Thursday, October 16, 1997
‘Headcrash’s’ bland plot twists hardly a mindbending journey
BOOK: Credit due for author Bethke’s science-fiction world
creation deducted because of cliched action
By Christopher Bates
Daily Bruin Contributor
The cover of Bruce Bethke’s "Headcrash" touts the book as having
won the Philip K. Dick Award. Who knows who hands out Dicks, when
Dicks are given or what it means to win a Dick? A search of the
internet yields no clues. Nevertheless, at times, the book seems
worthy of an award. Other times the reader is left wondering how
Bethke could possibly have been given a Dick.
By definition, science fiction writers face a task that is
different than that of most authors. Most works of fiction are set
in a time and place where, excepting local variations, the details
of existence are known. The author need not create a world – it
already exists. His task is simply to create a plot within the
setting he has chosen.
Authors in the science fiction genre, on the other hand, do not
operate under this constraint. Not only do they get to create a
plot, they get to create the world it takes place in. It seems
reasonable, then, to judge a work of science fiction both by the
world the author creates and then the story that they tell.
Any kudos that are to be extended to Bethke are for the world he
creates. In 2005, the year in which the novel takes place,
existence is dominated by two powerful entities; the government and
business. To escape them, the average Joe can submerse himself in
Virtual Reality on the Infobahn, a souped-up version of the
Internet. Even the lowliest member of the corporate order can be a
king on the Infobahn.
The evolution of the internet is just one of the ways in which
Bethke draws on the present in order to give reference points in
his future. Sometimes, the connections that Bethke makes to the
present can be very amusing. For example, the reader is given an
account of the computer fruit wars, in which upstarts such as the
Banana(TM), the Orange(TM) and the Lemon(TM) challenge Apple for
its market share. All four are eventually toppled by the
Guava(TM).
Bethke also manages to come up with a few pithy bits of
cyber-wisdom, such as "Forget diamonds, chum. It’s e-mail that’s
forever," or "Everything about UNIX sounds silly. We’re talking
about an OS with commands like chown, awk, and grep here and where
‘zombie children floating in the pipe’ is a legitimate description
of an error state."
On occasion, however, Bethke’s humor gets thin. In particular,
he frequently relies on cheap puns, such as his play on the word
cyberpunk. There are no ordinary cyberpunks in the world of 2005,
instead you have such things as middle-eastern khyberpunks, nitrous
oxide-addicted cryopunks, pathologically addicted puzzle solvers
known as cipherpunks and, finally, a splinter faction of radicals
ideologically committed to the promulgation of fruit-based
beverages. This last group is called, you guessed it, ciderpunks.
You can practically hear the rim shots in the background.
Cheesy humor is not the main problem with this book, however.
No, that honor goes to the plot, where Bethke makes absolutely
certain to leave no cliche unturned.
The action in the novel centers on Jack Burroughs (Presumably a
nod by Bethke to beat writers Jack Kerouac and William S.
Burroughs). Burroughs is a brilliant young programmer who finds
himself (surprise!) trapped in a corporate world run by a bunch of
incompetent and unimaginative people, who just don’t understand
technology. In another highly innovative plot twist, Burroughs
escapes his forced loserdom on the Infobahn. In the virtual world,
Burroughs is a stud of epic proportions, an information warrior
named MAX_KOOL who takes no prisoners.
The cliches continue as the plot unfolds. Burroughs is fired
from his job, but lands on his feet when a drop-dead gorgeous woman
in virtual reality offers him a freelance job. His mission, should
he choose to accept it, is to steal some files from his old
employer. If he is successful, he will be granted great riches.
There is so little plot that to go any further might risk giving
everything away. Suffice it to say that it seems that Bethke could
use a primer course in literary devices. For example, he needs to
learn that it is poor writing to create suspense by withholding
information. Frequently, Bethke gets around to telling the reader
that some plot event was unusual and significant two or three
chapters after it happened. This is his world, and it is his job to
keep the reader informed.
Another annoyance that Bethke could dispense with is false
dramatics. After Burroughs’ boss is fired, he tells us, "I never
saw Hassan alive again." The reader is left waiting to find out
what horrible fate befalls Hassan, who never actually makes another
appearance in the book, alive or dead.
This book could have been a dramatic tour-de-force, a 21st
century tip of the virtual hat to Dashiell Hammett and Raymond
Chandler. Or it could have been a wry commentary on the world we
live in, a reality that is increasingly driven by collections of
ones and zeroes. "Headcrash" tries to be both things, however, and
in the end does not really succeed in being either.
This is not to say that the book should be dispensed with
entirely. Just because the ride itself is a bore doesn’t mean that
one can’t enjoy the scenery.