This week, Futures is delighted to welcome back Gretchen Tessmer, who reveals the truth about How it feels to be swallowed by a black hole. Gretchen, an attorney/writer based in the US–Canadian borderlands of northern New York, last year introduced us to the Hive. You can find out more about her work by following her on Twitter. Here, she reveals what inspired her latest tale — as ever, it pays to read the story first.

Writing How it feels to be swallowed by a black hole

I’ve always been fascinated by black holes. I mean, who isn’t? There really could be anything in there. Or nothing, I suppose. Or everything! Your guess is as good as mine.

Well, honestly, yours is probably better…considering I’m going to die on the gravitationally time-diluted hill that says we’ll be able to crest the event horizon without spaghettification (what a word, right?) and see what’s happening in there.

Because otherwise, what a disappointment. Not to future scientists, who will probably have a much better grasp on what to expect once they get to the point where it all becomes knowable. But rather, for present me, who has a brain that loves unknowns and possibilities and kind of wants the other side to be a punchline or a black screen of infinitely rolling credits – With Special Thanks To Our Special Effects Department and Apologies, As Always, To The Dinosaurs…

This story originated as part of a writing contest. The prompt I was given led me to a sentient radio (à la the one in The Brave Little Toaster – anyone remember that cinematic semi-nightmare?)…but in the middle of writing that story, I suddenly became fixated on the idea that even radio waves can’t escape a black hole and had to write this one down instead.

So I typed “How It Feels To Be Swallowed By A Black Hole” at the top of a blank page and just went from there.

This week, Futures is dipping its toe into the world of romance with Marissa Lingen’s story Say it with mastodons. Regular readers will be well versed in Marissa’s work, but if you’re new to her writing, please check out her website and Twitter feed — as well as the other stories she has written for Futures at the foot of this post. Here, Marissa reveals what inspired her romantic tale — as ever, it pays to read the story first.

Writing Say it with mastodons — or The romance of dirt

I like flowers.

I like them, but I don’t love them, mostly. Tiger lilies are my favourite. Of the traditional romantic gifts, give me chocolate any day, the darker the better. Books and fountain-pen ink are even higher on the list. A bouquet of roses will make some people feel seen and cherished; others will feel like the giver was just checking off a box on the Romance List, not valued at all. Romantic gifts are not just in the eye of the beholder — they’re in the eye of the beheld.

Which brings us to the mastodons. What makes a person a science-fiction writer is a pretty open question, but I think that you’re at least inclining that way if you start to think about the shape of love story people would have to have for mastodons to be a romantic gift — what kind of people they would have to be, what else that would say about their surroundings. But who could resist mastodons? I mean. I suspect that a large portion of the readership of Nature Futures are exactly the kind of people who would be bowled over by that gift.

I’ve also been thinking about dirt a lot, about soil health. I feel like it’s a topic we haven’t written enough science fiction about. Last month — after I wrote this story, before I write the next five stories — I was fortunate enough to attend a soil-science conference, and the speakers kept returning to themes of interdependence. The benefits of large browsing/grazing mammals to soil health fascinate me. It’s part of the way that environments can’t successfully be taken apart into pieces, part of how everything is dependent on everything else. So it all got wrapped up together: love and dirt and hope and mastodons, and the way that we work together for the benefit of things — and people — we love.

Other Futures stories by Marissa Lingen

My favourite sentience | Seven point two | Planet of the five rings | Running safety tips for humans| The most important thing | The many media hypothesis | Boundary waters | Maxwell’s Demon went down to Georgia | The stuff we don’t do | Unsolved logistical problems in time travel: spring semester | Entanglement | Quality control | Search strings | Alloy

Somewhat fittingly for the week running up to the 100th anniversary of Armistice Day, Futures finds itself in the midst of the First World War courtesy of Remembrance by Melanie Rees. Melanie is an Australian speculative fiction writer and ecological scientist, and you can find out more about her work on her website or by following her on Twitter. Here she reveals the surprising origins of her latest tale — as ever, it pays to read the story first.

Writing Remembrance

I’m rarely able to pinpoint the precise inspiration of my stories. Usually a swarm of ideas, characters, themes and images are buzzing around my head until some of them unite to start a new story hive with a sense of structure and coherence.

However, Remembrance started on the 4^th of May for a 48-hour writing challenge, so the origin is quite clear-cut. The prompt, not surprisingly for May the forth, was Star Wars with a few iconic words and quotes to feature in the story.

ANZAC Day was just over a week prior to this, so the setting came to me quickly, and the use of time travel to get to my setting wormed its way in naturally.

For those who aren’t familiar with ANZAC Day, it is held on the 25^th of April and marks the landing of Australian and New Zealand forces at Gallipoli Beach during the First World War.

The Death Star was massive, its target massive. So I took my story to the other extreme with a small weapon and very specific targets.

My first draft went completely overboard with the quotes and Star Wars references. There was even the line, “I am your father”, which appeared during a very literal grandfather paradox. Plus it had an even more convoluted subplot with the great grandfather war hero character claiming: “No. I am your father.”

It was ludicrous. However, in the midst of all those horrendous quotes and nonsense, a serious story lurked that I really wanted to tell.

The morality of drone warfare has intrigued me for a while, such as the asymmetric nature of war, especially in contrast to the First World War with opposing forces with similar technology, along with the philosophical qualms of fighting when the enemy isn’t very tangible.

The additional factor of time travel, brings an extra level of disconnect between drone operator and an enemy that technically isn’t even alive anymore. I realized there was plenty of character conflict to get my teeth into. And hopefully, enough for readers to take something away from the story.