IFComp 2017 reviews, second batch

In Harmonia, we get to experience the last few days of Abby Fuller, recently employed substitute teacher at Blithedale College. When our protagonist arrives for her new job, she draws the attention of murderous sociopath Alice Gilman by snooping around in the office of her latest victim, Professor Lynn. Alice appears to find pleasure in luring her prey to their demise using highly elaborate schemes and props, tailored to each victim specifically. But this time she must act quickly, so she decides to reuse the underground trap she already built for Professor Lynn. She immediately starts dropping clues and fake journal entries in the direction of Abby Fuller, who doesn't appear to question the veracity of the documents in the slightest.

Most of the clues are delivered by the college librarian, Ella Merchant. Alice Gilman and Ella Merchant never appear in the same room simultaneously, but nobody in the story seems to suspect that they are in fact the same person. In the role of Ella, the killer befriends Abby, and leads her on a wild-goose chase into an old house located on the campus, which she claims was the residence of the mysteriously missing Lynn. But in fact, the house conceals the entrance to Alice/Ella's underground killing chamber. Abby swallows the bait completely, sends her companions away, and crawls alone into the dark tunnels.

Once inside the killing chamber, she bumbles straight ahead—ignoring the debris, the conspicuous rubber gloves and the skeleton—to a strategically located gas generator, and pulls the starter cord. Now, of course, what happens when you run a gas generator in a cave is that the air slowly fills up with carbon monoxide: an odourless, lethally toxic gas that gets into the blood stream and prevents oxygen from reaching the brain. Common signs of poisoning include confusion, disorientation, and visual disturbance. And sure enough, Abby's actions become increasingly erratic as she stumbles around in the darkness, although she is semi-aware of walking willingly into a trap. In a bittersweet twist, the narrative proceeds to describe her dying dream, in which she discovers a time machine, saves the life of Professor Lynn, and gains a foster child. It is a small comfort to know that Abby is thinking these happy thoughts while she slowly asphyxiates in the catacomb.

Goodbye Cruel Squirrel is a grim account of the dealings of a young street gang member who must carry out a violent, ruthless heist in order to rise through the ranks and become the next gang leader.

The setting, typical for the genre, is an urban area divided by a large road. The north side is home to the Gray Tribe, a callous criminal syndicate ruled by a fierce but aging chieftain, the Great Gray. The south side is the turf of their vicious rivals, the Red Tribe. Our protagonist is tasked with “acquiring‟ some valuable merchandise from the Reds in a high-stakes operation that will demonstrate loyalty, ruthlessness and grit.

What makes the story so sinister is not necessarily the goal—stealing—but the cruel means that the protagonist callously employs in order to achieve it: Creating a traffic accident as a diversion. Disciplining a former ally who has failed to reciprocate sufficiently, by sending him to a painful death. Breaking and entering. Destroying property. Flooding homes. Condemning families to starvation.

These are appalling actions that cause a lot of pain and suffering. Whether due to sociopathy or long-term desensitisation, the protagonist does not seem to be bothered by this fact, and regards the acts of brutality as functional stepping-stones towards the solution of a practical problem. Perhaps the author is asking us, the players, to contemplate whether we are much different.

In this chilling tale, we follow a young person who is recruited into a terrorist network. The story is mostly on rails (ha!), although we get several opportunities to back out. But if we choose to go all the way, the protagonist ends up being an agent in a secret terrorist sleeper cell, ready to abandon their family when the signal comes, and perform some task assigned to them in order to strike fear into the public.

What makes this story all the more powerful is the informal, almost light-hearted manner in which it is told. The protagonist is a perfectly ordinary person, sensible and polite, hard-working, perhaps a bit prone to worrying. Through a series of events, they stumble upon an underground movement of like-minded individuals. These people regard themselves as more sensible, meek, pious if you will, than the hedonistic barbarians that surround them. And they have a charismatic leader who urges them to partake in a plot of terror and violence in order to overturn society and finally inherit the world that is rightfully theirs.

The rhetoric of the leader calls for as little violence as possible. The terror will be real, he explains, but all the violence will be faked. This, of course, is a pipe dream—the enemy will not remain passive, and the situation will escalate—but it helps the agents to rationalise their initial commitment and radicalisation. Some members of the audience raise doubts, but they are politely but firmly reassured by the leader. And after a final theatrical twist, any remaining capacity for critical thought seems to have drained from the congregation in a convincing portrayal of groupthink.

In conclusion, this is a strong, credible account of the psychology that drives people into organised terrorism. Despite its light appearance, it is a story with an important message: That terrorists are ordinary people like you and me, concerned about perceived moral shortcomings of the world, enticed by rhetorics and peer pressure into using scare tactics to try to fix things. A dire warning that is perhaps more politically relevant than ever.

Posted Monday 13-Nov-2017 21:51

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