Opening: We arrived by rental car and parked next to a delivery van in the lot closest to the freeway on-ramp. The van hid us from the security cam atop a nearby light pole. We were early, traffic being lighter than expected. As we waited, we touched up our disguises. At 09:55, we left the car singly and proceeded to our target site by separate mall entrances. I rode the escalators to the food court on the third level, while G, C, and B quickly reconned the lower floors, where shops were just opening their grates. Read more.
Capsule: I've some read reviews that criticized this story for being heavy-handed, and others for lacking deftness in its handling of post-9-11 sensibilities. I don't either of those statements are fair. I think Marusek accomplishes a really challenging there; taking a specific, "contemporary" subject susceptible to dramatic pitfalls and crafting an entertaining, thought-provoking story around it. Osama attains symbolic meaning in this story, while paradoxically being nothing more than the man, Osama bin Laden.
This story is memorable in multiple ways, not least of all its psychologically insightful ending. Marusek is able to generate narrative suspense and interest in an unusual way; proclivity for reality-based (or at least real-sounding) specificity. Paragraphs abound in which we are treated to techno-speculative pizzazz, and the sheer impossible, inevitable reality of it all draws us in. This is not the techno-military ambiance of Clancy et al, though, let me be clear. The trappings may bear some resemblance, but the tonal modality is lighter, more subtle, just removed enough in gravitas to achieve emotional involvement. This is, whatever else its accomplishments, an exciting story. It's exciting to see it published as SF. So what if we enjoy it? We're just patriots, after all.
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