Gateway by Frederik Pohl

 Hello, Stranger.

Let's talk about Frederik Pohl's Gateway.

The Short of It

Plot: The Heechee left behind technology so advanced that we cannot understand it; that doesn't stop us from using it to get rich or die trying.

Page Count: 313

Award: 1977 Nebula, 1978 Hugo, and 1978 Locus

Worth a read: Yes. Very yes.
Primary Driver: (Plot, World, or Character)
Bechdel Test: Pass
Technobabble: Low-Moderate.
Review: Really good. Cleverly bounces between the story as it unfolds and therapy sessions afterwards - we know that our hero survives, but something terrible has happened. A bit too Freudian. Still, excellent job of making a complex protagonist, interesting world, compelling story. Wanting to know what went wrong kept me reading - and it pays off. 

The Medium of It

Spoiler Free!

This won all three awards and absolutely deserves them.

An alien race, the Heechee, left behind all sorts of technology. We don't really understand it, but we can use some of it - including ships. Prospectors travel out from the main space station - the titular Gateway - without knowing where they will end up. Maybe they'll uncover new wonders and come back millionaires. Maybe they won't find too much, and another set of settings will be crossed off the list. And maybe they won't come back at all.

Characters are surprisingly nuanced. Bob Broadhead, the main character, starts out feeling like a generic space rogue. He got lucky prospecting, we know that. He's a bit of a womanizer, proud, and has a sharp wit. Pretty soon we see the shell start to crack; the flaws, the temper that pushes away those he loves, the self-loathing. Yet it is not overdone; Bob is neither a hero nor a monster. He's just a guy, a person who is the culmination of all of his experiences and hopes and dreams and doubts and fears. He is a human.

There are a number of other characters who are important; Bob's friends, his lovers, his competition. They all have layers, reasons that they are where they are, different styles of speech and food preferences and hobbies. One of my favorite characters is Sigfrid von Shrink (as Bob calls him) - the robot therapist. 

The narrative jumps between the events that transpired on Bob's prospecting missions and his appointments with a robo-psychiatrist afterwards. I will admit that I'm a sucker for this story structure. I always love getting hints as to what will come next, suggestions that worm their way into your mind. He feels guilty... but why? What did he do? But he also clearly takes responsibility for things beyond his control... maybe he did nothing... but what happened? It's Chekhov's Gun Rack. This could create a totally predictable story, with every twist telegraphed, but Pohl executes it with true mastery - so many things play out that are foreshadowed, and all of them are surprising. It's a remarkable balance to maintain. 

The world is fascinating too. We get some ideas of the settled worlds broadly, tourism, overcrowding, poverty, chaos. We see the depths of the Gateway itself, it's corridors, commissary, casinos, and denizens. We get a taste of what life is like. And we get a grounded view of life aboard Heechee ships; crammed in, constantly tense, hopeful, fearful.

Give this one a read.

If you're inclined to read it, consider using the link below! I'll get a few cents at no extra cost to you!

This is a link!

The Long of It

Spoilers Ahead!

How is this by the same author who wrote Man Plus? What did he put in his coffee between 1976 and 1977? Whatever it was, I want some.

Bob's dynamic with Sigfrid is superb. Resentment that he needs to go, the desire for control... but balanced out on another level by his need to be heard, for someone to help him make sense of it all. One of my favorite exchanges is right around halfway through. Bob has gotten some passwords for Sigfrid from a girlfriend, allowing him to order Sigfrid around.

"Are you satisfied, Robbie?"

"What?"

"Have you established to your own satisfaction that I am only a machine? That you can control me at any time?"

I stop short. "Is that what I'm doing?" I demand, surprised. And then, "All right, I guess so. You're a machine, Sigfrid. I can control you."

And he says after me as I leave, "We always knew that, really, didn't we? The real thing you fear — the place where you feel control is needed — isn't that in you?"

The codes in his pocket have been built up through multiple sessions before this one. We don't quite know what they are, but have some vague ideas. Their use doesn't give Bob the control he wants; instead we see how desperate he is to have power over something. He's lost.

Bob's issues, let us turn to one of the more upsetting moments in this story. 

I reached out to touch her, and she sobbed and hit me, as hard as she could. The blow caught me on the shoulder. 

That was a mistake. 

That's always a mistake. It isn't a matter of what's rational or justified, it is a matter of signals. It was the wrong signal to give me. The reason wolves don't kill each other off is that the smaller and weaker wolf always surrenders. It rolls over, bares its throat and puts its paws in the air to signal that it is beaten. When that happens the winner is physically unable to attack anymore. If it were not that way, there wouldn't be any wolves left. For the same reason men don't usually kill women, or not by beating them to death. They can't. However much he wants to hit her, his internal machinery vetoes it. But if the woman makes the mistake of giving him a different signal by hitting him first— I punched her four or five times, as hard as I could, on the breast, in the face, in the belly. She fell to the ground, sobbing. I knelt beside her, lifted her up with one hand and, in absolutely cold blood, slapped her twice more. It was all happening as if choreographed by God, absolutely inevitably; and at the same I could feel that I was breathing as hard as though I'd climbed a mountain on a dead run. The blood was thundering in my ears. Everything I saw was hazed with red.

This is awful both in and out of context. What context clarifies is that the justifications and rationalizing are Bob's ideas, as opposed to the authors. He takes as little responsibility as he can, blaming society and instinct, taking a step away from himself to make it a general issue. We see exactly the same in his therapy sessions, and it is brought to our attention a number of times by Sigfrid. It is an excellent character moment - he is the only one to blame for his choices, despite his protestations. He regrets it almost immediately afterwards; if he didn't, we would think he was a sociopath. But regret is not enough.

He sees Klara again before the end, but only briefly, and never enough to atone for what he did. She pushes him away. 

The climax of this book is a banger, and it comes right at the end. Everything comes to a head beautifully. He and Klara, as well as eight other people, two ships of five, get stuck at the edge of a black hole. Ultimately he is the only one who escapes, blasting one ship off the other, pushing his friends and the woman he loves deeper in, further into time dilation. Or maybe it was not him who pressed the button; he does not know, but he blames himself. 

"But Rob," he says reasonably, "we've been all over this. They're still alive; they all are. Time has stopped for them—"
"I know," I howl. "Don't you understand, Sigfrid? That's the point. I not only killed her, I'm still killing her!"
Patiently: "Do you think what you just said is true, Rob?"
"She thinks it is! Now, and forever, as long as I live. It's not years ago that it happened for her. It's only a few minutes, and it goes on for all of my life. I'm down here, getting older, trying to forget, and there's Klara up there in Sagittarius YY, floating around like a fly in amber!"

What an excellent book. And what a haunting end.

Just drop me off by the next black hole, Stranger.
And don't forget to read a book!