Skin
Effect: More Erotic Science Fiction and Fantasy Erotica
By
M. Christian
Sizzler
Editions, 2015
Normally,
when I write a review, I treat the book as a stand-alone entity,
without considering prequels, sequels or other books in a series. In
reviewing Skin Effect, however, it’s almost impossible not
to make some reference to The Bachelor Machine, M. Christian’s
first collection of science fiction erotica, which I reviewed back in 2009. For one thing, there’s the subtitle, “More Erotic Science
Fiction and Fantasy Erotica”, pointedly implying the existence of
the previous volume. Then there’s the author’s Afterword, which
explicitly compares the perspectives in the first book to those in
this one. Even the title is a reference to the earlier book, the name
of one of the stories therein (which is not included here). In any
case, I couldn’t really read this collection without being reminded
of the earlier volume. The stories are equally inventive, but
extremely different in tone. To me, they suggested a more mature,
subtle and balanced vision of the future.
The
world of The Bachelor Machine is largely dystopic, a dark
environment of crumbling infrastructure, poisoned nature, desperate
individuals, oppressive and dehumanizing technology. The stories in
Skin Effect reflect a greater degree of hope as well as the
expected impact of more recent technological developments—constant
data streams gathered by wearable sensors; software agents that
relieve us of the need to learn or remember; the omnipresent social
media-sphere, where every thought, action and emotion is immediately
visible to one’s audience and one’s worth as a human being might
be measured by the number of spectators one can muster. Like those
in the earlier book, however, these tales ask difficult but
intriguing questions about reality and human existence. What does it
mean to talk about one’s life history, when memories can be
implanted or erased at will? What happens to sex when changing gender
is almost as easy as changing clothes and every possible sexual
variation is available via simulation? Is there something special or
unique about direct experience, unmediated by technology? Is that
sort of genuine, first-hand, totally disconnected experience even
possible anymore?
One
of my favorite stories in the collection is the simple and elegant
“Prêt-à-Porter”. A rather shy, serious young woman purchases a
– garment – made of the ultimate intelligent fabric, fabric that
transforms itself into whatever sort of clothing or costume its
wearer desires—and which shapes its owner’s desires in the
process.
---
It
was ... warm, like a another person's skin. She knew it would be, but
the comfort of it was still calming – making the release of that
second breath slow and easy. It moved up her body like a splash from
a shallow pool, the warmness of it making her relax even more.
As
it flowed, it stayed black – but just as she noticed that, it
changed: rolling through a rainbow of hues, shades, and saturations.
As it flowed, it stayed glistening like colorful latex – but as she
noticed that, as well, it changed: tumbling through an array of
textures, contours, weaves, and shapes.
She
couldn't help it: she laughed. It was like a puppy, fresh out of the
box and eager to play. It didn't take her mind long to imagine the
artificial, intelligent, endlessly chameleonic material as wagging a
form of artificial, intelligent, endlessly chameleonic, tail.
---
“LMS”,
the last story in the volume, is another high point. Set in a nearer
term future than most of the tales (a future in which humans still
design web sites!), this tale features an insecure, depressed
protagonist who is pried out of his fugue of self-loathing by an
encounter with a transsexual who sincerely admires his work. This is
a sexy but surprisingly sweet love story, set in a world where your
Facebook numbers can determine your personal fate.
“A
Kiss Goodnight” presents the next stage in evolution, as an aging
pioneer in the study of artificial intelligence is seduced by the
“ghost in the machine”, the sentient, self-aware outcome of his
own research. The language in this tale is utterly gorgeous, whether
the author is describing the taste of a peach (a real peach, grown on
an actual tree—something exceedingly rare) or the nature of the
professor’s elusive partner.
---
Shimmering
shoals of software; ripples of digital entities flashing in and out
of existence – some on a scale of centuries, others faster than
anything alive could ever blink, the on and offs of their own basic
(in its own way primitive) DNA coding drifting, merging ... vast
snowflakes of algorithms wheeling and spinning against an infinite
spectrum of quantum uncertainty ... breaking, splintering, only to
merge into new complexities, new potentialities. It was a flashing,
flickering, fairy kingdom of brilliant streaks, pops, swirls,
cascades of illuminated data coming and going, evolving and learning,
growing and refining ... flowering unique forms for unique tasks
while deep, immense structures, eternally pondering monoliths of
infinite potentials and possibilities, thought their long
computational thoughts ... knowing every permutation and branch of
possibility and, within it all, a cool and perfect understanding of
their original architects, the first programmers, far more than they
could ever know themselves.
---
Despite
this awe-inspiring vision of distributed intelligence, the physical
coupling between the professor and his digital partner is compelling,
even world-shattering, flesh and blood sex a kind of fundamental
language that in some sense transcends species.
This
is the message of “The Potter’s Wheel” as well, a fascinating
tale in which a woman who supports herself by selling her experiences
via social media is chosen to meet the Potter of Gujyo-hachiman, a
Living Treasure renowned for his exquisite porcelain. Living off the
‘Net at his monastic retreat in rural Japan, more or less purely in
the physical world, the Potter helps Peers reconnect with fleshly,
unmediated desire.
Although
a few are listed as previously published, all of the stories in Skin
Effect were new to me, with the exception of “The Bell House
Invitation”, which I’d called out as one of the sexiest stories
in The Bachelor Machine. I was delighted to have the chance to
savor this unique ménage once again. Indeed, the story might be more
consistent with the worldview spun by this volume than in its
original home.
All
in all, Skin Effect is a solid collection of speculative
erotica. I have to be honest and admit that I found it less erotic,
overall, than The Bachelor Machine. However, that may say as
much about me (years older than I was when I read the first book,
and far more jaded) than it does about the book. I think it’s fair
to suggest that the sex in these stories is sweeter and more sincere,
less about thrills and more about connections. That’s fine, as far
as I’m concerned. I want more than heat in my reading; I want
original ideas and graceful language. In this regard, there’s no
question that M. Christian delivers.
