Module Six focused on time travel, a distinctly SF theme that never ceases to stupefy me and produce headaches, my brain working similarly to those classic scenes in which a computer is asked a question beyond its abilities and begins to overheat and malfunction. Not only are time travel and all of its built-in paradoxes difficult to comprehend, but they also are often difficult to write in a hard SF style. Stories involving time travel almost always require a caveat, some sort of loophole that allows the narrative to function. Perhaps to gloss over these inevitable inconsistencies, stories often make only vague descriptions of the time travel mechanism, raising questions about the placement of these stories in the SF genre – if the science which serves as the foundation of the story is not detailed and accurate, or at least does not make any attempt to be, what about the story makes it science fiction? Several of the stories in Module Six fit this description, as they rely on unspecific characterizations of time travel as their foundational plot device. Despite this relevant question, I find that I enjoy SF stories about time travel much more if they dwell less on the way time travel works. I loved Kindred and really enjoyed “The Sound of Thunder,” not least because time travel was an interesting, but not flummoxing plot point. Because the authors took little time to delve into the specifics of time travel, I could spend less time thinking in circles about the butterfly effect and grandfather/granddaughter paradox and more time thinking about the interesting ways time travel allows for new situations to occur and for popular ideas to play out. I was amazed at the literal connections Dana could have with her ancestor, Alice, after all of the literature I have read about oppressed peoples connecting with their heritage in various ways to understand the past. Similarly, “The Sound of Thunder” prompted me to think about the current market for big game hunting in Africa and the general trend of the mounting desire among humans for whatever is bigger and better and will show that they are superior to their peers, similar to Mr. Van Vogel’s desire to show up his peers, at any cost, in “Jerry Was A Man.” The story also made me think about the necessity of considering the consequences of our actions, which is well summarized in the story’s pioneering use of the butterfly effect.

The Terminator 2 movie definitely fits into my prior characterization of a story that glosses over the specifics of time travel while using it as an essential, driving feature of the story. What was more striking to me about the movie, however, was just how much it reminded me of Susan Sontag’s “Notes on ‘Camp,’” which I read recently, and so only recently understood the meaning behind the widely used phrase “campy.” I think that the Terminator movies, along with movies I love, like Zoolander and Heathers, are undeniably campy, and that this, rather than their objective cinematic quality, is what makes us appreciate them. I burst out laughing during all of the chase scenes, during the dramatic leap onto the helicopter, and each time when Schwarzenegger would clench his jaw strangely and say something like “I’ll be Bach,” or “Hasta la vista, baby.” And while I enjoyed seeing the sorts of technology that people in the 90s imagined would take over (whether in the sense of literal power or just market appeal) in the future, I was much more focused on these campy, ridiculous aspects. Campy movies produce the same sort of joy that comes with eating fried food or watching an overproduced “reality” TV show, and I think they are an important, though undoubtedly laughable, part of the entertainment industry.

“The Light of Other Days” was interesting to me both because Shaw is incredibly adept at producing an accurate representation of the death of a relationship in such a short story, and because slow glass is just another one of the cool new gadgets we are reading about. The parallel between the escapist uses for slow glass in the story and the uses for screens today is immediately apparent. I think that there is a growing belief, although it is largely unspoken, that in a world where the quality of life has gotten better for many but will inevitably decline for all with current trends in global climate change, perception has to become more important than reality. It reminded me of the scenes in Ready Player One, where their world had pretty much gone to shit and people were living in heaps atop one another but could almost entirely ignore the reality of their situation through some very complex VR.