a young electronics engineer, who has been raised as one of the British elites. He believes the Proles are lazy and stupid, however events conspire to teach him otherwise. While out sailing on the Red Sea (as you do) his yacht is sunk, but before he can drown he is rescued by a submarine.

Once aboard the sub, he meets Sara, who provides him with information that causes him to question what he has been told about the world and his place in it. He subsequently becomes involved in the resistance against his own government (teaming up with Sara as they go up against Jan’s own brother-in-law), and learns that the Proles aren’t bad fellas after all, but he is ultimately caught. Such are the events of Homeworld, the first book in the series.

One of the key things is that the submarine is Israeli. Yes folks, somewhat ironically (at least, according to some), the Israelis are the good guys in this series. Israel is a pariah state, built on democratic principles rather than authoritarianism, like the rest of the world.

Politics

It’s actually this that I find troubling. Not Israel specifically, but the lack of creativity when it comes to the world governments. There’s also US, Britain, Australia, and the Soviets. All straight out of 70s-80s politics, as if nothing had changed in five hundred years – which is frankly preposterous.

Five hundred years ago, the Europeans hadn’t reached the Americas or Australia. Britain consisted of the divided kingdoms of England and Scotland. Palestine was controlled by the Mamluk Sultanate. Russia wasn’t even a kingdom, let alone an empire. Very different, and so it would be logical to presume that five-hundred years from now the world would be a very different place politically, too.

All Harrison did was basically extrapolate what was happening in the late 70s and early 80s

Except in To The Stars, it isn’t. All Harrison did was basically extrapolate what was happening in the late 70s and early 80s. Which is lazy and very disappointing.

Just a note about the Soviets, I read Homeworld soon after the break-up of the Soviet Union, and I couldn’t read it. I thought it was nonsense (I may have even thrown the book across the room). My world view had changed drastically from that at the height of the Cold War. The idea that a totalitarian government could exist even in the future was absurd. I had clearly become too optimistic and naive.

Wheelworld

To the Stars – Wheelworld
The next time we encounter Jan Kulozik he is trapped on the agricultural planet of Halvmörk, which is tilted on its axis at a forty-one-degree angle and with a perverse orbit. That means that only the areas near the poles are habitable (for four years at a time) and then the inhabitants need to make the several tens of thousands kilometre trip to the other pole.

When the ships, that take their grain, are late by six weeks, Jan convinces the oligarchic families, that control Halvmörk, to leave rather than to wait for the ships. They will take some of the grain with them, then return to collect more – despite the dangers of operating during the ‘day’.

There’s politics aplenty and personal drama, but the bulk of the first half of the novel us taken up with the journey from the North to the South Pole. It’s enjoyable stuff, with loads of obstacles that need to be overcome, while also dealing with the stupidity of the masses (often ending in tragedy). It’s the sort of fun I’ve come to expect from Harrison.

Things start to fall off the rails

Even once they reach the South Pole, the betrayal by the families and banning of the return journey is well done. However, once Jan leads a group of rebels to steal the vehicles and return Northward to collect the valuable grain, things start to fall off the rails.

What could have filled at least as much as the previous section of the novel is condensed into a few chapters in a very hand-wavy way. Look, I’m a big proponent of less is more, but in this case I felt short-changed. I think there was more to learn about Jan and his comrades (particularly his new wife – who is an object of desire in the first half of the novel, but is essentially forgotten in the second half), and especially about the world of Halvmörk, and its ecosystem. We get hints of things, but they are never paid-off. Given how well Harrison did with the ecologies in the Deathworld and Eden series, it is certainly a disappointment.

Jan is charged with treason and sentenced to death

Wheelworld ends with the return bearing the grain. Yet instead of glorious tribute, Jan is charged with treason and sentenced to death. However, at the very last moment, he is saved by the arrival of the ships. But not those of their overlords, but of rebels that have thrown off the yoke of their oppressors.

However, they are in desperate need of food for the colony worlds. Jan does a deal with the fleet commander. In return for the food, he will be taken with them to act as an envoy for Halvmörk, to ensure its populace gets the benefits from their labours.

Starworld

To the Stars – Starworld
So begins Starworld. However, from the outset it feels like Harrison had a change of heart with the direction he wanted to take resolving the series. The first thing he does is have the ships attacked while still in orbit around Halvmörk and Jan captured.

This still might have worked, but ultimately it ends up being a very ham-fisted way of Harrison showing off his Earth-of-Tomorrow. Ursula Le Guin did something similar in The Left Hand of Darkness, but Gethen is far more original and interesting. Harrison’s Earth is really Earth-of-Yesterday – filled with cliché and racism. The latter is supposed to indicate how bad the Earthers are, but it feels very lazy.

Jan ends up back on Earth where he manages to escape (the lone survivor – clumsily done and reeking of protagonist armour) where he gets a quick tour of the United States, which is just like the US in the 80s but with the stereotypes and racism turned up to eleven.

Then he gets captured again, and we discover that Jan’s brother-in-law is now the biggest wig of all security wigs, but instead of taunting Jan – like he did in Homeworld – he sends him on a secret mission to Israel. The plan is to help the rebels both in space and on Earth.

He helps them perfect a Gauss cannon

Look, let’s just cut to the chase, the good guys win, but it’s so poorly written it’s hard to read. The only real interesting part of Starworld is the bit where Jan ends up with the rebel space fleet, and he helps them perfect a Gauss cannon, that is used to wipe out the Earth fleet.

What is particularly hard to read is that while in Israel, Jan meets Sara’s sister, and of course they fuck (because fucking the little sister of your dead crush is what’s done in every resistance movement). It’s just so on the nose, even if you ignore the morality of cheating on his wife. Not that the marriage was going to last anyway once Jan managed to return to his luxurious lifestyle on Earth.

Conclusion

There’s definitely the potential for a great epic series submerged in To The Stars. Homeworld is splendid, and shows Harrison at his best. The first half of Wheelworld is also excellent, but from there-in the rest feels rushed. And perhaps the last two novels were rushed. Both Wheelworld and Starworld were released in the same year.

Overall, I now find the To The Stars series very disappointing.

Perhaps this is a review after all.

Recently, my wife and I watched the wonderful Star Trek: Legacy, a mash-up of Star Trek: The Motion Picture with the soundtrack from Tron:Legacy. Afterwards, my wife suggested that it might be worthwhile to create a mashup using the Tron: Legacy soundtrack (it is one of the best soundtracks ever created) with 2001: a space odyssey. So, I did.

It mostly tells the same story as 2001: a space odyssey, but condensed down to twenty-six minutes (compared to two-and-a-half hours of the original). Plus, it has that outstanding soundtrack. Also sprach Zarathustra and Blue Danube are great, but I prefer Daft Punk.

So here it is (if it isn’t then Peertube embeds are broken – or you need to activate javascript) :

spectra.video/videos/embed/eTs…

Table of Contents

• The Process
• 2001: a space odyssey
• Fun

The Process

I didn’t make this movie as I normally would. Ignoring using existing footage and music (as opposed to crafting my own), this project was very much bootstrapped.

Firstly, all I had was my old Linux Machine – which proved to be more than capable for the job. I used kdenlive to do all the post work, and it was about as good as I remember Premiere Pro being back when I last used it. In other words, it was ideal for this kind of work, despite my unfamiliarity with the software.

I'm incredibly rusty when it comes to video editing

Secondly, I’m incredibly rusty when it comes to video editing. It’s been more than ten years since I did anything truly serious (and it’s closer to fifteen years since I made anything this long). While editing is a bit like riding a bike (you never really forget the basics), it’s the nuances in the film language that can get missed – especially when using new software.

For instance, initially I had trouble zooming into the frame level on the timeline. The interface allowed me to get to 3-4 frames, but nothing narrower. As a result, some of my cuts were off. That might not be something that most people would notice, but when I’m in editing mode I can see right down to the frame level (I can see a single black frame, or something out of alignment by just one frame). Sometimes I don’t even immediately notice it at a conscious level, but it bugs me. When cutting to music, you cut to the beat (usually the main one, but not always), and so I found that difficult. Until I worked out how to zoom all the way in.
Space Liner from 2001
In any case, my rustiness and unfamiliarity with the software are the main reasons why it took me three weeks, working part-time on it, to complete the video. All up, probably sixty hours. In the past, something like this would have taken less than half that. For instance, my Blade Runner Inception Trailer only took a few hours, and that was with an overheating machine that kept crashing. I think I lost the work twice because of the issues I was having.

Lastly, I didn’t have the storage space to transcode, so I used the original format. Which worked out mostly fine, but it made cutting to the music more difficult.

2001: a space odyssey

WARNING
Spoilers ahead

2001: a space odyssey is such an oddly structured film. It begins in black for several minutes with just Also sprach Zarathustra playing. Then it spends the next twenty or so minutes showing the story of the apes, and only at the end of which we see the star of the movie: the Black Monolith.

We next have a section where Heywood Floyd travels to the Moon and accidentally activates the Monolith, which is followed by the main story of Dave Bowman and Frank Poole dealing with the HAL9000’s insecurities. Then, right as HAL realises Bowman and Poole plan to disconnect him we get an intermission. I don’t know how long this was during the cinema showings, but on the home video it’s about two minutes long.

Then, we continue, with Poole bing murdered, and Bowman eventually disconnecting HAL Bookending the movie, is another twenty-minute section that reeks of 60s surrealism, but which mostly works in this case. Alien monoliths aren’t meant to be understood, only idolised.

Will someone tell me what the hell this is about?

Essentially, this makes 2001: a space odyssey a five-act movie (most movies a told in three acts). However, a very unbalanced five acts. The midpoint occurs – not at the middle- but at the end of the third act. Apart from the long, ponderous takes and Kubrick’s insistence on foregrounding the banality of space travel (both to the Moon and ultimately all the way out to Jupiter, as well), I feel it’s this unfamiliar structure that makes this film feel odd to many. 250 people walked out of the New York premiere and at the LA showing Rock Hudson reportedly left muttering, “What is this bullshit? Will someone tell me what the hell this is about?”
2001: The apes
However, I couldn’t use the same structure for my version. I certainly couldn’t begin with the apes (although I managed to sneak them in briefly at the end). I needed to start with Floyd Heywood. He’s really the linchpin between the Moon story and Dave Bowman’s journey.

In case you’re wondering, Floyd also delivers the recorded briefing when HAL is shut down. I missed it the first eight times I watched the movie, and only realised it when I did this edit (I think my brain was already asleep by the time we reached that point).

I’ve watched several interviews with Keir Dullea and Gary Lockwood. At the time of the 2001: a space odyssey’s release, they were criticised for not emoting enough. Yet, I found their performances an absolute dream to work with. The moment when Bowman realises he has to abandon Poole’s body in order to save himself, is played so perfectly. It’s wonderful to be able to work with top performers again, even if it is unofficially.

Something I did find difficult, was some of the key moments in 2001: a space odyssey were covered strangely. The most egregious is where Poole is murdered. We never actually see what Hal makes the pod do. We just see it looming towards the camera, and then there’s a shot of Bowman noticing Poole’s body floating away on the monitor.

This wouldn’t have been so bad, but the shots of the pod approaching Poole feature jump cuts, which didn’t really match the beats to the soundtrack, I was using. I battled for quite a while with that, but could never make it fit as well as I would like. There’s also the shots of Africa at the beginning, which were either too long and ponderous or not enough.

We editors are such a fickle bunch. We’re never entirely happy.

I don't hate it, but I also don't love it.

I have to admit, 2001: a space odyssey is not one of my own favourite films. I don’t hate it, but I also don’t love it. I feel that Kubick made some odd and unnecessary choices, while still managing to create some absolutely stunning imagery and elicit brilliant performances. It’s the latter two reasons why 2001: a space odyssey works so well with the Tron: Legacy soundtrack.

Fun

All up, I really enjoyed this process. I had fun, and I feel the end result is some of my best work. I’m very proud of it. I might do some more in the future, but I really need to score some more storage space so I can transcode properly.

Until then,

Enjoy!

This is the first of the #SundayLit stories, previously posted on my @skribe Mastodon account, using the prompts: openings, happiness, colour, and dreams. I’ve made a few minor corrections and clarifications, and posted it as a whole for the first time. It was written and posted from 28th September until 20th October 2025.

If you like this story, you might also like The Pact, which has a similar feel to it.

It was just like any other door, except this one was mine. Chosen fairly and squarely by lottery.

As I stood waiting, I looked across to the others. Those that had missed out. I could sense their envy. And those that hadn’t. Some terrified. Others as eager as I was.

The chime sounded, bright and clear. It was time to open our doors. We could have whatever lay in the rooms beyond.

Presuming we survived.

I triggered the latch, and carefully pushed against the gnarled, wooden surface. The ancient hinges creaked ominously as the door slowly opened.

I beamed as I gazed about the massive hall beyond. My smile must have been as bright as the room’s gleaming contents, so dazzling I wished I still wore sunglasses.

A mound of golden artefacts, reached almost up to the chamber’s arched ceiling

A mound of golden artefacts, reached almost up to the chamber’s arched ceiling. Littered amongst them were jewels of every possible shape and colour.

All my troubles were over. All the trials had been worth it. I could finally live again.

Then, a flicker of motion caught the corner of my eye. Something raced towards me.

It shimmered, it’s form a wavering mass of colour as though it was enclosed within a soap bubble. Within, was a clockwork contraption, looking far too much like a ten-legged spider.

I did not like the look of it, especially the thick legs, they resembled the slightly curved blades from a pair of craft scissors. They made a high-pitched chinking sound as the thing scrambled across the mound of gold coins towards me.

I am deathly afraid of spiders. Not merely scared, but truly terrified, and have been since I was a small child. Even a photograph of a spider can be enough to trigger a panic attack.

Needless to say, I found myself both mesmerised and unable to move. I watched helplessly, my doom bearing down upon me.

The arachnid raced towards me

The arachnid raced towards me like a hungry mouse about to descend upon a wedge of cheese. It’s gossamer envelope shimmied with each movement. Within it, I could perceive the mechanism in its entirety. Every opening and closing actuator. Every snapping effector. Each whirring servomotor. It was a piece of exquisite workmanship: a dream made manifest. Or a nightmare.

And yet, I felt happy. Perhaps I was some sort of mesmeric trance the creature emitted. Or, mayhap, it was the realisation that I would die a rich man. Just as long as I did not leave the room. My family would even be paid from the consolidation fund. Not the full amount, but a decent percentage of the haul.

Then, the beast was upon me. I fought, but it did no good. In a battle between flesh and metal, metal nearly always wins. And so it proved this time.

As I was consumed by the swirling rainbow, I glimpse two crystalline fangs, and then felt a sharp sting along the right side of my exposed throat.

I fell. Numbed. Cold throbbed through me. My last act of will was to close my eyes.

I heard my breathing slowing, and my heart rate decreasing. Then I knew nothing more.

I did not dream.

#SundayLit

skribe 🇺🇦

2025-09-28 10:05:20

#SundayLit Openings

It was just like any other door, except this one was mine. Chosen fairly and squarely by lottery.

As I stood waiting, I looked across to the others. Those that had missed out. I could sense their envy. And those that hadn't. Some terrified. Others as eager as I was.

The chime sounded, bright and clear. It was time to open our doors. We could have whatever lay in the rooms beyond.

Presuming we survived.

#MicroFic #TootFic #Writing