Shapers: Part Two of Ashen Venema’s Mythical Odyssey

I’ve been reading Ashen Venema’s Course of Mirrors blog for over 10 years now, and in that time, she’s shown remarkable reselience and steadfastness, sharing essays, poetry, photography; recollections, insight, learning; humor, pathos, teaching – all the while working on a major work, which might become a trilogy (along the lines of Dune, Rings, Star Wars, Potter). The first part, a novel titled “Course of Mirrors: an Odyssey,” I reviewed in June 2017. Its sequel, titled “Shapers,” is now out. I purchased an ebook version via Amazon. A paperback version is also now available via Amazon US and other channels. Both books were published by Troubador.

If you’re looking for a quick read, “Shapers” is not it. Its 360 pages are dense with encyclopedic-like entries that explain the far-out world readers must navigate. At the same time (though time is presented as protean), this new world won’t seem entirely foreign. For example, Chapter Two begins with a description of a fictional place and time that sounds uncomfortably familiar – uncomfortable if we go to fantasy to escape our real-time predicament:

Rhonda, the larger of the Western Isles, used to be an empire competing with rival powers in seizing territory around the world. Indigenous people were uprooted and traded as slaves, until colonies were gradually granted independence. Over time, migrations ensued. People left ancestral homes to seek education and work in the lands of their conquerors, including Rhonda. Traditions mingled, sparking rapid industrial and technological growth along with a moral, intellectual and spiritual freedom that promised each individual unlimited potential.

This sudden material expansion exhausted earth’s resources and caused rivers of waste flowing into oceans. Machines replaced hands, feet, eyes and even brains. Citizens with nothing meaningful to do were prone to emotional outbursts, filled prisons, or were over-medicated for stress. The ideal of freedom was like an inflated balloon. It burst into anarchy.

Rhonda concluded that freedom was dangerous. By AD 2540, a correction project had long been in operation, employing the aid of a shunned people known for their unconventional approach to science, psychology and psychic phenomena – the Shapers. As long as they left politics alone, they were granted autonomy of research and funding. Their underground dwellings and laboratories circled around air-funnels lined with mirrors, through which sunlight was reflected down. Rhonda’s rationality project seemed a success. Emotionally unstable citizens were sent to the Shaper Portal for correction. They returned relaxed. The methods through which such miracles were achieved remained unquestioned, as long as they worked.

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Myth is a fictional story used to explain something real – an event, person, thing – even if the telling incorporates unreal (fantastical, imaginary, other-worldly) tools. The theme of “Shapers” explores the human existential crisis of individual freedom that entropically devolves into chaos or extinction, versus imprisonment in some structure of rule or servitude that leaves one arguably safe from existential dread but at the cost of one’s freedom. Where myth survives as something real, believed in, its explanation is simultaneous with the culture that creates it or evolves from it, its aims, its reality. One can’t see beyond one’s own mythical circumstance. Myth helps explain the errors of one’s way, should one go astray. Some contemporary myth, like the life stopping descriptors used in modern psychology, may seem to have the aim of self-actualization, but like most New Age approaches, simply attempt to justify one’s lifestyle – to oneself; the other doesn’t matter. Myth communicates using symbol, metaphor, and a great deal of hyperbole. We can read “Shapers” as myth, and explore symbols and structure, or we can go to it for entertainment and pleasure.

Another characteristic, apart from myth, of the science fiction genre, is its tendency to waver between camp and seriousness, such that much if not all sci-fi is to so-called serious literature what the B movie is to film. In any writing, the verisimilitude of dialog quickly becomes problematic. If the setting is completely made up, how should the characters talk? How will people talk in the year 2540 – like they do today? Do people talk in paragraphs or in quips?

“I like feeling secure and comfortable, it makes for peace,” Shakur said.

“Pockets of peace, I like them too,” Oruba said. “I relax into habits, beliefs, attitudes, but all too easily fall asleep to the wavelength of universal guidance.”

Shakur frowned. “I thought a calm mind maintains that wavelength.”

“Not when creative intensity is lost, then the spiral of life falls flat and we’re stuck in a sluggish labyrinth of time, not in harmony with the ever-changing cosmos.”

“Aren’t we one with the cosmos anyway?” Shakur asked.

“Yes and no. There’s the yearning for the womblike feeling of oneness and safety, and there’s the resonance with forces that animate us. These forces make for eccentricity and difference, but when constrained for the sake of order and control, leaders become bloated with power. The more rigid the system, the more it imprisons people.”

“I get it,” Shakur said, grinning. “Leo thought he was a god and now he’s a rat.”

Oruba roared so suddenly, he dropped his plate of canapés. “He’s luckier than you imagine, he found love – he’s gone on a journey. He escaped the system.”

Mesa was not amused. “I can see how Rhonda’s system is corrupt,” she said, “and change is necessary. But Armorica is not corrupt, its people are peace-loving.” She paused. “Maybe too much, I admit… we slowed change, and with it, time.”

Forming a square with his fingers and thumbs through which he looked at his friends, Oruba said, “We observe through frames. We line up these fragments to create a composition.” He popped a quail’s egg into his mouth and chewed it slowly to relish its taste. “We continually shuffle and weave these fragments into new compositions of light. But for truly new visions to emerge we must suffer collisions. They tend to shift surfaces and expose the roots of our memory and experience. There you find the sap of life, from which spins the golden thread of intention and vision.”

“I’ll shut up for now,” Shakur said, “but I will ask you the question again.” He made a sweeping gesture at the garden. “We had a collision here, and I’m digging towards Tilly’s vision of a rose garden.” Filling up glasses, he added, “A toast to celebrate our friendship! I’ve no right words for this, other than I’m going to miss you terribly!”

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How does one travel in time? But we all do it, are doing it now. The week or day passes quickly or slowly, we think, the longest day the longest suffering. But to shift from one time to another is the provenance of sci-fi. Why time travel? To warn, to fix, to meddle? Can we look forward to a future of gourmet meals as we discuss modes of reality? The scientists seem in charge, in more ways than one. And what of the trinity? If God is three for the price of one, do we also, made in his image and likeness, share our individual reality with two others who also claim to be us? We lived once, why not again? Is once any less mysterious than twice?

Ashen Venema is both a scientist and an artist. In “Shapers,” we find her bringing the two perspectives together to view our contemporary predicament. She asks the question, What will happen given our current trajectory? The narrative of “Shapers” includes third-person omniscient and first-person diary. The technique adds diversity and interest to the writing. There are other aids provided to help the reader navigate and keep place, including glossary and cast of characters and other front matter, and 29 numbered chapters, each broken into several titled parts.

Of course, any book today may quickly pass unnoticed. Which ones should we read? Without ad campaigns, movie deals, marketing ploys – alas – the challenges become surreal. But a book review might help. If you’ve read this far into this one, your next move should be to get Ashen’s “Shapers” and join the fun. It might be noted that English is not Ashen’s native language. This is a strength for someone traveling to distant worlds and conversing with diverse cultures. And she is a scientist only if psychology is a science. Psychology experiments with and explores inner worlds; the other scientists explore and tinker with outer worlds; the artist brings the two together in a single view. All of which, in a recipe of fiction, makes for good reading.

Don’t Try This at Home

One should not time travel, nor play or work with the gods, unless fully qualified and experienced. One should live in one’s own moment, in one’s ongoing present, which is fully developed and capable of satisfying all one’s present needs. The reason we are unable to travel forward, into the future (with the exception of being able to travel forward to the future present we were in when we exited to travel into the past), is that the future consists of too many variables, too many possibilities, too many uncertainties – and no way of managing the risk. There’s only one door into one’s past. There is an infinite number of doors into one’s future, and picking the wrong one is almost certain, and will lead to couch surf zero. Two exceptions to one should not time travel: 1, we can still prepare for any uncertain future; and 2, we can visit the past to learn from our errors, as long as we don’t try to rewrite the past (while at the same time being mindful that we may not have understood at all what was happening when our past was present). Still, it’s also useful to remember that time is always under construction, and deconstruction, at the same time. In addition to travelling backward or forward in time, one might be inclined to want to stop time. I can often hear the click of time slow to a rest while time travelling on my 1972 Piaggio Vespa Super 150. One wants to travel through time in the slow lane of life. It should come as no surprise that by the time I made it down to San Diego to meet up with Cagetan, as we had planned, I had missed him. Apparently, Sot showed up, and he and Cagetan are presumably somewhere now travelling south through Baja. I’m not sure where that leaves me at this point in time.

“Don’t Try This at Home” is episode 45 of Inventories, a Novel in Progress in Serial Format at The Coming of the Toads.

Riding the Tide of Time

I kicked my separation bonus from Minerva over to Cagetan, enabling him to make some repairs on his van, and we planned to hook up in a few weeks down in San Diego for a trip farther south into the Baja Peninsula. In the meantime, I purchased a 1972 Piaggio Vespa Super 150, and set out for a slow cruise down Highway 1, through the beach cities along the coast. I would spend a few nights at the Moro primitive campground at Crystal Cove, between Corona Del Mar and Laguna. I wasn’t sure what year yet. The Piaggio came equipped with a Time Machine. I could move back and forth in time, though not, of course, farther than the present. Like the movement of the tides, rising and falling under the influence of the moon and other gravitational energies, the Piaggio Time Machine came with a tidal time range. I could move back in time, but only to about 1960, at which point the scooter started to overheat. I could move forward in time, but only to the present time I had exited to move backward. And I could only time travel at dawn or dusk, during the Terminator – the grey line, the Twilight Zone. Any trip in time occured like a dream. I could travel years in seconds, but once landing, the material reality was diffused, poured out in a fuzzy, bent light, a narrative broken and full of surreal images like those sometimes appearing in the desert or over the ocean in an early morning or evening, a pause in the character of the light and air. I had not gone far when I decided to stop at the Pike Amusement Zone in 1963 Long Beach, where I parked and walked down to check out the roller coaster.

“Riding the Tide of Time” is episode 44 of Inventories, a Novel in Progress in Serial Format at The Coming of the Toads.