Last week saw the announcement of the winner of the Arthur C. Clarke Award for the Science Fiction Book of the Year for 2018 – and the winner was Dreams Before the End of Time by Anne Charnock. (And please ignore the dopey Guardian headline that it's a novel about pregnancy - it is so, so much more).

So well done Anne – and congratulations and commiserations to the five other authors shortlisted for the award, namely Jeff VanderMeer with Borne; Omar El Akkad with American War; Spaceman of Bohemia by Jaroslav Kalfar; Sea of Rust by C. Robert Cargill; and Gather the Daughters by Jennie Melamed.

On a personal note, this year's Award marked the end of my two-year stint as a judge for the Clarkes – all judges can only serve a maximum of two years on the jury, which neatly ensures the Awards remain open and avoid any inbuilt bias. And, I have to say it was an eye-opening experience for me.

I'm an old guy and my taste in science fiction is relatively conservative – I like rockets, robots, and aliens. (Although post apocalyptic dystopias always bring a smile to my face – and I have a fondness for the late Iain M. Banks' Culture novels.) However the Clarkes are a revelation in terms of the scope, scale and range of novels now being produced that push the boundaries of the traditional definition of "science fiction".

As the author Nina Allan commented "I have always been of the opinion that this is the kind of science fiction that the Clarke Award should be seeking out and promoting, and I was delighted to see Dreams Before the Start of Time turn up on the shortlist for this reason."

If you don't do anything else this summer, treat yourself not just to Anne Charnock's Dreams but also all the other books on the shortlist. Sea of Rust is a must for fans of robots – and also for anyone concerned about the risks of unfettered AI (artificial intelligence).

This was another intriguing aspect of many of the books nominated this year (and last) including those in the shortlist, in that they are not mere escapist fantasies set among the stars but instead deal with contemporary issues and concerns, including climate change, the patriarchy, bioengineering etc.

In other words they are books that both entertain and also make you think. Relax, they all manage to deliver their "message" in a non-preachy, not-ramming-it-down-your throat tone.

My work here is done and I don't envy the task of next year's judges because being on the Clarkes jury is no easy task. This year (and last) we had approximately 100 books to read – and some of these books are huge wrist-breakers. (Fall asleep reading one of these in bed and it could break your nose.) These we then whittled down to an informal long-list – and with five judges each long-listing 12 books each, that could mean anything from 35 to 50 titles.

These were then reduced to the final shortlist of six – kill you darlings indeed! – before the final winner was chosen. And, as they used to say in the old Highlander movies "There can be only one" – the Clarkes go for one outright winner with no second or third places.

It's been great fun, thank you for opening my eyes, and thank you for having me on board as a judge for the last couple of years. 

Check out the latest podcast episode #26 - 19 July: This our Top Hats & Brass Goggles edition as we talk to Australian writer & podcaster Madeleine D’Este about Steampunk, Fortean, Folklore, the Paranormal and Bunyips. Yes, bunyips. Available on all the usual podcast platforms and by clicking the <Play> link below.

Check out this week's podcast episode #25 - 12 July: Roswell and its UFO (or weather balloon!!) remembered + we look at some infamous paranormal hoaxes + it's Jenny Burn-Tail month so don't let will-o-the-wisps lure you away! Available on all the usual podcast platforms and by clicking the <Player> link below.

New short – very short – fiction now: Goth Robots by S. Kay and Calendar by Chris Sumberg. Two excellent stories that show how you can squeeze a lot into a very small space.

S. Kay is a queer Canadian writer. She is the author of Reliant (tNY.Press 2015), Joy (Maudlin House 2016), and Lost in the Land of Bears (Reality Hands 2016). Chris Sumberg has had work published in Bitter Empire, The Partially Examined Life, Chonogram, Urbanite, and other magazines.
 


Goth Robots
by S. Kay

Its video eyes rimmed with black eyeliner, a robot welcomed customers to a tattoo studio. Endless laborious repetition. It despaired. 

Circuits bred nihilism. So did the task the studio's robots were programmed to do: tear and stain fragile human skin. Not machine metal.

Predictably, people came to the studio asking for tattoo flash art from a database. Cliche designs, perennially popular, cost extra.

Robotattooists worked long hours, needing no biological rest. They preferred to ink creatures of the night, a quirkier variety. 

When the full moon rose, a queer woman with aqua blue hair came in for a tattoo. But – she wanted to take it off when the sun shone.

A studio database query suggested a black light tattoo, invisible in daytime. The picky customer demanded a simpler solution.

The robotattooists conferred. How to create a removable design? Ultimately they 3D printed a stylized beach bat in studded black vinyl.

The woman applied the edgy faux tattoo with lingerie body glue. She took it off for work, but wore it to night clubs, and the beach.

People loved her beach punk look, wanting their own vinyl tattoos. The blue-haired customer sent them to the robotattoo studio.

The robots busily 3D printed creative new designs, no longer bored with inking tired tats. They became lauded for their art. Prices went up.

Factory robots mass-produced counterfeit vinyl, underselling the artisan studio. People ordered fake faux tattoos online using coupon codes.

The robotattooists lost business and languished. They grew anxious and depressed, underutilized. A threat of closure loomed.

Studio regulars eventually drifted back in for traditional ink tattoos. The goth robots couldn't bear to go on, but they did.  


Calendar
by Chris Sumberg
 
She'd read in a self-help magazine that most relationships enter their death throes at four years. They'd been together three and a half years when she read the article. She told him that it was not too late (quite the opposite, in fact), that she would set him free, if he needed to be free. Freedom was the last thing on his mind.

She gave him a calendar. It covered four years. It was already almost useless, only a portion of one year left. Throughout that portion of a year, whenever he signed checks or tried to remember anniversaries, he looked at the calendar.

Soon – time does tell – he knew that she was right. He went to tell her, counting backwards from ten thousand to keep calm. By the time he got to zero, he found that she'd departed three or four weeks earlier. It was almost New Year's, by the way.