Religion In Science Fiction

Something I have run across in my vast undertaking of trying to read and conquer every Science Fiction book ever written, there appears to be a lot of mono-religions for aliens. My question is why? This also occurs in the Fantasy genre.

Perhaps if an author tells us that a world has ten religions, but only explains one, the rest is left for us to color in with our imagination?

Is it because the universe in which the story is written is so large that it is not only unnecessary  but detrimental to explore the vast religions and sects of an alien culture? Or is it the simple and easy answer, too much work.

Occam’s razor points me to the latter, which worries me.

I can understand a hive-mind like alien species having one religion, if any at all. A society where a single or total consciousness controls the thoughts and physical movements for an entire species. That makes sense to me.

What I don’t understand is how a large, intergalactic civilization that expands several planets and moons can only believe in one religion, say a golden potato. This strikes me as very odd. If evolution has tought us anything, genetic drift among the different colonies would occur over time. The alien’s bodies would evolve to adjust to the conditions on the planet or moon.

Say that takes place over a period of a few hundred years, I would almost bet that enough difference between the colonies would result in skewed political and religious views, necessity playing a large part in the equation.

We don’t even have to look very far here on Earth to see that villages a few miles apart have similar but ultimately different religious ideologies. Expand countries and continents and the difference grows.

So why would it be any different for an alien species? Am I over simplifying the unknown by applying human conditions and parameters to something incalculable?

Culture is something that does interest me. I enjoy reading about other societies and the differences in perspectives that can differ so radically from my own. Introduce a creature with different needs and biological functions than a human, we have a recipe for extreme shifts and differences from our own. The potential to explore this in a soft science fiction universe feels like trying to find where the ocean meets the sky, an endless journey.

The amazing part is after religion, we have politics and social class to explore. Perhaps I just haven’t read as widely as I would like to think I have, or is there a kernel of truth to this?

What do you think? Can you point me to any Fantasy and Science Fiction books that explore in greater detail the softer exploits or a civilization?

A Cute Story From Frank’s Childhood

I was born not in Missouri, but in a southern state that I won’t name, lets just say it ends with ippi. While I am somewhat the black sheep of my family, I do still have southern/redneck views and tendencies. For example; I drink sweet tea religiously and I still sometimes refer to soda as coke. In the south, when you walk into a restaurant, they ask what kind of coke you would like, which my preference is sprite. Coke = soda, coca-cola = coca-cola. I also whole heartily believe that if duct tape cannot fix it, it is beyond repair. Which is cleverly hidden by the fact that I am also a geek and geek culture holds the same belief. I was also raised to believe that The War of Northern Oppression is incorrectly called the Civil War. Don’t worry, I don’t believe that, I got all edumacated like. And no, I don’t like NASCAR.

I was visiting my grandparents for the summer. It was hot, which hot in Missouri means lukewarm bath water and hot in the ippi states means people die of heat stroke because they walked from their front door to the car, so my grandfather decided we needed to go fishing. This meant we wake up at 5 a.m. and drive two hours to Lake Washington, just a little south of Greenville, pull out the john boat and blaze out to the murky depths at a blistering .5 mph (can’t scare the fish).

From there we jump out of the boat (the deepest part of the lake where we where is about 6 feet) and walk around until you bump into a large artifact. Then you fumble around until you find the opening, and with very skilful grace, dexterity, finesse, and monkey-like curiosity you stick your hand in. The goal is to find a catfish nested inside. You can’t see what you are doing, just feeling it out. If you find one, it is tradition to murmur several whoops and hollers but a solemn ‘sumbitch’ works too, you stick your hand in its mouth or grab it by the gills and pull it out. In the south it is simple referred to as hand-grabbing, because why label things outside of an explanation in the title?, whereas here in Missouri/North it is called noodling. Which is the dumbest name in the world.

Catfish have teeth, tiny teeth, and sometimes you can get cut on them. It doesn’t really hurt at all, you are just wading in brown muddy water with your hand inside an old washing machine/tire in a very personal manner, it plays a psychological and instinctual game of ‘WHATTHEFUCKWASTHAT’ knee-jerk reactions in your head – which is normal until you get used to it.

I’m out in the water with my grandfather, brother, uncle, and two cousins. We are off a little ways from the main channel in a little cove, moving around trying to find some artifact so tactfully and artfully thrown into the water as to lure catfish to their eventual breading and frying.  My uncle is trying to find a catfish home with his feet when a bump, curse, ‘got one’ flutters into the air. We can’t exactly see what is going on, so as a customary for lookers-on, we watch his face to gauge the size and difficulty of his find. A few seconds go by when he yells and pulls his hand out.

Now, what do you guess has happened? Did he cut himself on something metal? Is there a snapping turtle playing peek-a-boo? Is there a murlock stabbing him with a spear?

No, he pulls out the biggest god damn cottonmouth I have ever seen out of the water. It is attached to the inside of his hand, right about his thumb joint. You can see it moving its jaws around, needling fangs back and forth. My uncle has huge, banana finger shaped hands, so either this thing didn’t want to let go or couldn’t, I don’t know.

What would you do in this situation? Remember, we are a clan of rednecks, screaming like a little girl doesn’t fit into the lifestyle. My uncle did something that is more manlier than eating chili on your ice cream. He bent down, bit the snake behind its head, grabbed the body, and ripped the head off. Yes, you read that right, my uncle bit a poisonous snake’s head off.

He looked at us, we stared at him in ‘WHATTHEFUCKWASTHAT’ mode, his hand oozed blood, and we continued hand-grabbing for a bit. Never to hurt his masculinity, we didn’t ask if he needed to go to the hospital. Luckily after a while when he started to lose control of his hand (it was going paralyzed) he said, “Welp, best get to the hospital and get this looked at.” We boated back to the dock at a mind shattering 5 mph, packed up, and went to the hospital. He was fine after treatment.

The Story Concepts Are Like A Gushing Wound……. Of Ideas…. Not Blood

I literally have a small notebook full of story ideas. I can’t seem to staunch the open flow of creativity. It is getting to the point that I fear if I spent the rest of my natural life writing, I might get half way through. Seriously….

I came up with a new concept for a book series. It wouldn’t be high fantasy, maybe epic visceral, but very slipstream. It essentially takes place in a mountain range that nobody is really sure where they are or how to get to , but folks end up there accidentally all the same. Leaving is even that much harder, for strange things happen that keep life on the mountain volatile. The idea is essentially the birth place of magic that crazy shenanigans and adventures take place (dismantling clichés in the process – think Terry Pratchett) that all cultures seem claim propriety at. In the time frame that I am thinking, lots of time has passed and magic is all but gone. A few flickers exist, but only here in the mountain can a practitioner really thrive. Even then, they have to be damn good at their craft in order to harness the few threads of slippery magic left. The entire society and livelihood of the mountain revolves around a single inn.

That is all the detail you will get for now.

I’m thinking that the books would be small, like 70k-90k pages worth. Quick fun reads for the whole family… except the kids. I have a perverse sense of humor… so maybe not grandma either.

This is a story/idea that I think I will enjoy writing as much as reading. There is probably a moral somewhere in that sentence.

I’ve been going back and forth on posting Violence Breeds Violence, Repression Breeds Retalitation free for my 100th post. I don’t know how well that will go if it becomes published, I might have to take it down. Hmm, I’ll look into it.

Well today is my year anniversary, I have to go and give some love and attention to my other, then to dinner. Have a good day everybody!