Robert Reed is one of the best and most prolific writers of short science fiction of the past decade, possible the very best. At the end of each year a half-dozen of his stories make various "recommended reading" lists, and at least one of them makes both the "Best of the Year" anthologies and the final award ballots. But he does not seem to be as well known as some equally-talented-or even less-talented-peers-and that seems to be primarily because his strength lies in short fiction rather than in novels. And while his novels generally earn good reviews, they do not garner the type of consistent praise that his short fiction does.

So I was very happy recently when Golden Gryphon Press published a collection of several of his best pieces of short fiction entitled The Dragons of Springplace. Yes, it's a small press production, but that's the fate of almost all single-author collections nowadays. And with the proliferation of internet book-buying, small press volumes are just as easy to buy as mass market volumes. And, at least in this case, well-worth spending the money on.

The book contains 11 stories, 7 novelettes/novellas and 4 short stories, and not one of them is less than outstanding. "Waging Good" is a very powerful story about how rich, powerful countries devastate their enemies in wars, then condescend to provide minimal aid in rehabilitation. [Sounds a bit like Kosovo, eh?] In this case the far side of the moon was one of the few portions of the solar system unaffected by a devastating nuclear war which virtually destroyed the Earth. The government then sentenced convicted criminals to serve three-year terms aiding the Terrans still surviving on the ravaged planet. When a rich, spoiled girl is caught in a thrill crime, she is sentenced to Earth while her accomplices escape untouched. Her time on Earth is spent learning to care for the poor, innocent descendants of the warmongers while simultaneously learning to hate the rich, uncaring Farsiders and plotting her revenge on them.. This is a strong, award-worthy story about war and revenge, rich and poor, love and hate. It was placed so early in the book though that I wondered how Reed could possibly top it later on.

"Utility Man" is the story which, when I originally read it, really made me sit up and notice Robert Reed for the first time. I wondered if the story would still hold up after nearly a decade, and I was pleasantly surprised that it is indeed a small masterpiece of its type. The story's protagonist Miller is a classic misfit: college-educated, although slightly short of a degree, but stuck working in a factory with mostly uneducated, ill-bred fellow workers. While they spend their free time playing cards and sharing crude stories, he sits in the corner reading books. Besides having no interest in their company, almost visibly looking down his nose at them, he is also an introverted loner unable to mingle and "shoot the breeze" even if he were so inclined to do so. And, of course, the other workers are unable to leave Miller alone, but use him as the butt of their jokes, invariably driving him even farther and farther into his pariahhood.

My immediate impression was that Miller seemed the stereotypical science fiction fan, not too far from my own personality. Could he also be a personification of Reed himself? Anyway, a race of wise, benevolent, highly-advanced aliens called Cetians have come to Earth to study humans and in the process decide what gifts they can give us to improve our lives with minimal disruption. And the way they have chosen to study humanity is to become part of it. Join in human affairs, work with us, eat with us, laugh with us. So when a Cetian comes to Miller's factory, he naturally assumes that a representative of such an advanced race will have little in common with the uneducated, largely boorish workers there, with one single exception, of course. Miller himself.

The story takes place within a single day and manages in that short time to display Miller's personal shortcomings, his dreams of comraderie with the alien, and his forced attempts to form a bond with it. But what Miller did not realize is that such an advanced race would not be content to study humanity from the "outside looking in". Rather the Cetians take the maxim "When in Rome do as the Romans do" to its logical translation "When in a factory become a factory worker." This is a very moving, thoughtful story indeed.
 

"Guest of Honor" is a story that actually brings back some frustrating memories. In my 25 years of writing science fiction, one of my novels was entitled Day Aleph Zero and it examined the ultimate frustration of immortality, how endless repetition must eventually bring boredom and depression with life. Obviously Reed handles that theme much better than I ever did in this story of the cloned child of sixty-four immortals who is sent on an interstellar mission that they fear to undertake because immortals, with endless life looming ahead of them, are too frightened to engage in any risks in their lives at all. So now she has returned to share her memories with them in a way that is both intriguing and gruesome.

The heart of the book is three novellas that are each set on a generation ship. All three are totally unrelated and completely different in structure and intent, which raises some interesting questions about what thoughts might float around Reed's head when he is daydreaming.

"Chrysalis" is basically a mystery set aboard a kilometers' long ship containing the last surviving remnants of humanity who fled the solar system on the eve of cataclysmic war. To protect themselves from their own human weaknesses, the designers of the ship created Artisans, immortal robots intended to protect and guide the surviving humans in the ultimate benevolent dictatorship.

The story is set one million years later when a team of genetically-enhanced human teenagers under the leadership of an Artisan sets out on an exploratory mission to a small ice-bound world. Primitive forms of life are discovered beneath the planet's icy surface, and when a probe is sent down deep to look further, it not only finds humanlike DNA but also obvious signs of underwater farming!

While "Chrysalis" is a strong mystery, it also raises thought-provoking questions about the nature of the Artisans' care of the humans reminiscent of Jack Williamsons' robots nearly sixty years ago in "With Folded Hands..."

My favorite story in the book-perhaps my favorite Robert Reed story ever-is "The Remoras". How to describe this story? Imagine if Donald Trump decided one day to visit the most rundown, dangerous section of the South Bronx and make a considerable contribution to several disease-ridden drug addicts. How would they treat him in response? Would they be thankful for his largesse? Or view him with scorn as just another slumming bleeding heart liberal willing to give a small token gift to downtrodden people but not devote any necessary time and caring if such people are to truly survive?

Now in some ways "The Remoras" is not really about that scenario at all, but in other ways that is precisely its theme. It is set on an incredibly-huge generation ship which was originally an ancient artifact of a long-vanished advanced race but has been converted into a galaxy-spanning cruiser taking thousands of years to complete its journey and able to hold "hundreds of billions" of humans and aliens. The story is told from the point of view of Quee Lee, a rich socialite who undertook the cruise to ease some of the boredom of immortality. Through a series of incidents she encounters a Remora, one of the former-humans who live outside the hull and spend their lives maintaining the surface of the ship to protect its interior and all its other inhabitants. The Remoras are the bottom of the ship's social ladder, but yet they have attempted to adopt a spiritual way of life that revels in their degradation so that they actually look down on beings generally considered their social betters.

Quee Lee tries to help the Remora, but also becomes so fascinated with them as a race and with him in particular, that she returns to the hull again to indulge in the Remoran lifestyle as much as possible. When one of them offers to temporarily "turn her into a Remora," let her experience their lifestyle as fully as possible, she accepts eagerly. Thus she begins an experience which opens her eyes to the true depths of how different peoples can be on different ends of the social spectrum. This story demonstrates Reed's understanding of humanity, of the heart and soul of people, moreso than any other story of his that I have read to date. It was a Hugo-Award nominee which, alas, was not a winner. But I still recommend it very highly indeed.

"Aeon's Child" is a mystery with overtones straight out of one of Olaf Stapledon's cosmic fantasies. Pamir is one of a generation ship's captains- apparently a fairly low rank since his peers wonder why he has not achieved higher-whose duties include interviewing newcomers to the ship to determine if they are worthy of staying onboard. Two such arrivees form the basis of the story. Centuries ago came the Child, a Gaea-like world-being who has been reduced to childish stature, but with powers that Pamir realizes might prove worthwhile to the ship. So he hides the Child deep in the bowels of the ship and spends the centuries as its only friend.

Until the arrival of Samara-the Monster-who for some mysterious reason is seeking the Child and knows it is hidden onboard the ship. So a power struggle begins between the powerful Samara on one hand and Pamir and the Child on the other. It soon becomes apparent that Samara is also a Gaean but one who claims to be the hero of the story while naming the Child as the villain. But Pamir has been deeply in love with the Child for so long, and has listened to its tales for so long, that on one level he is unable to believe Samir while a deeper part of him begins to wonder. This story is more evidence of Reed's depth as a writer because he successfully combines a mystery with an action thriller and a thoughtful philosophical emphasis.

I recommend this book very highly indeed.