Terra Nova: An Anthology of Contemporary Spanish Science Fiction

By Mariano Villarreal

Six top Spanish-language authors prove that science fiction remains sharp and visionary, with stories about the deepest anxieties, challenges, and problems of our societies. Their speculations and metaphors analyze and dissect a reality in continuous change.

"The Texture of Words", by Felicidad Martínez: women seek to lead despite being blind and dependent, while men fight constant wars.

"Deirdre", by Lola Robles: in the future, robotics can create made-to-order lovers.

"Greetings from a Zombie Nation", by Eric J. Mota: a stagnant society turns its citizens into the living dead.

"Light a Lone Candle", by Victor Conde: social networks want too much and never let go.

"Bodies", by Juanfran Jiménez: in a globalized and pseudodemocratic Europe, the rich practice sex tourism by means of mind exchange.

"Memory", by Teresa P. Mira de Echeverría: personal relationships and sex roles evolve in radical ways on a terraformed Mars in a relatively near future.

"Science Fiction from Spain", by Mariano Villarreal: a close view of what Spanish science fiction is and has been.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sportula
• Release date: Jun 21, 2013
• ISBN: 9788494127472

Mariano Villarreal

Administrador del portal web Literatura Fantástica, especializado en información y crítica de novedades de género fantástico y de ciencia ficción en España.

Book preview

TERRA NOVA

AN ANTHOLOGY OF CONTEMPORARY SPANISH SCIENCE FICTION

Co-selected by Mariano Villarreal and Luis Pestarini

© 2013 by Sportula

Originally published in Spanish in 2012 as Terra Nova. Antología de Ciencia Ficción Contemporánea

The Texture of Words: © 2012 by Felicidad Martínez

Deirdre: © 2012 by Lola Robles

Greetings from a Zombie Nation: © 2012 by Erick J. Mota

Light a Lone Candle: © 2012 by Víctor Conde

Bodies: © 2012 by Juanfran Jiménez

Memory: © 2012 by Teresa P. Mira de Echeverría

Science Fiction from Spain: © 2013 by Mariano Villarreal

Translation of Light a Lone Candle, The Texture of Words, Bodies, Science Fiction from Spain, the Introductions and the Who Is Who: © 2013 by Sue Burke

Translation of Deirdre, Greetings from a Zombie Nation, Memory: © 2013 Lawrence Schimel

Cover Illustration: © 2012 by Ángel Benito Gastañaga

Cover Design: Sportula

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the permission of the copyright owners.

The Texture of Words, Felicidad Martínez

Deirdre, Lola Robles

Greetings from a Zombie Nation, Erick J. Mota

Light a Lone Candle, Víctor Conde

Bodies, Juanfran Jiménez

Memory, Teresa P. Mira de Echeverría

Science Fiction from Spain, Mariano Villarreal

Who is Who

Sportula

To all those who supported this project since its beginning and let our dreams soar higher: Kaesar, Joseba B., Luis Alfonso, Andoni, Joseba S., Lola, Luisa María, Nacho, Ricardo, José Manuel, Pedro, Luis and the rest of the friends from the Bilbao science fiction club, TerBi. Thank you, thank you very much.

Special thanks to Elías F. Combarro (@odo), our collaborator for international promotion, for helping us to publicize this book and its contents to some of the most important people involved in science fiction from around the world.

Also thanks to Luis Pestarini, co-selector of the Spanish original anthology, part of which has been used in this volume.

And to all the writers, translators, artists, collaborators and other friends who have accompanied us on this long journey and given their best. We’re still going to need you —we hope for a long time.

Felicidad Martínez is a technical engineer in industrial design, and she combines her professional work as an illustrator and design teacher with writing, principally science fiction. She has published stories in the Argentinean online magazine Axxon and the anthology Visiones 2007, published by the Spanish Association for Fantasy, Science Fiction and Horror, among other publications.

The Texture of Words was published in 2012 as part of the tribute anthology to the greatest and most far-reaching space opera universe ever created in Spanish science fiction: the Akasa-Puspa saga written by Juan Miguel Aguilera and Javier Redal. This hard science fiction epic located in the remote future and created with strict scientific rigor has been compared to classics like The Mote in God’s Eye and Ringworld. In this case, Martínez’s story transcends the setting of the saga to offer a self-contained story that shows special sensitivity.

Both terrible and extraordinarily emotional, this story’s depth comes from the introspection of magnificently drawn characters within the society where they live: a cry for freedom and a critique of the role assigned to women in oppressive totalitarian societies. This amazing story can be compared to others as notable as The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood or the best works by the brilliant Ursula K. Le Guin. We believe it will interest not just science fiction fans but any minimally engaged reader.

For Charni, at first the world was noise. Mostly noise.

Sometimes it came from anywhere, sometimes from her —or so it seemed.

Even hunger and pain were noise. And little by little, she began understanding that she could make her own noise at will to satisfy both, although she didn’t always get an immediate response.

There were also flavors and smells that, combined with noise, allowed her to get a faster response to her needs. Still, what finally helped her to be aware of the space she occupied in that strange world without limits was touch.

It was not easy at first.

Feeling and texture surrounded her existence. Soft, rough, cold, wet … Instinctively she made one sound for agreeable textures and another for disagreeable ones, but at times that was not enough.

There were two points in her existence, two independent collectors of information, that let her feel and perceive what was close to her, and, otherwise, to relieve disagreeable sensations in certain parts of her being. They were incredible sources of information.

When another presence, another being, placed an agreeable pressure on her, surrounding her, making relaxing sounds instead of noise, she only had to think of reaching the source of these sensations and instantly felt closeness. A strange sensation of protection and care.

At times something made those two sensitive collectors perceive textures and, more disconcertingly, sounds. Vibrations, really, that came from a focused noisemaker very much like the one she had in a place within her being and with which until then she had been able to express hunger, pain, sleep, discomfort, pleasure … and little by little her noisemaker was able to imitate the sounds emitted by the external source.

Still, the most incredible thing was to discover through those points for absorbing information that more things existed and they were finite. They had … contours. She understood the concepts as large, small, same, larger, smaller. … And there were more beings with textures! Beings independent from each other. Even she had limits. Limits! And the most incredible: her limits expanded. The longer she waited between checking and checking again, the more she noticed it.

This way, over the course of her own expansion, she learned the difference between noise and sound, sound and vibrations, vibrations and repetitions, repetitions and concepts, and concept and words. And what made her an isolated entity the other beings was the word Charni.

Little by little, she was able to differentiate the beings that surrounded her own with sufficient precision and to associate a word, a concept transformed into sound, to designate them.

There were two main kinds: inert and living.

It took practice to recognize and differentiate the inert ones because although they possessed textures, smells and flavors, in general they did not make sounds unless they were forced to. Yet, the characteristics that defined them tended to be invariable, so once they were learned and memorized, it was hard to mistake them.

Living beings, on the other hand, were more complex. It was true that they continually produced sounds and noises that characterized them, although the differences could be subtle. Still, their features could be variable. Their textures, smells, and even sounds could change, at times slightly and at other times markedly.

Charni always had to concentrate as hard as she could with all her senses to recognize them and differentiate them satisfactorily. But she discovered that the key lay, above all, in the living beings whose limits did not expand. And once she had memorized the curves of their upper contour and compared them with her own, even in spite of the small changes they could suffer, the margin of error for identifying them was minimal.

But what fascinated Charni was the pronunciation of sounds that were used to designate the different beings and their implications.

Inert beings could be recognized and identified generally by one word, while living ones, which were complex in themselves, could be assigned more than one pronounced sound, depending on which being was naming them.

For example, she had been made to understand that the word that defined herself as a being was Charni. Still, the living being closest to her (a sweet smell with a touch of bitterness, a warm and soft texture, a melodic sound, a slightly salty taste, and until recently a supply of food) at times used the word daughter.

This usually implied something agreeable, while she was called Charni, it tended to be used to call her attention and, on occasions, to order her to do something after reprimanding her for an error or misbehavior.

On the other hand, another being (strong odor with a tinge of acidity, smooth texture, somewhat moist, slightly bitter flavor, and a low, harsh sound) frequently appeared in the area that they inhabited, making a lot of sounds against inert beings. Instead of using the word Charni, it always used girl. Or when it wanted to imply rejection, kid. Occasionally, though, it added your to the designation daughter, but only when it spoke of her to the nearby being as if Charni were not present … even though she was.

But things did not stop there, not at all. The ramification and implications of names were complex and connected to the references of their distinct origins.

To begin with, the nearby being did not like Charni to call her Kesha the way others did who approached them (generally with agreeable aromas and soft sounds). Even less it liked to be called woman as other beings would address her. These beings that came to visit had strong smells and deep sounds and soon made strange, peculiar sounds and impregnated everything with strong smells that bore an acidic aftertaste.

No. Charni ought to call her mama and, for some reason, she liked to make that sound. Whenever she thought about or pronounced the sounds that formed that word, she immediately associated it with protection, caresses, breath, and teaching.

Ah … the world was so intricate. … Absolutes did not exist, only references and groups. Complex branches of thought whose origin developed from her own perceptions, the perception of herself and her relationship with the world that enveloped her, that moved, and that existed around her.

Touch defined dimensions, contours, limits, and supplied sensorial concepts. Noises showed positions, revealed existences, and gave names to distinct beings that tactile words could not define. And smells and tastes finally outlined the mixture and gave them complete consistency.

At times when she emitted noises and vibrations at a certain level of her being, inside herself, her contour became wet and sticky, and every time she wondered what would happen if she were to be without one of those senses.

No, no, no. She did not want to think of how the world would lose its consistency and become something strange, confusing, unlimited and undefined if she could not perceive it and define it in its totality.

Charni’s limits kept growing at almost the same rhythm at which she continued to learn to define the world that surrounded her. Mama, who almost never left her side, was the one who showed her the different pronunciation of sounds and textures to understand what existed in her surroundings.

At one point, Mama firmly took her by the mid-upper level of her contour and moved her through infinite space, giving her no more contact with the world as she traveled than that light pressure and a strange yet pleasurable sensation in the midpoint of her being.

Then, to her confusion, she put her in contact with the surface which until then she had only perceived along the length of her contour, but this time only by means of her lower collection points.

Come on, Charni. You can do it, Mama told her. Don’t bend over. Hold yourself up with them. Feel the surface only in that place. Come on. Be steady.

Charni did not understand most of these sounds or their meanings, so it was hard to understand what Mama was really asking of her, and even harder to do it efficiently. But Mama did not give up or let her give up.

Almost systematically, she held Charni, forcing her to consolidate her collection points on the lower surface. Then she guided her to touch Mama’s own long and straight lower contours and memorize what she had to do to make her own, shorter and slightly curved, be the same. Then Mama moved away and did not come back until the mid-lower contour of Charni hit the lower surface of the world. And then … she repeated it all.

After many, many attempts and a great deal of effort, Charni managed to make her lower collection points obey her. They did not lose contact at any time with the surface under them, nor did other parts of her contour wind up touching it.

Mama gave her caresses and agreeable sounds that almost put her in ecstacy. But the celebration did not last long.

After a few moments, Mama made her move along the surface, first by dragging her collection points and then making them, one at a time, briefly lose contact with what was below them and … move through nothingness!

It was an odyssey and took an enormous effort to do what Mama urged her to do, and yet, for some strange reason, she felt happy each time she did it.

She lost track of time and the number of times she had to try until she could move by herself without the safe touch of Mama. And when she succeeded … the world became even bigger and wider than Charni had previously supposed. It was an amazing discovery.

There were more contours, beings, and textures. She perceived them with her collection points, she smelled them, she hit them so they would make noise, she savored everything until she had completely memorized it. Then she asked Mama for the pronunciations of the sounds that defined the inert entities that she did not know, so she was able to give consistency and to put limits on the newly discovered, explored, and conquered space.

Later, when her lower contours became stronger and more obedient and she had memorized everything around her, she began to move around in the world with more security. And with each attempt, she went faster and faster. It was so exciting …

But one time when she was calmly running around within the limits that she knew so well, an unexpected being put itself in her way.

Charni lost her balance and wound up on the lower surface of the world, spread flat, unable to stop it.

Her first surprise. A tremendous one. Why was something there when there was nothing there before? Why had something new been added to what she already knew? Why? Then she felt pain in various parts of her contour. Sharp, persistent pain. And her immediate, instinctive response was to make noise, a lot of noise, from her emitting focus.

No. No, Charni, no, Mama scolded. Strong girls don’t do that.

It hurts … she managed to pronounce, unable to control the noise for which she had been reprimanded.

Yes, I know, and you will be hurt again. But you must learn to endure it or else you’ll start to walk through the world with fear, and that would be very bad.

Once again, Charni found it hard to understand everything that Mama was saying with sounds and tactile sensations. Still, she thought she correctly perceived the implications and intentions. So, after with an enormous force of will, she managed to lower the volume of the sound that her noise emitter was making.

That’s better, Mama congratulated her. And now, get up. These two always in front. She grabbed her two upper collectors and made her keep them stretched out. With time you’ll learn to cushion the blow and even avoid falling.

Charni did not understand that, either, but once she had recovered from the scare, she was ready again to travel the world, and it did not matter too much what Mama had meant. Time would tell.

Mama. Fe-ah? she said before she began again. Its pronunciation and the implications she had perceived in it intrigued her.

No. No fear, Charni. You have to be brave or you won’t survive in this world with the dignity of a Ksatrya.

More pronunciations, more tactile sensations that she did not recognize. Her question had really meant to ask for an explanation about the concept, but she did not know how to connect all the words to express her intentions correctly. But once she was steady above the surface again, she set aside her curiosity and ran around the world again. She wanted to discover where those beings came from that had not been in the space she knew before.

Mama, what is ‘see’?

Mama paused in the middle of the concept that she was transmitting to Charni over part of her contour. Mama had insisted she learn that words did not have to always be sounds. Ideas and concepts could also be articulated by means of tactile sensations. In fact, the words she drew over different parts of her being had wider meanings and, in some cases, could even impart emotions.

Who said this? Mama asked with a marked interest in her tone.

Chaid Khasat. He said, ‘You can’t see, girl.’

The conversation has really been longer, but Charni decided that repeating the sounds involved was unnecessary and irrelevant at that moment. Still, she had made sure to use the same tone to transmit the information as faithfully as possible.

Oh … well, him, Mama replied with a tone whose meaning and implication Charni could not define.

Chaid Khasat was a peculiar being and, besides, he did not like to be called by that name. Charni had to speak to him with the designation of man or sir (above all sir). Very occasionally, if he was in the mood, she could call him Chaid, but that very rarely happened.

Mama usually called him sir Khasat or, when he was not around, damned invalid, good for nothing.

In spite of the implications of that second designation, Charni truly felt a certain fascination toward him, first because although the beings she knew had different limits, their contours were similar to each other. And yet those of Chaid Khasat were not.

She had begun to suspect the sounds he used and his behavior were so different from other beings because of his contour.

Chaid was clumsy. Very clumsy. He moved in the world as if he did not sense its smells, his touch was atrophied, the sounds of things did not reach him, he did not recognize the world, or he were sensing or perceiving it for the first time.

He also did not like it when Charni enveloped him with her contour to strike up a conversation and seemed nervous or agitated when she sketched words on his.

Go away, girl. I’m not your stuffed toy, were sounds he made often.

On one hand, Charni had noticed that each time Chaid Khasat ran into an inert entity, he swore quietly and got into a bad mood. He suffered for his clumsiness and pretended it did not matter, yet sometimes he was infuriated the restrained laughter of the beings who had sweet scents, soft and warm textures and melodious sounds.

Women: she remembered the word that Mama had told her to use, above all in front of the beings that shared the predominant characteristic of strong odors and low sounds.

Men: she scolded herself for not having used the sound that defined them in the first place, at least in her head.

Yes. As much as she preferred the tactile words Mama had shown her that transmitted wider concepts, she had to force herself to use those sounds, above all in the presence of … men.

Mama especially insisted on that. Men were not suitable for using the textures of words. They had something called pride that not only blocked them from that kind of learning, it made them react with violence or rejection when a woman tried to remind them of that.

Hmm … Mama emitted the vibration of doubt before confronting the explanation. Let’s texture the sound ‘to see,’ all right?

She enveloped Charni even more with her contour to allow her to use sounds and tactile words in her explanation.

As far as we women know, men are born with an additional sense to the ones we have, a sense that lets them obtain more information about what surrounds us and give it even more consistency. And this same sense lets them explore and move in the world that exists beyond our own. Without it, survival wouldn’t be possible.

A world beyond? The idea overwhelmed Charni. More worlds? Was that possible?

"Yes, Charni. You’re still not developed enough to know the true limits of ours, which is much more defined than what you’ve perceived so far. And that’s because, besides this world, there’s another world that can be reached from certain spaces in ours, and it is so big, so enormous, that without this fifth sense we would be lost in infinity and never find the way to get back to our home.

"This unlimited space is filled with so much information that without the sense of sight, we couldn’t understand it. In fact, even our own beings would reject it. We couldn’t stand it. Imagine something like that, Charni. We have to give thanks that men have this sense because only they can protect us from those who inhabit this strange world.

Each time I have been able to produce a man inside of me, I have felt happy … because I have helped protect our world. And protect you, my daughter. You, me, and all the women here.

Although the sounds and caresses that accompanied the explication did not completely fill in the empty spots in Charni’s understanding, the idea that Mama could produce men to ensure the survival of women like herself made her pleased, surprised, fascinated and overwhelmed all at once. And it was still a difficult concept to take in.

But … but … she began to say. More information? How?

I can’t explain something to you that I don’t know myself, Charni. Some men have tried to explain this fifth sense to me, although it was hard for me to understand. They used words like ‘light’ or ‘colors,’ but they have never known how to transmit the concept to me. I’m sorry. I’m not being much help to you.

Charni tried to put all those concepts within the limits she understood and could assimilate. To think of unlimited was not too difficult for her. Something inside her being told her that there really was something that existed beyond the contours that she knew at that moment. Yet, if men had a fifth sense …

But Mama, why doesn’t Chaid Khasat know how to move here. Doesn’t he see?

No, Charni. He lost an extremity. And although he kept the member that allows men to see, now he can’t do it because he isn’t whole. And since they only use that sense to fight and protect the entrances to this world and they don’t need other senses to do that, when they lose it, it’s difficult for them to live in our world.

A body part to see?

Yes. Here. She indicated the area of her contour where the lower extremities united. We don’t have it, that’s why we don’t have that sense and can’t live in that world.

Oh … a woman can’t?

It was difficult for Charni to imagine something like that, but at the same time it was the only explanation for that fifth sense. If her being, except for the upper contour, was a lot like men’s, an extra collector that let them see was the logical answer, the same way that she used her two upper collectors to feel.

Hmm … something like that, Mama replied. When you’re more developed I’ll tell you how they use their member in us so that their fifth sense continues to work and serve us. Now I want you to get prepared. Tomorrow is your first day in school, and I have my hopes placed in you. If you follow my steps, you can become a queen, like me.

Although Mama had explained with sounds and textures what school was like, to experience it for herself was something amazing.

Like the route to take to get there, for example.

Mama had made it well textured that she must perceive everything on the way and that she would accompany her until she had memorized it or until Charni herself asked her to let her go there alone. And it was fascinating to perceive all the contours of textures that until then were unknown, the large number of aromas that came to her, the sounds that seemed to come from all sides, and the quantity of new beings who placed themselves in her path and even stopped her a few times to exchange information.

Oh! To memorize the route would not be too difficult, but to learn to move around despite so many unexpected barriers would be the big challenge. A trial by fire that, according to Mama, would make her a stronger, better woman.

Added to that were the quantity of beings with common characteristics but all kinds of limits that had been brought together in the school.

As she would discover later, all the beings with almost-equal contours and limits were gathered together and brought to certain spaces separated from the rest. And in each space there was another being, a woman with the same characteristics as Mama, who assigned each of the other beings, girls like her, to specific places … and she began to explain the world to them without interruptions and only by articulating sounds!

There were so many new sounds that it was difficult for Charni to take them all in. Class, desk, seat, cloths …

They were also permitted rest times during which the girls of her class played and talked with her.

To share sounds and tactile words with other girl beings with limits and contours like her own was so entertaining and fascinating. … The exchange of information was so high that when Mama came to get her and take her to the space called home, she was so exhausted that she did not wait long to go to bed and sleep.

And each time that she went to school, she learned something new. Many things, really.

The being called Teache was friendly and very patient with the girls, but firm when she needed to be. She punished disobedience or slow learning in such a way that a girl had to have very little self-confidence to err again.

As time went on, the subjec of the languas of sounds and textures, the conceps of mathematics became more complex. As did the interactions with other girls in her class.

While at first they were all like one being united by the need not to feel alone because they were out of touch with their own mamas, they soon formed little groups. First it was because their desks were together, but that changed with each rest time. And unexpectedly, the fight began.

Charni’s group of friens became smaller while Latha’s grew. That in itself should not have bothered her, since everyone was free to go wherever she wished in the company of whomever she wanted.

Reviews for Terra Nova

[cbrachyrhynchos_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This edition is the English translation of a larger anthology of Spanish science fiction, hopefully the first volume of more to come. The stories are all very good and a few struck me as brilliant. At least three of the stories have explicitly or implicitly lesbian or bisexual protagonists. The mood of the pieces range from heavy feminist dystopias to cyberpunk thrillers.

The most difficult work, "The Texture of Words" by Felicidad Martínez is the first story in the volume. The narrative follows the protagonist's social, political, and linguistic development from infancy through early adulthood. It's a story that compares well with Le Guin's Left Hand of Darkness in giving a human but alien perspective, and Tepper's Gate to Women's Country in political tone. Challenging as it is, I think it's probably the leading work of the volume, but one that might be skipped if you want a more gentle introduction.

The closing story, "Memory" by Teresa P. Mira de Escheverría is a sprawling colonial epic of genetic engineering, sexuality, and terraforming with connections to Martian Chronicles and Dune. It's a story the left me wanting more. Eric P. Mota's "Greetings from a Zombie Nation" stands out among the middle works for both providing a Cuban perspective and a novel take on the idea of a zombie apocalypse.

The afterword for the collection provides an introduction to Science Fiction in Spain, with a depressingly small list of works translated into English. An additional point for the book is the beautiful cover art by Ángel Benito Gastañaga, which easily stands out as the best cover illustration I've seen this year.