The Days of Future Past in Slaves of the Switchboard of Doom
If you were asked to summon a vision of Tomorrowland, you probably could do so with ease. Never mind the teeming theme park crowds, we’re talking a gleaming technological utopia in the sky, filled with jetpacks and monorails and future citizens zipping to and fro with uncomplaining efficiency.
In Tomorrowland, we see the future as we always hoped it would be: pristine, optimistic, innovative, peaceful.
Today we tend to see the future through a, well, less optimistic lens. Though we have smarter, faster, more sophisticated technology at our fingertips every day, the halcyon visions of Earth imagined in the World’s Fair pavilions of yore don’t seem to be getting any closer.
Slaves of the Switchboard of Doom: A Novel of Retropolis
Hardcover $25.99
Slaves of the Switchboard of Doom: A Novel of Retropolis
Hardcover $25.99
But something in our DNA still calls us back to those quainter, quieter days of imagination, when the future was full of possibilities. Bradley W. Schenck’s debut novel Slaves of the Switchboard of Doom fully embraces this retrofuturism—robots and all—imbuing it with a modern sense of self-awareness.
The setting is, appropriately enough, Retropolis, the city of the future as dreamed up a half-century ago. Humans co-exist with a variety of robots, none on the verge of overthrowing their organic masters just yet. There are flying cars (naturally), and you can also get around by airship, rocket, a monorail system, or pneumatic tube. Scientists run amok, but in the way of constant innovation, not burgeoning world domination. The moon is within reach, but home to the Temple of the Spider God, which has a nasty habit of abducting Earth cats. (Not everything can be perfect.)
The march of progress has sadly not purged us of middle management, however. After an efficiency review, the human operators of the Info-Slate switchboard are laid off without notice. The switchboard, however, continues to operate, powered by unknown operators of shadowy origins.
So, the ladies of the switchboard, led by Nola Gardner, determine to get to the bottom of their unceremonious firing. It may not sound like the start of a thrilling escapade, but Nola finds it anyway in the person of Dash Kent, freelance adventure and frequent rescuer of moon-bound felines.
Ostensibly, Dash is assigned to discover why the switchboard operators were fired, and who replaced them. The truth he, Nola, and trusty robot sidekick Rusty uncover, however, points to a much larger plot that threatens all of Retropolis—and it all centers on the public transit system (a subtle narrative kick in the pants to one of the pillars of the utopian future we could do better to usher in in the here and now).
The story is told through the madcap antics of a host of characters, whose disparate travels around the city converge in the underground network of tubes and tunnels that house the city’s transport infrastructure—and its many, many secrets.
Of course, we spend considerable time with Dash, Nola, and Rusty, but also ride along with the authoritative Mrs. Broadvine and her band of erstwhile switchboard operators; the plethora of automaton labor rights advocates of the Fraternal League of Robotic Persons; the deranged and brilliant scientists contained in the Experimental Research District; the menacing young Campbell siblings, along with their prisoner, civil servant Abner Perkins; and, last but not least, the world’s smallest giant robot.
All of these characters bear different motivations and have different pieces of the puzzle, but in one way or another, every last one of them is on the trail of civil engineer-gone-rogue Howard Pitt.
Juggling so many narrative threads is difficult work that can easily go awry, but Schenck holds them all together, creating a high-energy, ridiculously fun read from start to finish. (He also provides his own original artwork—over 100 images scattered throughout the text in black and white—to set the scene.) In a period of relative angst about the future, Slaves of the Switchboard of Doom feels positively wholesome, dastardly hijinks and all, and never loses its slyly winking style.
It’s a World’s Fair for simpler times, and you’re all invited.
Slaves of the Switchboard of Doom is available now.
But something in our DNA still calls us back to those quainter, quieter days of imagination, when the future was full of possibilities. Bradley W. Schenck’s debut novel Slaves of the Switchboard of Doom fully embraces this retrofuturism—robots and all—imbuing it with a modern sense of self-awareness.
The setting is, appropriately enough, Retropolis, the city of the future as dreamed up a half-century ago. Humans co-exist with a variety of robots, none on the verge of overthrowing their organic masters just yet. There are flying cars (naturally), and you can also get around by airship, rocket, a monorail system, or pneumatic tube. Scientists run amok, but in the way of constant innovation, not burgeoning world domination. The moon is within reach, but home to the Temple of the Spider God, which has a nasty habit of abducting Earth cats. (Not everything can be perfect.)
The march of progress has sadly not purged us of middle management, however. After an efficiency review, the human operators of the Info-Slate switchboard are laid off without notice. The switchboard, however, continues to operate, powered by unknown operators of shadowy origins.
So, the ladies of the switchboard, led by Nola Gardner, determine to get to the bottom of their unceremonious firing. It may not sound like the start of a thrilling escapade, but Nola finds it anyway in the person of Dash Kent, freelance adventure and frequent rescuer of moon-bound felines.
Ostensibly, Dash is assigned to discover why the switchboard operators were fired, and who replaced them. The truth he, Nola, and trusty robot sidekick Rusty uncover, however, points to a much larger plot that threatens all of Retropolis—and it all centers on the public transit system (a subtle narrative kick in the pants to one of the pillars of the utopian future we could do better to usher in in the here and now).
The story is told through the madcap antics of a host of characters, whose disparate travels around the city converge in the underground network of tubes and tunnels that house the city’s transport infrastructure—and its many, many secrets.
Of course, we spend considerable time with Dash, Nola, and Rusty, but also ride along with the authoritative Mrs. Broadvine and her band of erstwhile switchboard operators; the plethora of automaton labor rights advocates of the Fraternal League of Robotic Persons; the deranged and brilliant scientists contained in the Experimental Research District; the menacing young Campbell siblings, along with their prisoner, civil servant Abner Perkins; and, last but not least, the world’s smallest giant robot.
All of these characters bear different motivations and have different pieces of the puzzle, but in one way or another, every last one of them is on the trail of civil engineer-gone-rogue Howard Pitt.
Juggling so many narrative threads is difficult work that can easily go awry, but Schenck holds them all together, creating a high-energy, ridiculously fun read from start to finish. (He also provides his own original artwork—over 100 images scattered throughout the text in black and white—to set the scene.) In a period of relative angst about the future, Slaves of the Switchboard of Doom feels positively wholesome, dastardly hijinks and all, and never loses its slyly winking style.
It’s a World’s Fair for simpler times, and you’re all invited.
Slaves of the Switchboard of Doom is available now.