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Cold
"So, is everyone ready for Christmas?" I looked out over the assembled faces. The small knot of children was agitated. Many nodded eagerly, but some seemed hesitant, or even nervous. I knew that part of it was being so deep inside Shelter; those from the tracts might well have been here only once or twice before. That was compounded by the noise: every time the engine revved up, some of them would jump. Even without their bare torsos and short-cropped hair it would have been easy to tell the lottery winners from those who had paid their way.
No one answered, so I pushed on. “Well then, this is the first Christmas we’ve had in three years, but you might have heard about it from your siblings or parents. Before we go in, does anyone know what to expect?”
“My mommy said it was like ice cubes all over,” said Martin. He stood at the front, with his arms crossed and chin jutting out.
I smiled and nodded. “That's not a bad way to think of it.”
A hand shot up at the back of the crowd. “Ashely?” I say, remembering the slight girl mostly by the angry scar on her shoulder.
“What's an ice cube like?”
I bit my lip. “umm, it's wet and, uhh…” I racked my brain. Ashley was one of the lottery kids, so this was probably one of the handful of times she’d been off of her parent’s tract. “It’s kind of like when you're wet and you stand outside in the wind.”
“Oh, oh, like a fwidge?” one of the others burst in.
I look over to see one of the smallest girls beaming up at me in pigtails. As daughter of the mayor, the preparations hardly fazed her. “That’s a good analogy, Claire,” I said making sure to keep a smile on my face. If Ashley doesn’t know ice, she won’t know fridges, either. “Just wait a few minutes, Ashley, You'll see yourself in just a little bit, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, in a small voice, stepping back.
Another hand went up. “Yes, Charity?”
“My Da got sick once, and we went to see him and my arms went all pricky.”
“Oh, the clinic?” That must have cost a tidy pile of chits.
“Ya!” She nodded eagerly.
I nodded. “Well, that’s cold too, and those are called goosebumps.”
She stared at me seriously before someone in the back piped up, though I missed seeing who. “What's a goose?”
I glanced at the clock. “We'll cover that in history class later.” I looked around the rest of the group. “Did anyone else have any last thoughts before we went in?”
One of the kids in front cleared his throat. I looked over to see one of the older boys regarding me with sharp eyes. “Peter?”
“My brother said that Christmas was supposed to be in December.”
I pursed my lips. “That's a complicated answer,” I said, just as the growl of the ancient engine quieted. It’d be ready any minute now. “And I'm afraid that's another thing I'll have to talk to you about later.”
I clapped my hands “Okay everyone, time to get dressed.” Peter didn't look satisfied, but held his peace as I opened up the chest and started handing out the heavy clothes: long sleeved jackets and thick pants in a riot of colors and styles.
The kids were still looking at them a little strangely, so I demonstrated by donning my own garments. The fabric was faded and brittle in places, but it still held together. “Pretend it's a coolsuit,” I said, looking at the array of shorts they wore and remembering the advice I’d heard the teacher give last time. Most of the kids were at least familiar with those.
They went on easily for the most part, aside from a sporadic litany of: ‘I can't move,’ ‘It's itchy’ and ‘this smells funny’.
I walked around the room, helping as necessary until I finally reached the far end. Peter had his pants on, but the jacket was half off, and he was examining the side panel closely. His eyes met mine as I came up to him. “Where do the lines hook up?”
“Don't worry, it’s like a coolsuit, but it’s different, too. There aren't supposed to be any lines connected, it holds your own body heat in, instead. Just put it on - you'll be grateful for it in a minute.”
I turned back to the rest of the group as the tone of the engine changed again, and I saw Bob, its operator, poke his head and give me the thumbs up. “Alright, everyone, gather at the door with me. No pushing now.”
The gaggle of children looked more nervous, but came together at my wave. Some were still half dressed, but that was okay - they'd be motivated enough once we were inside.
“Are you sure you can't take Jenna?”
The voice was hesitant, and I looked at the door to see a woman standing there, her weather-beaten face framed in the light. Below, a little girl clung tightly to her leg, like she might be blown away in a stiff breeze. The mother held out her hand and I could see a small pile of chits glinting on her palm. Blues, golds and greens - ones and tens and hundreds, but even from here I could see that there were too few of the last. I bit my lip. My own gleanings were meager enough; one of the reasons I took on this extra teaching position in the first place. But for her, as a freebroker that small handful probably represented more than a month of scrimping and saving.
I looked at her a long moment before shaking my head. “No, keep it.”
The woman’s face fell as I turned away, but I moved only as far as the chest. There, at the very bottom was another jacket. It was musty and had more holes than I cared to count, but it was better than nothing and I could hear the sharp intake of breath as I knelt to Jenna and held it out to her.
Her mother tried to press the chits on me, but I shook my head. “Keep them,” I said, feeling a sad smile tug at my lips. “Merry Christmas.”
Then I turned to the door and heaved it open. The squeal of hinges was accompanied by a blast of frigid air, and at least one of the kids shrieked. I tried not to grin at the reaction, but I couldn’t afford to waste the time and air as I ushered them into the room.
It wasn’t large, maybe twenty feet wide by thirty feet long, with sheet metal walls that covered up thick insulation. Bare lights hung from the from the ceiling, illuminating a series of displays that lined the walls. The floor was slick and wet, possibly due to a large vat of water in the corner opposite the door, the chill breeze from numerous vents making ripples on the surface. In the other corner stood a small Christmas tree, the sparkling lights almost enough to disguise its threadbare branches.
“Merry Christmas, everyone, now get in quickly, so I can shut the door.”
They filed in quickly and the door shut with a clang. The kids were getting rowdy, but it was still easy to hear the muffled roar as the engine revved back up again. Moments later, an icy wind started pouring through the vents anew.
The kids huddled together in a knot in the center of the room, then shrieked as a miniature blizzard sprayed from the vents.
I had stood well back, expecting it. “That's called snow. It's like rain that falls from the sky, but frozen.”
Actually, it was shaved ice, and Bob and I'd spent a few hours slicing it up, but they didn't need to know that.
Moments later, the ice storm had abated, and curiosity began making inroads among the kids. Some went around the edges of the room, staring at the displays, wide-eyed. Most huddled together in the middle.
As I approached this group the leader rounded on me; Mary had her lip stuck out in a pout that might have been cute if except for how her eyes were scrunched up. “Solid rain? That’s just dumb. Besides, how can it rain inside? That doesn't make any sense.” She kicked at an errant chunk of ice. “I don't like it. I'm glad they fixed it.”
I shrugged. “It’s not so bad, once you get used to it.”
Her scowl told me what she thought of that idea, and I backed off. “Well, it'll just be a little bit longer, sweetie, bear with it. You should look around and see the displays.”
Mary’s expression didn’t improve, but she kept her peace.
I pointed to the tree in the back. “See? That’s Santa Claus. If you're a good little girl, he'll make sure that the harvest is good, and that your parents are safe when they're out scouting.”
She looked at it more closely, but didn't say anything. I guess she was one of the skeptics.
Inevitably, the kids discovered snowballs, and soon the floor was slick with ice. There was a yell and a thud, and I turned to see Jenna sprawled on the ground.
“Are you okay?” I rushed over to her side.
Her close cropped hair was crusted with frost and her eyes were wide. “It was like this for half the year?” she said, breathless as I helped her sit up.
“Not exactly half, but it was supposed to have been a lot of the time, yes.”
Her face was flushed as she stared about with wide eyes.
“Jenna, is everything alright?”
She nodded, eyes bright, before pulling away to go to a different display.
More minutes passed as I watched the kids exploring. I explained the displays as best I could; things I’d remembered from my own visit as a kid, plus the additional research I’d done since. Ski shoes and Eskimos, polar bears and snowmen. Sweat beaded my brow. I was burning up in my own layers, but that was fine. If trapping my own heat in kept it cool a little longer, it'd be worth it.
Finally, the door creaked open again and Bob signaled me the time. I stood to the side, watching the kids file out. Most rushed out, but some lingered, watched closely by the next group as they waited anxiously for their turn. The club was dressed only in loincloths and carried towels, except for the chief, who also wore an ivy circlet on his brow and carried a candelabra.
Jenna was the last one out. “I'm going to make it Christmas all the time!” she said,
I gave her a hug, picking her up and swinging her around so she was out of the way of the door. The chief nodded his thanks as the club started filing in. “That’s a noble goal, but even in the old days, it wasn’t Christmas all the time.”
“Well, I’m gonna fix it!” she said, squirming in my arms before I set her down so she could join the others.
Bob came up beside me, folding his arms. “What a colossal waste.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be minding the motor?”
“Already burned up more gas than we should’ve. The club will have to make do with what we already put in.” he said, closing the door. “You really didn’t notice?”
I flushed. The difference in noise wasn’t exactly subtle. “You don’t think the kids experiencing different things is useful? What about them?” I said, nodding my head towards the door. “The two hundred degree club isn’t exactly practical, either.”
“They’ve paid their way, and there are health benefits besides. Hands on history lesson is rubbish.” He shook his head. “Burning all that energy to give them a taste of what they can't have.”
I turned to glare at him. “You're exaggerating. I know for a fact that the radiators aren't having any trouble keeping up. That was the whole reason we moved it to January in the first place.”
“I know, and if it wasn’t for that extra boost in cooling, we wouldn’t have been able to pull it off this year.” He paused, giving me another look. “The energy savings which you just blew, I might add.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don't exaggerate. One extra little girl isn’t going to make a difference. I don’t see why the lottery is so strict in the first place.”
He snorted. “That’s not for us to decide. You still have to pay her fee.”
“I know, I know.”
The next teacher arrived and I handed off the kids before heading to the locker room. I was just shrugging into my outerwear when one of the techs came in, bringing the scent of dust. I helped him with his gear, and he breathed a sigh of relief when the visor came off, but his face was drawn. “I heard about that stunt you pulled. You're going to have to make the ergs up.”
“You’ve got one of the only three portable radios, and that’s what you use it for?” I said, already calculating the extra hours in my head. There were a couple of palms in my field that looked promising. If I babied them and the weather held, I might be able to squeeze a few hundred more grams of oil out of them.
“Hard to focus on pipefitting while there’s a bunch of whiny brats prancing about in the snow.”
“I take it you didn’t like your applied history class?” I said, trying not to frown.
“You’re burning more fuel to have the right ambiance while we’re broiling out there. It’s just making things worse.”
I shook my head. “Making things worse? Maybe, but that ship has well and truly sailed. What’s a few more grams of CO2 going to matter at this point?”
He sighed as he shucked the last of his gear, standing up in his skivvies. “That’s the kind of thinking that got us into this mess. For someone who teaches a history class, I wonder about your perspective sometimes.”
“There are different types of perspective.”
He just grunted and turned for the door.
I’m glad there was no one to see my expression as I pulled on my own gear. It would have been nice if he’d stuck around long enough to lend me a hand, I thought, working out an annoying crease. The fabric chafed, but the memory of a smiling young face bubbled up, crowding it out. My ears popped as I stepped through the door opened and I grinned as I set foot into the fields. Was it just me, or did the breeze seem extra fresh today?
No one answered, so I pushed on. “Well then, this is the first Christmas we’ve had in three years, but you might have heard about it from your siblings or parents. Before we go in, does anyone know what to expect?”
“My mommy said it was like ice cubes all over,” said Martin. He stood at the front, with his arms crossed and chin jutting out.
I smiled and nodded. “That's not a bad way to think of it.”
A hand shot up at the back of the crowd. “Ashely?” I say, remembering the slight girl mostly by the angry scar on her shoulder.
“What's an ice cube like?”
I bit my lip. “umm, it's wet and, uhh…” I racked my brain. Ashley was one of the lottery kids, so this was probably one of the handful of times she’d been off of her parent’s tract. “It’s kind of like when you're wet and you stand outside in the wind.”
“Oh, oh, like a fwidge?” one of the others burst in.
I look over to see one of the smallest girls beaming up at me in pigtails. As daughter of the mayor, the preparations hardly fazed her. “That’s a good analogy, Claire,” I said making sure to keep a smile on my face. If Ashley doesn’t know ice, she won’t know fridges, either. “Just wait a few minutes, Ashley, You'll see yourself in just a little bit, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, in a small voice, stepping back.
Another hand went up. “Yes, Charity?”
“My Da got sick once, and we went to see him and my arms went all pricky.”
“Oh, the clinic?” That must have cost a tidy pile of chits.
“Ya!” She nodded eagerly.
I nodded. “Well, that’s cold too, and those are called goosebumps.”
She stared at me seriously before someone in the back piped up, though I missed seeing who. “What's a goose?”
I glanced at the clock. “We'll cover that in history class later.” I looked around the rest of the group. “Did anyone else have any last thoughts before we went in?”
One of the kids in front cleared his throat. I looked over to see one of the older boys regarding me with sharp eyes. “Peter?”
“My brother said that Christmas was supposed to be in December.”
I pursed my lips. “That's a complicated answer,” I said, just as the growl of the ancient engine quieted. It’d be ready any minute now. “And I'm afraid that's another thing I'll have to talk to you about later.”
I clapped my hands “Okay everyone, time to get dressed.” Peter didn't look satisfied, but held his peace as I opened up the chest and started handing out the heavy clothes: long sleeved jackets and thick pants in a riot of colors and styles.
The kids were still looking at them a little strangely, so I demonstrated by donning my own garments. The fabric was faded and brittle in places, but it still held together. “Pretend it's a coolsuit,” I said, looking at the array of shorts they wore and remembering the advice I’d heard the teacher give last time. Most of the kids were at least familiar with those.
They went on easily for the most part, aside from a sporadic litany of: ‘I can't move,’ ‘It's itchy’ and ‘this smells funny’.
I walked around the room, helping as necessary until I finally reached the far end. Peter had his pants on, but the jacket was half off, and he was examining the side panel closely. His eyes met mine as I came up to him. “Where do the lines hook up?”
“Don't worry, it’s like a coolsuit, but it’s different, too. There aren't supposed to be any lines connected, it holds your own body heat in, instead. Just put it on - you'll be grateful for it in a minute.”
I turned back to the rest of the group as the tone of the engine changed again, and I saw Bob, its operator, poke his head and give me the thumbs up. “Alright, everyone, gather at the door with me. No pushing now.”
The gaggle of children looked more nervous, but came together at my wave. Some were still half dressed, but that was okay - they'd be motivated enough once we were inside.
“Are you sure you can't take Jenna?”
The voice was hesitant, and I looked at the door to see a woman standing there, her weather-beaten face framed in the light. Below, a little girl clung tightly to her leg, like she might be blown away in a stiff breeze. The mother held out her hand and I could see a small pile of chits glinting on her palm. Blues, golds and greens - ones and tens and hundreds, but even from here I could see that there were too few of the last. I bit my lip. My own gleanings were meager enough; one of the reasons I took on this extra teaching position in the first place. But for her, as a freebroker that small handful probably represented more than a month of scrimping and saving.
I looked at her a long moment before shaking my head. “No, keep it.”
The woman’s face fell as I turned away, but I moved only as far as the chest. There, at the very bottom was another jacket. It was musty and had more holes than I cared to count, but it was better than nothing and I could hear the sharp intake of breath as I knelt to Jenna and held it out to her.
Her mother tried to press the chits on me, but I shook my head. “Keep them,” I said, feeling a sad smile tug at my lips. “Merry Christmas.”
Then I turned to the door and heaved it open. The squeal of hinges was accompanied by a blast of frigid air, and at least one of the kids shrieked. I tried not to grin at the reaction, but I couldn’t afford to waste the time and air as I ushered them into the room.
It wasn’t large, maybe twenty feet wide by thirty feet long, with sheet metal walls that covered up thick insulation. Bare lights hung from the from the ceiling, illuminating a series of displays that lined the walls. The floor was slick and wet, possibly due to a large vat of water in the corner opposite the door, the chill breeze from numerous vents making ripples on the surface. In the other corner stood a small Christmas tree, the sparkling lights almost enough to disguise its threadbare branches.
“Merry Christmas, everyone, now get in quickly, so I can shut the door.”
They filed in quickly and the door shut with a clang. The kids were getting rowdy, but it was still easy to hear the muffled roar as the engine revved back up again. Moments later, an icy wind started pouring through the vents anew.
The kids huddled together in a knot in the center of the room, then shrieked as a miniature blizzard sprayed from the vents.
I had stood well back, expecting it. “That's called snow. It's like rain that falls from the sky, but frozen.”
Actually, it was shaved ice, and Bob and I'd spent a few hours slicing it up, but they didn't need to know that.
Moments later, the ice storm had abated, and curiosity began making inroads among the kids. Some went around the edges of the room, staring at the displays, wide-eyed. Most huddled together in the middle.
As I approached this group the leader rounded on me; Mary had her lip stuck out in a pout that might have been cute if except for how her eyes were scrunched up. “Solid rain? That’s just dumb. Besides, how can it rain inside? That doesn't make any sense.” She kicked at an errant chunk of ice. “I don't like it. I'm glad they fixed it.”
I shrugged. “It’s not so bad, once you get used to it.”
Her scowl told me what she thought of that idea, and I backed off. “Well, it'll just be a little bit longer, sweetie, bear with it. You should look around and see the displays.”
Mary’s expression didn’t improve, but she kept her peace.
I pointed to the tree in the back. “See? That’s Santa Claus. If you're a good little girl, he'll make sure that the harvest is good, and that your parents are safe when they're out scouting.”
She looked at it more closely, but didn't say anything. I guess she was one of the skeptics.
Inevitably, the kids discovered snowballs, and soon the floor was slick with ice. There was a yell and a thud, and I turned to see Jenna sprawled on the ground.
“Are you okay?” I rushed over to her side.
Her close cropped hair was crusted with frost and her eyes were wide. “It was like this for half the year?” she said, breathless as I helped her sit up.
“Not exactly half, but it was supposed to have been a lot of the time, yes.”
Her face was flushed as she stared about with wide eyes.
“Jenna, is everything alright?”
She nodded, eyes bright, before pulling away to go to a different display.
More minutes passed as I watched the kids exploring. I explained the displays as best I could; things I’d remembered from my own visit as a kid, plus the additional research I’d done since. Ski shoes and Eskimos, polar bears and snowmen. Sweat beaded my brow. I was burning up in my own layers, but that was fine. If trapping my own heat in kept it cool a little longer, it'd be worth it.
Finally, the door creaked open again and Bob signaled me the time. I stood to the side, watching the kids file out. Most rushed out, but some lingered, watched closely by the next group as they waited anxiously for their turn. The club was dressed only in loincloths and carried towels, except for the chief, who also wore an ivy circlet on his brow and carried a candelabra.
Jenna was the last one out. “I'm going to make it Christmas all the time!” she said,
I gave her a hug, picking her up and swinging her around so she was out of the way of the door. The chief nodded his thanks as the club started filing in. “That’s a noble goal, but even in the old days, it wasn’t Christmas all the time.”
“Well, I’m gonna fix it!” she said, squirming in my arms before I set her down so she could join the others.
Bob came up beside me, folding his arms. “What a colossal waste.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be minding the motor?”
“Already burned up more gas than we should’ve. The club will have to make do with what we already put in.” he said, closing the door. “You really didn’t notice?”
I flushed. The difference in noise wasn’t exactly subtle. “You don’t think the kids experiencing different things is useful? What about them?” I said, nodding my head towards the door. “The two hundred degree club isn’t exactly practical, either.”
“They’ve paid their way, and there are health benefits besides. Hands on history lesson is rubbish.” He shook his head. “Burning all that energy to give them a taste of what they can't have.”
I turned to glare at him. “You're exaggerating. I know for a fact that the radiators aren't having any trouble keeping up. That was the whole reason we moved it to January in the first place.”
“I know, and if it wasn’t for that extra boost in cooling, we wouldn’t have been able to pull it off this year.” He paused, giving me another look. “The energy savings which you just blew, I might add.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don't exaggerate. One extra little girl isn’t going to make a difference. I don’t see why the lottery is so strict in the first place.”
He snorted. “That’s not for us to decide. You still have to pay her fee.”
“I know, I know.”
The next teacher arrived and I handed off the kids before heading to the locker room. I was just shrugging into my outerwear when one of the techs came in, bringing the scent of dust. I helped him with his gear, and he breathed a sigh of relief when the visor came off, but his face was drawn. “I heard about that stunt you pulled. You're going to have to make the ergs up.”
“You’ve got one of the only three portable radios, and that’s what you use it for?” I said, already calculating the extra hours in my head. There were a couple of palms in my field that looked promising. If I babied them and the weather held, I might be able to squeeze a few hundred more grams of oil out of them.
“Hard to focus on pipefitting while there’s a bunch of whiny brats prancing about in the snow.”
“I take it you didn’t like your applied history class?” I said, trying not to frown.
“You’re burning more fuel to have the right ambiance while we’re broiling out there. It’s just making things worse.”
I shook my head. “Making things worse? Maybe, but that ship has well and truly sailed. What’s a few more grams of CO2 going to matter at this point?”
He sighed as he shucked the last of his gear, standing up in his skivvies. “That’s the kind of thinking that got us into this mess. For someone who teaches a history class, I wonder about your perspective sometimes.”
“There are different types of perspective.”
He just grunted and turned for the door.
I’m glad there was no one to see my expression as I pulled on my own gear. It would have been nice if he’d stuck around long enough to lend me a hand, I thought, working out an annoying crease. The fabric chafed, but the memory of a smiling young face bubbled up, crowding it out. My ears popped as I stepped through the door opened and I grinned as I set foot into the fields. Was it just me, or did the breeze seem extra fresh today?
I love this one! I really like the idea, the execution, everything. I'm completely biased because I'm a sucker for future fiction, but man, I liked this one.
I'm getting a bit of a late start on my reading, and I want to start going through the stories that don't have any reviews yet. This one had zero reviews when I started, but since I've finished it I might as well give my reaction before moving on to the doe-eyed orphan entries.
Like >>Chinchillax, I think this holds together pretty well. The things that leap out at me (both positively and negatively) are small things, which suggests that this did a pretty solid job keeping me engaged. My favorite individual moment was the bizarre description of Santa Claus, which packed a lot of implications about cultural drift into a very short space. The thing I'd most like to see fixed is that for most of the story I thought their entire society lived underground (especially with the bare "Shelter" in the opening being very easy to interpret as "fallout shelter"); I assumed for most of my reading that this was drawing from the long tradition of nuclear postapocalyptic wastelands. This led me to get somewhat confused about the climate control measures and especially the farming. And while that did effectively disguise the twist (the real reason the world was that way), it felt kinda cheap. I'm not sure, honestly, that the twist made for an effective stinger, because it made this feel a little more like a political gotcha — if it had worked that reveal in earlier and more naturally it would have felt to me less like a distraction from the core drama of the story.
YMMV on that, though. Definitely get some second opinions.
It's always hard to know how to rate stories at the beginning of my slate, so I may bump this up a tier later. But the bottom line is that this holds together very well and I don't have any major critiques, which is generally a good sign that it'll stick around near the top of my ballot.
Tier: Strong
Like >>Chinchillax, I think this holds together pretty well. The things that leap out at me (both positively and negatively) are small things, which suggests that this did a pretty solid job keeping me engaged. My favorite individual moment was the bizarre description of Santa Claus, which packed a lot of implications about cultural drift into a very short space. The thing I'd most like to see fixed is that for most of the story I thought their entire society lived underground (especially with the bare "Shelter" in the opening being very easy to interpret as "fallout shelter"); I assumed for most of my reading that this was drawing from the long tradition of nuclear postapocalyptic wastelands. This led me to get somewhat confused about the climate control measures and especially the farming. And while that did effectively disguise the twist (the real reason the world was that way), it felt kinda cheap. I'm not sure, honestly, that the twist made for an effective stinger, because it made this feel a little more like a political gotcha — if it had worked that reveal in earlier and more naturally it would have felt to me less like a distraction from the core drama of the story.
YMMV on that, though. Definitely get some second opinions.
It's always hard to know how to rate stories at the beginning of my slate, so I may bump this up a tier later. But the bottom line is that this holds together very well and I don't have any major critiques, which is generally a good sign that it'll stick around near the top of my ballot.
Tier: Strong
All in all, this was a fairly decent story. I liked how it wasn't too in-your-face about how the climate had changed in the beginning, and the idea of kids having to experience Christmas for history lessons was an interesting twist on the winter mythos. I also enjoyed how things like carbon dioxide were hard to find and had to be distributed evenly in this future. It was very reminiscent of the Ray Bradbury story "All Summer in a Day", which dealt with Venusians having a brief period where the sun shone through the thick atmosphere.
That being said, the story felt somewhat crowded. There were a lot of kid characters, and it sometimes became difficult to distinguish between them. On top of that, only one of them (Jenna) really has much of an arc (wanting to make Christmas forever), making the rest of them feel somewhat superfluous. The entire third also felt a bit too long, taking lots of wordspace to essentially repeat how crappy of a world this was when it had already been implied by the beginning. It would've been more effective if it had kept to the same subtlety instead of spelling it all out, or maybe showing more of the kids' interactions within the Christmas exhibit during the middle part.
A decent story that just needs some editing on the ending and characters.
That being said, the story felt somewhat crowded. There were a lot of kid characters, and it sometimes became difficult to distinguish between them. On top of that, only one of them (Jenna) really has much of an arc (wanting to make Christmas forever), making the rest of them feel somewhat superfluous. The entire third also felt a bit too long, taking lots of wordspace to essentially repeat how crappy of a world this was when it had already been implied by the beginning. It would've been more effective if it had kept to the same subtlety instead of spelling it all out, or maybe showing more of the kids' interactions within the Christmas exhibit during the middle part.
A decent story that just needs some editing on the ending and characters.
I was immediately invested in the idea of a bunch of kids about to experience something familiar to us and rare to them. Going to second libertydude here, I was reminded of All Summer in a Day reading this, definitely in a good way,
The world building was delivered well, we got a lot of tidbits about the new society in a natural way. It demanded active attention, but was almost never difficult to follow or hard to understand. There were a couple of small exceptions, like the explanation of the snow as "rain that falls from the sky" (Do the children have a conception of rain, but not as something that falls from the sky?). The other one being Mary's "I'm glad they fixed it" response. I think she's talking about climate change preventing snow here? It's a little jarring because she's being positive a situation the reader sees as a negative, but thinking about it the new climate is just another Tuesday for her. So that one may be a feature and not a bug, but both were minor stumbles for me as I was reading the story.
The two conversations at the end felt similar, to the point where I'm not sure why it was split up that way in the first place. Both characters the narrator is talking with seem to feel more or less the same way about the history lesson, even if Bob is actively helping. Merge everything into one conversation with Bob and some of the same ground doesn't have to be retreated in both of the originals.
The world building was delivered well, we got a lot of tidbits about the new society in a natural way. It demanded active attention, but was almost never difficult to follow or hard to understand. There were a couple of small exceptions, like the explanation of the snow as "rain that falls from the sky" (Do the children have a conception of rain, but not as something that falls from the sky?). The other one being Mary's "I'm glad they fixed it" response. I think she's talking about climate change preventing snow here? It's a little jarring because she's being positive a situation the reader sees as a negative, but thinking about it the new climate is just another Tuesday for her. So that one may be a feature and not a bug, but both were minor stumbles for me as I was reading the story.
The two conversations at the end felt similar, to the point where I'm not sure why it was split up that way in the first place. Both characters the narrator is talking with seem to feel more or less the same way about the history lesson, even if Bob is actively helping. Merge everything into one conversation with Bob and some of the same ground doesn't have to be retreated in both of the originals.
Ohhhh, OK, I get the twist after reading the comments. I thought they were the 200 Kelvin club, like some kind of uber-hardcore Polar Bear dudes.
I dunno. I feel like this had a lot of near-misses with effective world building. There are bits and hints all over the place about what's going on, but IMO the teases of a more traditional post-apocalyptic scenario ultimately work against the potential impact that the protag's feelings of loss and pining (perhaps even for fjords) could have if we just knew what was going on from the beginning. There's a fine line between withholding details to hook the audience and pull them along for a mystery, and just keeping them confused and guessing in the dark. IMO this was aiming for the former but ended up being much more the latter.
The story's real strength was in the kids' reactions and in the teacher's sense of wonder for watching the kids' reactions, plus the teacher's wistfulness. IMO not much of that goes away if we know WTFIGO from the start. If anything, it would make the worker guys' reactions at the end seem a lot less jarring, and would make the teacher's feeling of "worth it" come across more strongly.
I dunno. I feel like this had a lot of near-misses with effective world building. There are bits and hints all over the place about what's going on, but IMO the teases of a more traditional post-apocalyptic scenario ultimately work against the potential impact that the protag's feelings of loss and pining (perhaps even for fjords) could have if we just knew what was going on from the beginning. There's a fine line between withholding details to hook the audience and pull them along for a mystery, and just keeping them confused and guessing in the dark. IMO this was aiming for the former but ended up being much more the latter.
The story's real strength was in the kids' reactions and in the teacher's sense of wonder for watching the kids' reactions, plus the teacher's wistfulness. IMO not much of that goes away if we know WTFIGO from the start. If anything, it would make the worker guys' reactions at the end seem a lot less jarring, and would make the teacher's feeling of "worth it" come across more strongly.
Unfortunately this story just didn't do it for me. That said, it's hard to pinpoint exactly why. Ultimately, I suppose it amounts to the fact that the three primary elements (conflict, character, world) don't really feel like they actively support each other, with each fighting for space (or, in the case of conflict, not really having much presence at all).
I think the story might benefit a bit from refocusing and really emphasizing what story it wants to tell: is this just a piece about the world, about Bob dealing with his role in the world, about the kids experiencing joy and wonder, etc?
I think the story might benefit a bit from refocusing and really emphasizing what story it wants to tell: is this just a piece about the world, about Bob dealing with his role in the world, about the kids experiencing joy and wonder, etc?
And that's how Global Warming stole Christmas, kids!
Author, please take the following with a grain of salt, because there's a pretty good chance I'm simply not in your target audience. But... There's something weird going on here, and I think it's the sort of thing that bothers me about most 'apocalypse' style stories.
For whatever reason, this story links 'Christmas' really strongly to the idea of cold and snow, and shows through the actions of the children and adults that, in a heated world, the tradition has died out outside of history books.
This is, to put it plainly, more than a little ridiculous.
It's the sort of thing that apocalypse stories tend to do, though; postulate 'x' happening, and then jump straight to 'the world is crap' - without ever bothering to fill in the bits in-between. The things that my willing suspension of disbelief tend to rely on.
I mean, I'm pretty sure Christmas and a spirit of generosity can exist in warm places. Or is Australian Christmas a lie, because they go to the beach?
And how would 'global warming apocalypse' or whatever you've got going on here destroy the Christmas spirit? Are generosity, love, and joy such flimsy things that they rely on silly furniture like snow and Santa Claus to survive?
I just can't buy it. EDIT:And you should try reading A Christmas Carol at some point. Sorry, in hindsight this looks a bit rude. I apologize. (But if you haven't read it you should, it's pretty good and influences a zillion things.)
This... really didn't work for me. I tend to be a bit of a hard sell on 'apocalypse' style stories anyways, but I had a really hard time caring about your characters on top of that. The kids mostly seemed generic, and the only 'conflict' that I could find consisted of the MC making an emotion-driven choice for...well, I'm not really sure why he did it. None of the children seemed fundamentally changed by this, not in any way that I was convinced would stick around for more than a day or three - and because of that, I really couldn't bring myself to care when the MC ran into trouble for it. Not that it really affected him anyways. He's supposedly doing an act of charity, but what's the impact on him? Take better care of a few trees, deal with a bit of nagging. Meh.
And one fairly annoying nitpick:
Ignoring the fact that it starts with a 'she' and then changes to someone else talking... if the children really don't know what a goose is, how do they know a goose is 'a thing'? It's a small assumption to make, but it drew my attention to the author and rang really hollow.
On the upside, you've slipstreamed world elements and stuff into your dialogue and descriptions fairly cleanly; I had a pretty good idea of what you were working with, I think, despite not getting any real explanations.
Author, please take the following with a grain of salt, because there's a pretty good chance I'm simply not in your target audience. But... There's something weird going on here, and I think it's the sort of thing that bothers me about most 'apocalypse' style stories.
For whatever reason, this story links 'Christmas' really strongly to the idea of cold and snow, and shows through the actions of the children and adults that, in a heated world, the tradition has died out outside of history books.
This is, to put it plainly, more than a little ridiculous.
It's the sort of thing that apocalypse stories tend to do, though; postulate 'x' happening, and then jump straight to 'the world is crap' - without ever bothering to fill in the bits in-between. The things that my willing suspension of disbelief tend to rely on.
I mean, I'm pretty sure Christmas and a spirit of generosity can exist in warm places. Or is Australian Christmas a lie, because they go to the beach?
And how would 'global warming apocalypse' or whatever you've got going on here destroy the Christmas spirit? Are generosity, love, and joy such flimsy things that they rely on silly furniture like snow and Santa Claus to survive?
I just can't buy it. EDIT:
This... really didn't work for me. I tend to be a bit of a hard sell on 'apocalypse' style stories anyways, but I had a really hard time caring about your characters on top of that. The kids mostly seemed generic, and the only 'conflict' that I could find consisted of the MC making an emotion-driven choice for...well, I'm not really sure why he did it. None of the children seemed fundamentally changed by this, not in any way that I was convinced would stick around for more than a day or three - and because of that, I really couldn't bring myself to care when the MC ran into trouble for it. Not that it really affected him anyways. He's supposedly doing an act of charity, but what's the impact on him? Take better care of a few trees, deal with a bit of nagging. Meh.
And one fairly annoying nitpick:
She stared at me seriously before someone in the back piped up, though I missed seeing who. “What's a goose?”
Ignoring the fact that it starts with a 'she' and then changes to someone else talking... if the children really don't know what a goose is, how do they know a goose is 'a thing'? It's a small assumption to make, but it drew my attention to the author and rang really hollow.
On the upside, you've slipstreamed world elements and stuff into your dialogue and descriptions fairly cleanly; I had a pretty good idea of what you were working with, I think, despite not getting any real explanations.
Cold
You have no idea how strongly tempted I was to name the town 'Gardez' instead of 'Shelter', but I was afraid it would clash with the mood too much. At least I finally broke my ribbon streak, albeit with a torch instead of a bit of shiny.
Although I'd been missing participating in the writeoffs, I hadn't particularly planned to enter this round, but then the prompt dropped and this sprang to mind almost immediately. Some of you may know that I'm writing a novel based in a global warming scenario. This isn't explicitly set in that world, but it could be. So I was a little worried that using that idea would be too much of an author identity giveaway, but ultimately I gave in to my muse.
The writing process was unlike my usual style; I'm generally an outliner, but this was very much discovery written. As I played around with the core idea, I went back and forth reflexively adding and removing pieces and characters on the fly. I think it helps the piece feel a bit more organic in some sense, but there are definitely things I threw in because they felt right in the moment, that need revision, many of which were touched on in the reviews.
Hopefully the lower rankings were for such story flaws and not the content; It really bothers me how the science around global warming has become politicized. Granted, the scenario presented in the story is at the upper end of projected scenarios, but it's still not outside the realm of possibility.
Despite its flaws, I was glad to see it resonate with some readers. It was interesting to see the division between the comments, though; some felt that it was subtle, while it rubbed others the wrong way. Even when it didn't work for a reader, though, it was useful to see how and why.
I was excited to finally get a solid out of >>horizon. Now I can someday hope for Top Contender.
I had read All Summer in a Day, but not recently. On re-reading it, although the root concept hits some of the same notes, I don't have the depth of character conflict that All Summer has. Good inspiration, there. >>libertydude, you also have some good points on the proliferation of kids; I had that inkling when I was writing the piece, but I didn't have the time and energy to find a better way. Also, >>Windfox, you have an equally good point about the parallels in the end conversations.
>>Not_A_Hat, I really respect you as a writer, but we do seem to be operating on different wavelengths here.
Of course it's possible to celebrate a holiday about love and generosity in the heat. But does that holiday intrinsically have to be Christmas? I don't see why. The idea of the meaning of Christmas drifting and becoming conflated with winter/cold didn't even make me blink. I consider holidays as plastic and reflective of the cultures they're in; how many holidays have died, been born, or had their meanings change over the years?
Anyhow, I do appreciate all the thoughts and feedback. This is one I'm seriously thinking about revamping and actually doing something with.
You have no idea how strongly tempted I was to name the town 'Gardez' instead of 'Shelter', but I was afraid it would clash with the mood too much. At least I finally broke my ribbon streak, albeit with a torch instead of a bit of shiny.
Although I'd been missing participating in the writeoffs, I hadn't particularly planned to enter this round, but then the prompt dropped and this sprang to mind almost immediately. Some of you may know that I'm writing a novel based in a global warming scenario. This isn't explicitly set in that world, but it could be. So I was a little worried that using that idea would be too much of an author identity giveaway, but ultimately I gave in to my muse.
The writing process was unlike my usual style; I'm generally an outliner, but this was very much discovery written. As I played around with the core idea, I went back and forth reflexively adding and removing pieces and characters on the fly. I think it helps the piece feel a bit more organic in some sense, but there are definitely things I threw in because they felt right in the moment, that need revision, many of which were touched on in the reviews.
Hopefully the lower rankings were for such story flaws and not the content; It really bothers me how the science around global warming has become politicized. Granted, the scenario presented in the story is at the upper end of projected scenarios, but it's still not outside the realm of possibility.
Despite its flaws, I was glad to see it resonate with some readers. It was interesting to see the division between the comments, though; some felt that it was subtle, while it rubbed others the wrong way. Even when it didn't work for a reader, though, it was useful to see how and why.
I was excited to finally get a solid out of >>horizon. Now I can someday hope for Top Contender.
I had read All Summer in a Day, but not recently. On re-reading it, although the root concept hits some of the same notes, I don't have the depth of character conflict that All Summer has. Good inspiration, there. >>libertydude, you also have some good points on the proliferation of kids; I had that inkling when I was writing the piece, but I didn't have the time and energy to find a better way. Also, >>Windfox, you have an equally good point about the parallels in the end conversations.
>>Not_A_Hat, I really respect you as a writer, but we do seem to be operating on different wavelengths here.
Of course it's possible to celebrate a holiday about love and generosity in the heat. But does that holiday intrinsically have to be Christmas? I don't see why. The idea of the meaning of Christmas drifting and becoming conflated with winter/cold didn't even make me blink. I consider holidays as plastic and reflective of the cultures they're in; how many holidays have died, been born, or had their meanings change over the years?
Anyhow, I do appreciate all the thoughts and feedback. This is one I'm seriously thinking about revamping and actually doing something with.
>>Ratlab
As I noted, tiering is always kinda weird for the first stories I read in a round — especially with Solids and TCs, because I have to be conservative with the TC designation in case I run across stories I love later on; I don't want to lowball my Top Contender threshold and end up giving the highest rank out to half the ballot.
(I made a similar first-story mis-assessment many rounds back and ended up retroactively downgrading a story a tier. That was stupid of me, and understandably caused some hurt feelings. I've erred on the side of under-ranking since.)
But with the benefit of hindsight, I ranked Cold 3rd out of all 16 stories I judged in the round, which means I'm happy to give you the official upgrade the story deserved. ("TC" roughly means "I think this is medalist quality".) So keep up the great work! :twilightsmile:
Tier: Top Contender
As I noted, tiering is always kinda weird for the first stories I read in a round — especially with Solids and TCs, because I have to be conservative with the TC designation in case I run across stories I love later on; I don't want to lowball my Top Contender threshold and end up giving the highest rank out to half the ballot.
(I made a similar first-story mis-assessment many rounds back and ended up retroactively downgrading a story a tier. That was stupid of me, and understandably caused some hurt feelings. I've erred on the side of under-ranking since.)
But with the benefit of hindsight, I ranked Cold 3rd out of all 16 stories I judged in the round, which means I'm happy to give you the official upgrade the story deserved. ("TC" roughly means "I think this is medalist quality".) So keep up the great work! :twilightsmile:
Tier: Top Contender
>>Not_A_Hat
No worries. I'll admit that the Christmas Carol comment raised an eyebrow, but more out of a sense of confusion (firstly the likelihood of any reasonably literate person in western culture managing to avoid it, but also not seeing any similarities between the two, I'm not sure how knowing Christmas Carol would have made Cold better or worse; it just came off as a non-sequitur).
Comments are always useful. The story does seem to have touched a nerve, which is actually good, as it's supposed to be a little provocative. It seems like it's more a matter of doing a better job with the details, so that it is provocative in the right way.
>>horizon
Cool! It's nice to know that it ended up making the grade.
No worries. I'll admit that the Christmas Carol comment raised an eyebrow, but more out of a sense of confusion (firstly the likelihood of any reasonably literate person in western culture managing to avoid it, but also not seeing any similarities between the two, I'm not sure how knowing Christmas Carol would have made Cold better or worse; it just came off as a non-sequitur).
Comments are always useful. The story does seem to have touched a nerve, which is actually good, as it's supposed to be a little provocative. It seems like it's more a matter of doing a better job with the details, so that it is provocative in the right way.
>>horizon
Cool! It's nice to know that it ended up making the grade.