I was introduced to Cherryh’s work with Downbelow Station nearly (god) four years ago. I adored it, and bought what’s branded as the sequel (actually just the chronological next story set in the same universe) almost immediately. It then sat on my bookshelf shaming me until, oh, late-September. But, having finally overcome years and years of inertia to read the first book of the collected trilogy, I can confirm it is really, truly excellent. Entirely deserving of the Hugo it got back in the ‘80s.
The book is set on the planet of Cyteen – the second non-terran world ever discovered by humanity with its own biosphere, and the only one without advanced native life. It is mostly set, specifically, in the cutting edge laboratory complex that pioneered both the industrial-scale cloning and the hypnotic education ‘tapes’ that played such a large part in Cyteen (and the larger Union around it) winning independence from Earth and establishing itself as a galactic power. Now Arianna Emory, the scientific genius behind much of that pioneering who rules the labs (and Union’s scientific apparatus in general) like a queen, is doing everything she needs to to secure secrecy and unlimited funding for one new project. Well over a century old, she’s well aware that she’s pushing the edges of what Union’s rejuvenation therapies can do – and with legacy in mind, she is determined to find a way to clone and reproduce the history-shaping genius of, well, people like her. As things transpire, it will end up being needed sooner than anyone anticipated.
So this is book 1 of a trilogy, and I do see why most editions have them all bundled together in one volume. This is basically a book-length prologue for what is clearly the real meat of the story. It is, as it happens, a prologue that’s incredibly interesting and compelling in its own right, at least for me. But still, it is table setting and a bit of rising action, a vast number of characters with barely any complete arcs, and an utter, complete lack of redemption or catharsis. As a stand-alone reading experience it would be pretty unsatisfying.
One of the things I greatly appreciated about Downbelow Station is just how coolly and ruthlessly the narrative treats its characters; Cyteen shares this (and far more than Cherryh’s other work that I’ve read does). Far more than the truly overwhelming majority of genre fiction I’ve read, these feel like events that could really happen. Which is to say, all the fantastical technology actually feels like technology rather than convenient plot devices, and chance and circumstance seem blind and uncaring rather than clearly elevating one or two or ten people as The Protagonists of the Universe (impressive work, given that this is a story where two or three of them objectively literally are).
It is also ruthless in the sense of being largely a story of a) bureaucratic politics and favour-trading and b) the abuse of the vulnerable by the powerful, and all of it in what is a rich, functional, optimistic and outward-looking slave society. All of Union society is built on the Azis – genetically engineered and mass-produced clones providing every sort of labour and subjects for every sort of experiment one can imagine. Some are more privileged than others, and some citizens treat them with more respect and care than their peers – but the story is quite matter-of-fact and almost off-handed in showing or mentioning all the different ways they are abused or used up and disposed of. Given where the story is set, it is unsurprising that ‘abolitionists’ are a bunch of boogeymen and dangerous cranks, but it adds something to the quiet horror of it all that no one (not even the thoroughly indoctrinated and tape-educated Azi POVs we get) of real importance to the narrative ever questions the whole system.
In addition to all the in-universe exposition, the book also has little excerpts from an in-universe educational serial giving glimpses into the whole industrial economy that is the Azis life cycle. Which is exactly the sort of thing that is just total catnip for me in any circumstance, but was especially well-suited for this I think. The line of how tragically the rejuvenation therapies just don’t help with the strain and injuries they tend to get and so aren’t worth applying, and how this means the caste of Azis grown for manual labor rarely lives past 40, is probably one of the most striking in the whole book.
Not that it’s just Azis who are mistreated. This is a story very interested in how much different people are considered to matter by their societies, and the horror that is declaring someone to be a Great Man (or, in this case, Great Woman). Ari Emory is indisputably a genius, has personally advanced the fields of cloning and genetic manipulation by leaps and bounds, has spent decades making herself the beating heart of scientific politics (and funding) throughout Union. And so the fact that she habitually abuses her personal Azis (and how cavalier she is declaring research subjects lost causes and terminating them as soon as their purpose is complete) passes basically without comment, and the number of younger (much younger) and more junior researchers or interns she has coerced into sex over the decades just an embarrassing foible one keeps quiet and works around. (One of the most striking conversations near the end of the book is one of the senior bureaucrats in the Science Directorate explaining to one of our protagonists how he does sympathize with him and is doing what he can to protect him, but making it quite explicit that he considered Ari a friend and will not stand for him publicly besmirching her legacy).
I have read a decent number of stories written in the ‘70s and ‘80s over the last couple of months, and it’s striking how much less dated Cherryh feels than most majority of them. Not not dated, to be sure; there’s any number of verbal and stylistic tics that are very 20th century (people really stopped using ‘damn!’ as an exclamation with teeth at some point), and the tropes and worldbuilding are clearly very much in conversation with now-basically-forgotten traditions of space opera and futurology. But still – the character work is embarrassingly better and more devoted to psychological realism than any of the book’s contemporaries (and a great many well-regarded books released now too, to be fair), and Union as it’s portrayed (racially integrated, genuinely gender-egalitarian, a horrifying expansionist scientific-industrial slave state) feels far closer to modern sociological-minded space opera than most of what I’ve seen that was in the water as it released. Though I suppose it might be more accurate to just say that this is a common ancestor of a lot of more recent fiction I’ve enjoyed as well.
Anyway, great book, thorough recommendation, looking forward to starting book two.