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Your rights end where their feelings begin at Oxford!

I saw this interesting article on the Spectator about a disturbing trend among university students in the UK.

I was attacked by a swarm of Stepford students this week. On Tuesday, I was supposed to take part in a debate about abortion at Christ Church, Oxford. I was invited by the Oxford Students for Life to put the pro-choice argument against the journalist Timothy Stanley, who is pro-life. But apparently it is forbidden for men to talk about abortion. A mob of furious feministic Oxford students, all robotically uttering the same stuff about feeling offended, set up a Facebook page littered with expletives and demands for the debate to be called off. They said it was outrageous that two human beings ‘who do not have uteruses’ should get to hold forth on abortion — identity politics at its most basely biological — and claimed the debate would threaten the ‘mental safety’ of Oxford students. Three hundred promised to turn up to the debate with ‘instruments’ — heaven knows what — that would allow them to disrupt proceedings.
Incredibly, Christ Church capitulated, the college’s censors living up to the modern meaning of their name by announcing that they would refuse to host the debate on the basis that it now raised ‘security and welfare issues’. So at one of the highest seats of learning on Earth, the democratic principle of free and open debate, of allowing differing opinions to slog it out in full view of discerning citizens, has been violated, and students have been rebranded as fragile creatures, overgrown children who need to be guarded against any idea that might prick their souls or challenge their prejudices. One of the censorious students actually boasted about her role in shutting down the debate, wearing her intolerance like a badge of honour in an Independent article in which she argued that, ‘The idea that in a free society absolutely everything should be open to debate has a detrimental effect on marginalised groups.’

Read the rest of Free speech is so last century. Today’s students want the ‘right to be comfortable’
This is an insane development, how can a civil society function when it is based on a principle like “Your rights end where my feelings begin”? Does it really make sense to say that debate should be censored just because some people might find it uncomfortable? These students seem to think so and I can’t imagine a worse turn for a free society.
How exactly do people expect this to end? Treating students as children and protecting them from BadThink™. If you protect them from all unapproved ideas all you will do is destroy their ability to reason critically about issues. I think Thomas Sowell put it perfectly when he said

The problem isn’t that Johnny can’t read. The problem isn’t even that Johnny can’t think. The problem is that Johnny doesn’t know what thinking is; he confuses it with feeling.

This is the result. Students unwilling to listen to a debate and the debate being cancelled, and everybody prevented from listening, because the idea of open and free debate, whichever side of an issue you on, is so threatening and has the potential to make these fainting wallflowers so uncomfortable that it needs to be stopped. They don’t even have the decency just to do something else for the evening. The debate must be stopped because, I can only assume, they are terrified that someone might encounter an unapproved idea and think for themselves about it.
All we are doing by tolerating this madness is creating a generation who will be extremely vulnerable to the first demagogue that comes along. With no functioning critical thinking abilities, they will be led by their emotions into madness, blood and fire.

Have you seen The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest

This is pretty awesome, The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest which is a competition for the absolute worst opening line for a book.
The 2014 winner was by Elizabeth Dorfman with the magnificent …

When the dead moose floated into view the famished crew cheered – this had to mean land! – but Captain Walgrove, flinty-eyed and clear headed thanks to the starvation cleanse in progress, gave fateful orders to remain on the original course and await the appearance of a second and confirming moose.

They even have different categories, check out the website. The Sci Fi winner was Suzy Levinson,

The spaceship hovered like a saucer, only rounder, deeper, the product of an unholy union between dessert plate and finger bowl, as any of the villagers familiar with traditional service à la russe dining could plainly see

Hopefully i’m not the last person on the internet to discover this!

Slush pile update

For everybody who is wondering on the progress of stories that have been submitted. I have been making a concerted effort to get through all of the back log this week. I will be emailing in the next few days with answers for everybody.
IF you can help promote the magazine on social media that will aid in getting stories published. I will give some feedback with any story that doesn’t make the cut.

Expanded submission guidelines

I’ve decided to expand the submission guidelines and you can expect the official ones to be updated shortly but I thought i’d mention them here first and see if anybody had any feedback on them.
First up, i’m interested in accepting flash fiction, I’ve received a couple of pieces of it recently and they have been great. So I will accept stories down as short as you would like to go. I got a submission that was a wonderful piece of sci phi and it was 290 words. So please feel free to submit. On the other end of the spectrum, if you have pieces longer than 4000 words that is fine, but please keep in mind that my standing policy is to limit payments to 5000 words, so if you are happy to accept $250 for the submission, longer is fine. Please pitch serials before submitting though.
Second, on genres. I’ve been asked about things other than Science Fiction, the answer is yes, probably. The Phi part of Sci Phi is more important than the Sci part. So if you would like to try it, please do, but it needs the philosophical “big idea” content. I’d suggest you pitch ideas that are outside of the science fiction genre (science fiction understood very broadly, hard, soft, space opera, alt history, time travel, etc) but feel free to submit away.
In terms of payments, the policy I have adopted but I don’t think was made explicit was, 5c a word (up to 5k words) and I plan to pay a bonus equal to the original payment if the issue sells 5000 issues within 90 days of the original publication date. I haven’t sold that number yet, so I wouldn’t count on the bonus payment, but it is an incentive to help publicize it and if an issue sells well, I do think it is good to reward those who help get the issue to that point.
Hope this helps.

New Episode of Sci Phi Show is out

If you are interested in checking out the podcast that lead to the creation of this magazine you can check out the latest episode.
Transcendance, Physicalism and Consciousness – SPS 503.
It comes complete with a transcript if you prefer to read.

We land on a comet and some feminists complain about a shirt?

One of the magazines regular contributors, John C. Wright, has an interesting piece on the reaction of feminists to one of the more impressive feats of space exploration in recent memory.
Scientist Lands a Probe On a Speeding Comet and Feminists Shriek About His Shirt

If I wrote this in a parody SFF story, no editor would buy it. It is too far beyond belief.
Feminists: We need to fight negative stereotypes like women caring more about fashion than science.
Comet? What comet? EEEK! LOOK AT THAT SHIRT!! Some big, strong man, HAAALP! Protect me from seeing that shirt. Eek! Eek!
Dr. Matt Taylor is a freaking hero, okay? We should do like the crowd at the end of the movie V FOR VENDETTA and all of us, each and every man in America, buy the same shirt. And the Guy Fawkes mask.

Read the Rest
What is wrong with some feminists? Is this really what they think is important? In a recent interview with Lena Dunham she commented that part of Feminism was accepting that women had something important and relevant to say before going on to expand on this idea by saying something trivial and banal. I laughed at the time but I didn’t really appreciate that this trait was much more widely spread in some branches of feminism.
Can anybody explain this too me? If this isn’t a prank and these feminists really think this is an important issue that over shadows the achievement of landing on a comet, isn’t it time we concluded that these feminists don’t really have anything important or relevant to say?
We landed on a freakin’ comet! The ESA hit something relatively small, moving quickly, a long way away with a shot that took place 10 years ago. That is amazing!

Friday Excerpt – Beyond the Mist Chapter 1 by Ben Zwycky

I thought I would try something new, so on Fridays from now on I will be published excerpts from Sci Phi. For this inaugural one I thought I would post the first Chapter of our new Serial, Beyond the Mist by Ben Zwycky. If you enjoy this excert, check out the first three Chapters in Issue #2 and more to come!

Beyond the Mist by Ben Zwycky

Chapter 1 – The Mist

Am I falling or flying? I thought to myself as the endless mist rushed past my face, feeling the buffeting ripples up and down my skin but hearing almost nothing. How long has it been – hours? Days? Months? Is this all there is? I asked myself, unable to remember anything. And who am I?
A small plastic packet of water drifted past, travelling slightly faster than I was, and I caught hold of it. A tube of some sort of food followed shortly afterwards.
Where do these come from? I silently asked as I consumed them, then allowed the empty wrappings to float away.
There was a faint light up ahead and I began to deliberately drift towards it.
“Dive away! Dive away! Avoid them at all costs!” cried out a voice behind me, and I leaned away from it. “That is a ledge placed there by our cruel overlords. If you hit one of those, not only will it hurt you more than you can bear, but it will also rob you of your freedom. Seek refuge in the mist.”
“A ledge? But what are they for?” I asked, turning to see who was speaking, but could see no-one, only a disturbance in the mist that indicated something was there.
“The overlords seek to lure us to our doom with promises of ‘truth’ and ‘life’,” explained the voice, spitting out those two words with disgust. “Do not listen to them, they only seek to hurt and enslave you. Here there is life, here there is freedom! Here they cannot touch us.”
“Reach out for your life, find the truth and save yourself,” called a different voice from the light as it came rapidly closer.
“Don’t listen to him! Dive away! Dive away! Don’t let him reach you!” screamed the first voice as the light flashed past. “That was close, despicable creatures.”
“So you know them?”
“I know what they are,” replied the first voice, full of bitterness, “I have heard the stories, they speak of ‘truth’ and ‘light’, ‘right and wrong’, ‘responsibility and self-control’, it is nothing but lies to ensnare and enslave you. The mist is life, the mist is safety, here we fly! Here there is no failure or shame, duties or consequences, here we are kings!”
“How can there be lies if there is no truth?” called the second voice from a distance. I looked back to see a light approaching.
“It is one of them!” screamed the first voice, “Cover your ears, dive away! Dive away! You will not enslave us!”
The second voice spoke with an authoritative calm as it gained on them. “To lie is to knowingly deny the truth. How can there be lies without a truth to be denied?”
“Stay away from us!” shouted the first voice.
The light was getting much closer now and the second voice no longer needed to be raised. “Do you not have eyes that were made to see? A mind that was made to think? Legs to stand on solid ground? A soul to make a difference? The mist is not life, the mist is a prison.”
“A prison? Ha!” scoffed the first voice. “What do you know of freedom?”
The second voice seemed to grow in weight and vitality as it replied, “I know the freedom to stand and gaze at the beauty of creation, the freedom to love, the freedom to distinguish between right and wrong, the freedom to enjoy the fruits of my labour, know the satisfaction of a job well done and take the consequences of my actions, to find my context and live life to the full.”
“Here there is life, and to more than the full!” said the first voice. “The freedom to create whatever reality you desire!”
“Any such creations are purely in your imagination,” countered the second voice as the light came ever closer and split into two, revealing a human shape with lights attached to both shoulders. “You are merely playing in the mist, nothing real is produced.”
“But that’s the beauty of it!” enthused the first voice. “Total control, none of it lasts any longer than you desire it to – as soon as it no longer interests you, it is gone.”
“To be honest,” I said, “that sounds more like a disadvantage than a selling point.”
“Hmph,” snorted the first voice in disgust. “If you wish to enslave yourself to another man’s reality, then be my guest.”
It was then the second voice’s turn to take on a slightly disapproving tone. “While you play these childish games and entertain yourselves to death, there is a vast real world out there with beauty to discover, genuine adventures to be had and worthy struggles to take part in.”
“How would I leave the mist if I wanted to?” I asked.
“In less than two minutes, we will approach a bridge across the entire chasm. I will provide you with a parachute to land safely on it and then a lamp to help you find your way across, but this will be no easy journey.”
“After all the risks I took to help you,” accused the first voice, “all the ways I opened your eyes, you would willingly serve the overlords? Traitors like you make me sick, you are not worthy of my time.”
“Then begone,” said the second voice, “and let him make his choice.”
“If slavery awaits me, and I am not convinced it does, then I prefer that to this empty swirl of contradictions – the chance to find my place, touch something real and meaningful, it is worth the risk. Give me the parachute and lamp.”
The first voice gave out a disgusted sigh and quickly drifted away.
“Here you are,” announced the second voice, reaching out and grabbing my hand, looped something over my arm and reached round to loop it over the other, then guided my hands to two halves of a large metal clip. “Attach the large clip across your chest, and then there are two smaller ones to attach around your thighs.” I fumbled around with my hands until all three were snapped shut. “The lamp is attached to one of your shoulder straps, I am switching it on now.”
A bright white glow lit up the mist rushing around me and I could see some of my own form for the first time. I seemed to be an adult human, though I was still a lot less visible than the human shape opposite me.
“Next to your left breast is a handle that when pulled will release your parachute. That will slow you down abruptly, and then two handles will appear above you, one above each shoulder. Pull on the left one to turn left, and on the right one to turn right. Are you ready?”
“Yes, I have the handle.”
“Good. I will count from three and then you will pull. Three, two, one, pull!”
The straps around my thighs seemed to dig deep into my legs as the violent change in direction wrenched the air out of my lungs and tossed me around like a rag doll for a second or two, the flapping canopy lacerating the air around my ears. Gasping for breath, I looked up to see what looked like a network of glowing green veins in the mist a couple of metres above me, and two green ovals dancing just above my face. I grabbed at the ovals with each hand, assuming they were the handles I was told about, coughed and recovered my breath as the pain became bearable.
“Ow, that hurt.”
Once the canopy was stable, I had the bizarre feeling of my body now having weight, and the background noise I had perceived as almost nothing was glaring in its absence. I looked down and saw the green glow of the second voice’s canopy below me and to my left, with his two lights having now merged into one again with the distance.
“Now you are closer to flying than you have ever been in here. Practise turning left and right until you get the hang of it. Pulling both handles at once will swing you upwards and slow your forward speed, we will be doing that when we come in to land. Try it a little now to get the idea, but not too much or you may lose all forward speed and begin falling out of control.”
I tried several manoeuvres and began to grow in confidence.
“Look below us,” called the voice from the light, “you will see a large orange light approaching. That is where the bridge is at its widest, aim to land at that point.”
“Understood.”
The mist made it difficult to judge how far I was from the orange light, which separated into a large glowing ring as I approached, and before I could judge how much to pull on both handles I hit the platform hard, pain shot up my left leg and I slid across the perforated metallic surface, finishing my slide clinging to a very low rail with half of my body hanging over the precipice. I lay there motionless, panting and groaning as the other man made a much more controlled touchdown.
“Let go, you fool!” called a voice falling past.
“Fly and be free!” called another.
“No more pain!” cried a third.
“Not the smoothest of landings,” said my parachute provider, now standing over me. “If you wish to fall, then simply let go. If you wish to stand, say so and I will help you up.”
“Help me, please, but my left leg, my ankle, it hurts.”
I felt a pair of strong hands pull me carefully back from the edge, then the illuminated human shape methodically examined the injured limb. “A mild sprain, nothing more. Some discomfort, but with a little strapping you should be perfectly mobile.”
I felt some sort of footwear and a layer of fabric removed from my injured joint, then the cool of some sort of gel or liquid being applied, then a length of elastic fabric wrapped tightly around the tender area and the footwear replaced. As this was being done, I caressed the perforated metal platform I sat on, so solid and regular.
“There, now try to stand.”
I made an attempt at standing, but fell back down before reaching a half-upright position.
“It may take some time for your sense of balance to adjust, and your muscles and bones may have lost some of their strength, depending on how long you have been here. With time and practise, that will all return,” explained the voice as he removed my parachute and hung the cylindrical light around my neck. I could see the glint of the metal floor for a few metres in every direction before the mist blurred all things into one. The parachute canopies were criss-crossed with rapidly fading fluorescent green lines, and the illuminated human appeared to be stuffing their billowing silks in turn into a hole in what I assumed was the centre of the platform.
After a brief buzzing, he retrieved each parachute as a small and compact bundle that he slotted back into its pack.
“They are now ready to reuse?”
“No, they are just compressed to make them easier to carry out of here, they will need to be refolded later.” He took both parachutes over his shoulders, pressed something on the floor that switched off the ring of lights and stood to leave.
“The way out of here is narrow, but straight. Some walk their way out, some crawl, others give up and fall back into the mist – that choice is yours – but if you do make it out, then I will meet you on the other side,” and with that he turned and walked away, his light and footsteps quickly fading to a vague background impression.
The mist seemed to close in on me, threatening to overwhelm my little white light as I sat there on the platform, alone and isolated. A distant voice screamed, “Dive away! Dive away!” as it fell past with a low rush of air.
I watched the discernible ripples in the mist from the falling body quickly fade to nothing, then attempted to stand again. After two more abortive efforts, I was finally able to rise and maintain my balance on two ponderous limbs. I stepped forward and back and from side to side to regain the feel of bipedal motion, and despite the polite protests from my left ankle, started to think that I could do this.
“Leave us alone, you monster!” shouted another voice as it fell past, and I sighed, looking down at the platform on which I stood and peering into the greyness in the direction the illuminated man had disappeared.
“I’ve made my choice,” I thought aloud, and began slowly walking forwards

To be Continued …

The SJW feeding frenzy

I noticed with some amusement that Larry Correia watched a feeding frenzy among some of the Social Justice Warrior set as they set upon one of their own.

Apparently a member of the literati SJW army—and super prestigious Campbell nominee for BEST NEW WRITER—has turned out to be a huge internet troll, with a bunch of aliases, attacking and tormenting people. Of course, those of you who read this blog or followed Sad Puppies are like, duh… They attack and torment Larry, and anybody who agrees with him nonstop, but no my friends… Benjanun Sriduangkaew did the unthinkable and used their regular SJW tactics of threats, insults, intimidation, and career sabotage against fellow SJWs, and that is super badthink!
Now, when you threaten, intimidate, troll, and try to sabotage the career of anybody who disagrees with the Social Justice narrative, then that is doubleplus good! Try not to get confused.

Larry has the full details. I find these SJW types truly bizarre, they seem disconnected from reality. So obsessed with identity politics and the Progressive Stack and who can take gold at the Victimhood Olympics.
Don’t worry, Sci Phi is never going to go along with any of this sort of thing. I care nothing for your background when it comes to buying stories, I only care that you spin an interesting tale.
Story is everything … well … except the philsophy … that matters too.

On Submissions and payments

I think it is time to offer some feedback on submissions to sci phi journal and explain something of my approach to such things. First up, thanks to everyone who has submitted, the quality of submissions has been really high and I have enjoyed reading all of the submissions. There have been some I have rejected and in general rejection has been because it isn’t really what I was looking for, rather than being no good. Sorry if anybody is waiting still to hear back, I am working through the pile as time allows.
What has bothered me a though is people offering submissions and then mentioning that it doesn’t matter to them if I pay them for the submission or not, or offering it at a discount rate. Could you please stop doing this! I really don’t need the temptation and it won’t improve your chances of getting something published in the magazine. I pay 5c a word with a 5c a word bonus if I sell 5000 issues in the first 90 days. It is like that for a reason. If I don’t think you story is worth paying 5c a word for, if I am not willing to part with my hard earned wages to buy it, then I don’t want it for the magazine. My willingness to pay acts as a quality filter. If I don’t like the story enough to pay for it then offering it to me for free won’t convince me to publish it.
Offering your story for free communicates that you think the work is garbage and unworthy of my attention. I know this may not be your intent but if you thought it was good and worth 5c a word, why would you offer to give it away for free? If I think it is worth paying for I am happy to pay for it. Offering not to be paid for the story will work against my willingness to publish it because if you don’t believe in the submission why should I?
If you really don’t care about being paid and just want the publishing credit then there is a right way to do that. One of the contributors, after I sent the contract and arranged payment he asked me to keep the money as a donation to the magazine. I appreciated that immensely and it did help out and help to keep things running till this pays for itself, but it wasn’t offered up front. Thank you again anonymous contributor, you know who you are.

Cory Doctorow has an interesting take on Amazon and Audible

I found an interesting article by Cory Doctorow over at Locus Mag where he is talking about Audible, Comixology, Amazon and Doctorows First Law. He doesn’t care much for DRM and I actually agree with him wholeheartedly on this, it doesn’t work, it has never proved effective and you are basically telling your customers you think they are thieves, it seems counter productive.
I think he is basically right about about his concerns over DRM on Kindles and Audible books and the Audible DRM particularly annoys me personally. He notes that …

Anyone who believes that Audible would hesitate to use its market power to extract additional profit at the expense of its suppliers – that is, writers and publishers – is delusional. Not because Audible is evil, but because it is a for-profit corporation that is seeking to maximize its gain. The lesson of Hachette is that Amazon plays hardball when it can, and the more leverage Amazon has over its suppliers, the more it will use that leverage to its suppliers’ detriment.

I’m not sure this is completely true. Amazon certainly has a lot of leverage, but it isn’t infinite. If nothing else, if they squeeze their supplier to hard their supplier will no longer be in a position to supply to them because they have gone out of business. This isn’t exactly something you want to be known for doing to your suppliers. There are other brakes on such behavior as well. Customers are a fickle bunch, and they will buy on price, but not always and eventually they will manage to annoy them sufficiently.
Time will tell I suppose. I have found Amazon pretty reasonable to work with so far. At least for the magazine, they don’t care if I distribute with someone else as well, although they offer incentives not too, they don’t force DRM on the titles, and they offer me a pretty sizable cut of the sale price. They also charge nothing up front, so they are taking on all the costs of hosting and indexing the volume for free. I’m sure the cost is tiny per volume for them and there is an economy of scale involved, but I couldn’t do it myself and their cut of 0 sales is still $0.

Bill DeSmedt's Singularity Free on Apple Today

I got the following in an email from Bill DeSmedt today, author of Singularity (The Archon Sequence) and Dualism (Archon Sequence)

A special deal for you: Today through Tuesday, November 18th, Apple iBooks is holding a “First in a Series Free!” sale, and Singularity is part of it.
So if you’ve ever wanted an e-readable version of the first book in the Archon Sequence, here’s how you can get one for FREE:
Fire up iTunes
Click on the “iTunes Store” button
Scroll down to the “New and Notable” section
Click on the large black button labeled “FREE – First in a Series / MYSTERIES & THRILLERS”
Scroll down till you see the Singularity icon and click on it
Finally, click on the FREE download button on the resulting page
(While you’re on this page you might want to scroll down to the bottom and pick up a copy of The Singularity Files, which goes into the science behind Singularity — it’s FREE too.)
That’s it. Oh, and you might want to browse some of the other great titles on offer as part of this “First in a Series Free” deal while you’re at it.

I read it years ago and did an interview with him about Dualism for the Sci Phi Show but if you like audio books and haven’t read/listened to it, this is well worth picking up.
Update: Bill contacted me and said http://tw.apple.com/fiasmysteriesthrillers works as a link as well!

Pitch Tag!

A colleague at work introduced me to an interesting new game Pitch Tag. A game normally played with two people, although I see no reason why it wouldn’t scale up.
In the original version of Pitch Tag one player suggests a title for a board game and then the other player must flesh out the idea and come up with a short pitch to sell the idea of the game. Once the pitch is complete the player then comes up with his own title and the first player must come up with a pitch to describe that game. Rinse and repeat till you get tired of it.
My colleague and I have been playing it via email at work and using computer games instead of board games. So far we have had pitches for games such as, “Dawn of the Blood Pixies”, “C’thulu’s Lemonade Stand”, “The Falling Tree” and “The Sheep of Solitude”. I’m not sure if I should be concerned that the first two are mine, or that I would probably play them!
Perhaps we should try a game of this, pitching story ideas on our new Facebook Group.

Larry Correia is up for a GoodReads Award for MHI:Nemesis

Do you enjoy Larry Correia’s Monster Hunter International stuff? It seems that the most recent installment is up for a Good Reads Horror Choice Award and you can vote for it here. Larry was talking about it here.
I haven’t got up to Monster Hunter Nemesis
yet, as I was one of those “Science Fiction Fans who has been in a bomb shelter since the Clinton administration”, but am enjoying the first Monster Hunter International book. Any book that has mystical elves that turn out to be a bunch of backwoods red necks gets my vote.