I had heard a lot of good things about Jim Baen’s Universe but hadn’t yet read the magazine, so this was a treat. All of the stories in the October 2008 issue were entertaining, professional, and provided food for thought. The stories and other writings are grouped by categories: science fiction, fantasy, serials, classics, “introducing stories” (new authors), and columns. The one science fiction story that should, I thought, have been placed in the “serials” category, at least was headed “Part One,” so it was a pretty safe bet that the whole story wouldn’t be there. I poked around the website a little, learning that you can subscribe to read the magazine online or download a number of different electronic formats, such as the PDF I was sent for review.

Can a robot have a soul? Is it capable of worship? Should it be allowed to worship with people? In “Article of Faith” by Mike Resnick, Reverend Edward Morris is faced with those questions when Jackson, his church cleaning and maintenance robot, begins studying religion.

It all starts innocently enough. Rev. Morris’s old maintenance robot has just been replaced by a new one, whose programming apparently makes him the ideal servant: courteous, attentive, and anxious to please. Bit by bit, Rev. Morris answers Jackson’s questions regarding religious practices, and eventually invites the robot to critique his sermons, pointing out obvious errors or logical inconsistencies. To facilitate this process, he has Jackson read the Bible. Shocked when Jackson expresses a desire to join the church, Rev. Morris tries unsuccessfully to convince Jackson that robots are soulless machines, different from humans. The pastor, a thoughtful and compassionate man, gradually comes to respect Jackson’s well-reasoned arguments:

“You can be switched off,” I pointed out. “Ask any roboticist.”

“So can you,” replied Jackson. “Ask any doctor. Or any marksman.”

There’s the meat of the story: who gets to decide who or what is acceptable to God? Unfortunately for Jackson, Rev. Morris’s parishioners are far less tolerant than their spiritual leader.

“A Date With Patti Pleezmi” by Chuck Rothman is about starting over, escaping one’s past. What’s the best way to deal with a humiliating experience? Do you try to pretend it never happened, always dreading that your secret will be revealed? Tricia Mahaffey, devastated when her jerk of a boyfriend secretly records their lovemaking and then turns it into a popular interactive virtual reality experience, has become a bartender on the moon. Like most of the rough miners she serves, she wants only to be left alone, her past forgotten. Then Reid Eberhardt, the ex-boyfriend, shows up in her bar.

The thick-headed lout still doesn’t get it—he thinks Tricia should be grateful that he turned her into a porno queen. Now he’s looking for independent markets for virtual reality booths. He wants to install a couple in Tricia’s bar. Over Tricia’s objections, he leaves her a demo machine when she throws him out. Curious despite her anger, Tricia activates the demo and discovers an unexpected ally in the computerized version of herself.

I’m reminded of the old joke which says it’s okay to talk to yourself, because you need to talk to someone intelligent once in a while. Despite initial misgivings, Tricia discovers that she gives herself very good advice.

I’ll skip over “Shoresteading” by David Brin, since it’s a serial. I will say that the part I read was quite intriguing.

And now, for your edification and amusement, we have “The Rings of Ragnaran” by J. Simon. Without clear communication, the best of intentions may prove as disastrous as pure evil. This lighthearted farce about accidental interstellar warfare includes a broad cast of characters. There are the space lizards, who forcefully spread their words of love and peace in a manner that tends to annihilate their prospective allies. There are the sentient fungi, who have little affection for animal life, but are willing to tolerate it while waiting for it to die and become food. The group-mind butterflies of Ragnaran are particularly intriguing, their only “weapon” their prettiness. “Well, that and the ruins of the ancient civilization [they’re] perched on, which has the power to destroy all life in the universe.” And we mustn’t overlook the crab people, who seem to be some sort of peacekeeping force, only marginally more sensible than the others.

Alas, in their misunderstanding of the others’ intentions, the butterflies have reactivated the dread Vyygor, “part machine and part madness, powered by the pulsing heart of a black hole.” The Vyygor has wiped out all life in the universe a couple of times, all in the name of bringing peace, and it seems poised to repeat the performance.

I don’t know that this asks or answers any questions of universal importance, but it’s fun to read.

“First Rites” by Nancy Kress covers the background story and brief life of Cixin, a product of illegal, experimental gene manipulation gone wrong. Cixin’s mother, Haihong, is a Chinese student studying in the United States. A friend persuades her to become a surrogate mother through an obscure Mexican clinic that is secretly trying to develop superior soldiers. Haihong’s American-born cousin, Ben Malloy, a geneticist, becomes suspicious when she reveals her pregnancy and does some research on his own. Concluding that this child is potentially at risk, and that it appears Haihong has decided, like many surrogates, to keep her child, he gets her to let him do some testing. The results are frightening; the child’s brain modifications are likely to kill him or at least make him a living vegetable. Ben comes up with a medication that will potentially keep Cixin functional, intending it only as a temporary measure. But Haihong bolts, taking an initial supply of the medicine with her as she flees to China, hiding out in a remote village with her old nurse. Ben sees to it that the clinic is put out of business and the experimenters jailed, but keeps Haihong’s secret, sending her a regular supply of the medication for Cixin. When Haihong dies in a traffic accident, Ben travels to China to meet the boy and reluctantly agrees to bring him to the United States.

All of the characters in this story are well drawn, and it’s easy to get caught up in the drama of their lives. I especially liked Cixin, despite many behavioral problems presumably brought on by the medication that keeps him alive.

“The Mudlark” by Pat Cadigan is one of those stories that has the reader wondering just what’s going on, or so it seemed to me. I was left in a state of confusion, perhaps to match that of the character whose mother goes missing on a trip to England,but appears occasionally under strange circumstances.

An 87-year-old American tourist vanishes from the British Museum. Her frantic daughter, impatient with the police, goes out looking on her own, and discovers her mother mudlarking on the bank of the Thames. If, like me, you’re unfamiliar with the term “mudlarking,” consider it a variant of beachcombing. The mother, apparently unconcerned that her daughter has been looking for her for ten days, tells her to go away and mind her own business. But the daughter can’t just walk away. There are clues, and the dutiful daughter follows them to the best of her ability, even though each just leads to more mystery. ‘Tis a puzzlement, but it’s kind of interesting following the daughter around as she tries to make sense of it all.

“Soul Survivor” by Matthew Joseph Harrington is a ghost story, a love story, and the tale of a man who marches to a different drummer and his fight against the forces who try to control him. The unflappable hero of this saga is Kevin Ridler, a veteran and the sole survivor of the famous Lost Division. His body was badly damaged by the enemy bombs that destroyed all the others, or more precisely by the tank that shielded him from the bombs, but crushed part of his body. But he’s been put back together, more or less, and he’s independently wealthy because all of the division had named each other as the beneficiaries of their insurance.

Kevin uses part of his funds to purchase a piece of property that has been a private estate, a hotel, a boarding school, and a paramilitary training camp. But he runs into complications—the property is haunted. He treats the ghosts, except for a few murderous ones, with gentle compassion. Invading humans, including predatory newshounds, paranormal researchers, and a greedy psychiatrist, are not treated as kindly.

The author gets in plenty of commentary about the news media, government in general, politicians in particular, taxes, the medical establishment, paranormal researchers, and an assortment of greedy opportunists. He also displays, through Kevin, a broad knowledge of weaponry, chemical warfare, and construction procedures. Loved the “better mousetraps.” It’s a fascinating story, fast-paced and filled with wry humor. As for our hero, Kevin, he’s intelligent, kind, capable, honest, and an all-round nice guy, but definitely no pushover.

In the “classic” category is “Pretty Quadroon” by Charles Fontenay. A timely story when it appeared in If magazine in 1957, the story still has plenty to say. Some of the language and opinions expressed wouldn’t be considered “politically correct” nowadays, so those of you who are offended by Mark Twain’s use of the “N word” in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn might want to skip this one.

In a plausible response to court-ordered school desegregation in the South, the Second War for Southern Independence, also known as The Second Rebellion, is in full swing while Russia stands by waiting to take advantage of a weak and divided country. General Beauregard Courtney is in command for the South, fighting a war that, by common agreement, has so far avoided the use of missiles and nuclear bombs.

Enter an African man, Adjaha, who convinces Beauregard’s quadroon mistress, Piquette, that he can stop the war by changing the past. It seems that Beauregard was actually the pivotal point, the man whose impassioned speech led inevitably to the war—and his reasons had a lot to do with his feelings for Piquette coupled with “white pride.”

Does a clone have a soul or is it just an animated thing? Is your “soul” actually part of your DNA, subject to potential destruction by gene modification? Who has the right to determine what constitutes “racial purity” and enforce those standards? If you don’t conform to the standards, are you non-human and therefore expendable? These and other issues of heresy and orthodoxy are examined in “Homo Sylvanus” by Amber D. Sistla.

Under the rules of Ecclesia, the Church-government of Divine Humanity, gene modifications for longevity are acceptable—but some people are resistant to the therapy, and overriding that resistance can destroy the “soul” sequence of one’s DNA. Brennan Candler, the esteemed botageneticist, is doomed to die relatively young—as, so it seems, is his daughter, Tamsyn.

What Brennan doesn’t realize until it’s too late, is that his wife, Jyotica, had herself cloned rather than bearing a child with his potentially defective genes. And the young clergywoman, Abra Taylor, who pretends to risk all to help him save Tamsyn, has actually set him up, using information she got from him to perform illegal, experimental gene modifications on Tamsyn and a great many children bound for a colony pledged to maintaining genetic purity for 500 years. Things get pretty exciting when the colonists learn of the modifications and have to decide what to do with all those babies as well as Tamsyn. Are the babies human, or abominations? Will they purge the impure from their midst, or will Tamsyn, who seems to be a resourceful and compassionate young woman whatever her genetic makeup, thwart their plans?

An interesting tale of love and betrayal, of rigid orthodoxy versus tolerance and acceptance. The self-designated enforcers of conformity are always among us.

“Russian Roulette” by Simon Horvat is short and sweet, and I can’t say too much without spoiling the ending. Just consider the dilemma of a person with well-developed precognition, looking ahead to all his possible futures, watching the love of his life dying, and his lonely life after. “Sometimes I see myself, seeing myself, seeing our future together.”

Want to see the future? Savor the day, and be glad the rest comes as a surprise.