Schild’s Ladder

It’s been a while since I’ve read a Greg Egan book. I often love the ideas he explores, particularly in Diaspora. But I sometimes find his stories difficult to get through. That was definitely true of a previous book I read, Incandescence, which takes place in the setting of an interesting interstellar civilization. But the story seems to slide into a thinly veiled tutorial on general relativity.

I had heard that Schild’s Ladder was one of his more accessible works, but held off reading it until now. I’m glad I did. A decade ago a substantial portion would have been unintelligible. Today I know enough about quantum mechanics to follow many of the discussions and tactics used in the book. But I’m not sure the average reader would find this book that accessible. It doesn’t get into the math (although there are a few diagrams), but it helps to have a conceptual understanding of how superposition, decoherence, entanglement, and similar concepts work.

The setting is twenty thousand years in the future in a posthuman interstellar civilization. People can backup their minds and transfer to new bodies, and are generally immortal. This is hard sci-fi so no faster than light travel. In most cases traveling interstellar distances, typically by transmission, means separation from friends and loved ones for decades or centuries.

In some cases when someone travels, their entire home planet population will go into “slowdown” until they return in order to avoid having them become too out of sync. Slowdown is a protocol that it’s possible to cheat on and exist in real time while everyone else is moving and thinking at a miniscule fraction of the normal pace.

There are also a group of humans known as anachronauts, who left Earth thousands of years earlier, before mind copying had become viable. They travel in sleeper ships, occasionally stopping at a world to check in on how humanity is developing. As the name implies, they’re largely throwbacks, and have difficulty accepting many of the changes that have taken place.

One of those changes is that sexual dimorphism no longer exists among humans. The “he” and “she” pronouns only continue as linguistic conventions relative to types of names. Sex requires people’s bodies to react against each other’s pheromones and gradually become compatible, maximizing the chances that it’s monogamous and consensual. Egan doesn’t describe his characters in physical terms, which likely downplays just how strange we would find them. (This conception of sexuality also reminds me of Ursula Le Guin’s Gethens in The Left Hand of Darkness.)

People’s minds operate on qusps, quantum “singleton” processors, which ensure that any decision is worked out in an isolated quantum superposition and then promoted prior to interaction with the environment, so that a person only ever makes one decision. In other words, they don’t branch (many-worlds style) into multiple versions based on their decisions. (Although it’s accepted that they can and do branch due to other quantum outcomes.) So the premise assumes wave function realism, which becomes important at various points in the story.

Quantum mechanics and general relativity have been reconciled into a framework known as the Sarumpaet rules, presented as a descendent of loop quantum gravity theory. The rules are thousands of years old and heavily tested and validated. At the beginning of the story, it’s hard for the characters to take seriously the idea they could be wrong. But it becomes clear they are when an experiment goes horribly wrong, leading to the accidental creation of a “novo-vacuum” that begins expanding out at half the speed of light, consuming everything it comes in contact with.

As the centuries pass, the novo-vacuum consumes hundreds of star systems necessitating large scale evacuations and migrations. A space station, named the Rindler, is built just outside the boundary of the novo-vacuum with its speed matched to the expansion rate, and deploying scientific instruments to probe the “far side,” a nickname for the novo-vacuum, as opposed to the “near side” for regular space.

Initially built by scientists wanting to study and understand the far side, the Rindler‘s population has swelled as additional people have arrived to participate in the studies. But a couple of camps have formed: the Preservationists, who want to stop the novo-vacuum and destroy it to preserve as many of the existing planets as possible, and the Yielders, who want to stop the far side’s growth but then study it. Relations between the two sides have become bitter.

Tchicaya, the protagonist, is a Yielder who has just arrived on the Rindler. His childhood friend, Mariama, arrives shortly after him. He has not seen her in centuries. She is a Preservationist. Which is ironic because as children, she was the more adventurous one while Tchicaya the one most inclined to preserve the existing status-quo.

This book has a moderate amount of conflict in it, even some violent conflict, something often missing in Egan’s stories. Although as in his other posthuman books, the society envisioned is pretty utopian. The violence comes from the anachronauts, who are from outside the utopia. And the story eventually converges on a typical story frame for Egan, two people together on an odyssey of discovery.

I don’t think I’m spoiling much by noting the final portions of the story explore the changed physics inside the far side. This is a long standing fascination for Egan. He loves exploring alien physics, something that, based on the descriptions of many of his more recent books, has only increased over the years.

I enjoyed this book, but I’m not sure I would have enjoyed it as much without being familiar with the science. Egan’s work is pretty much the hardest of hard sci-fi, which means quantum physics is central to the plot. Often in sci-fi the story can be enjoyed by people who aren’t necessarily into the scientific speculation. I’d say that’s less true here. There is some character drama, but relatively limited. If the idea of characters working on an intractable problem in a quantum superposition so that some version of them finds the right answer sounds like your jam, then it’s probably worth checking out.

Have you read it? If so, any ideas from it that particularly resonated with you?

11 thoughts on “Schild’s Ladder

  1. I haven’t read it, though it sounds a bit too hard sci-fi for me. The novo-vacuum sounds pretty terrifying. Gender pronouns being used as a matter of convention seems plausible since it’s already the case in many languages where every noun has a gender (like a masculine vagina in French!), though English speakers tend to forget just how arbitrary grammatical structures like that can be.

    “Egan doesn’t describe his characters in physical terms, which likely downplays just how strange we would find them.”

    Or allow us to imagine them as being stranger than he could describe them. I think that’s a cool technique.

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    1. Yeah, Egan is tough to recommend for people who aren’t hardcore sci-fi fans. Except maybe for physicists and mathematicians.

      Interesting on the gender use for nouns in other languages. I actually liked this solution better than the one he uses in Diaspora, which uses gender neutral pronouns like “ve”, “vis”, “ver”, for software born people. And of course a lot of sci-fi uses “they”, but that often leaves it ambiguous whether it’s meant singular or plural. Yeah, the people today upset about gender pronoun changes would likely have their head explode if they read Egan.

      “Or allow us to imagine them as being stranger than he could describe them. I think that’s a cool technique.”

      Totally agree. I’m a minimalist myself, a big fan of Hemingway’s iceberg theory. Literary fiction is a guided daydream, and often the best strategy is to give room for the reader to imagine it themselves. Although given his predilections, I suspect Egan’s image of those characters is far stranger than the ones most of his readers hold. But the technique allows them to bring in as much or as little strangeness as they’re comfortable with, pretty useful in this type of fiction.

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  2. Hmm, may well try Egan. Although I do like a good “story” rather than an education these days! I have just realised that I suppose I also look for meaning and avoid bleakness (even in sci-fi). Not happy ending crap but just some sort of hope, I suppose, given all the crap that humanity has both faced and created. Hence my liking for “minds”. Sounds good though

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    1. He has a bunch of his short stories online, which may be an easier way to dip your toe in and see if his waters are for you. For a Banks fan, I recommend Riding the Crocodile: https://www.gregegan.net/INCANDESCENCE/00/Crocodile.html and Glory: https://outofthiseos.typepad.com/blog/files/GregEganGlory.pdf Another story in the same universe is Hot Rock, but isn’t online as far as I can tell. (All of these are also in a story collection called Oceanic.) The novel Incandescence also takes place in the same universe, but that’s the one I mentioned devolves into a general relativity lecture.

      Of his novels, I can also recommend Diaspora for a real mind expanding ride. I may have to do a reread at some point.

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  3. Egan is among my favorite SF authors exactly because of the math. (As you likely know, Egan is an accomplished amateur mathematician.) I loved Incandescence for the same reason you mentioned, it’s hard-core GR. It’s also a tutorial on the orbital mechanics of large bodies, and I learned a lot from it about some peculiarities that happen (the gravity gradients inside the rock — the reason they happen was fascinating and new to me).

    You’re right, though, he’s a hard one to recommend to general readers. And you really have to have a taste for diamond-hard SF to enjoy him. But as a major geek myself, he’s right up my alley. A thinly veiled textbook as a fiction story is fine because I’d probably read the textbook, so a little story is just gravy to me. 😂

    Schild’s Ladder is one of those Apple ebooks I mentioned the other day that trap me in their ecosystem. Reading this review made me think I should leverage my entrapment and read it again soon.

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    1. I loved Incandescence for the world building, but yeah, too much of the GR discovery aspects just went over my head. I have done some reading on GR since I read that book, so maybe it would go down easier today. I do love the short stories he has set in the same universe. (One, “Hot Rock”, I only read a few months ago.)

      One thing I do like about Egan is he doesn’t ignore energy issues. He may be hand wavy about the technologies (it’s kind of required to tell an interesting story), but he still feels the need to at least throw out an idea on where those technologies are getting their energy from.

      I know he also has some short stories set in the Schild’s Ladder universe. Another one where the worldbuilding was catnip for me. I keep meaning to look those up.

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      1. I had done enough reading about GR when I read Incandescence that it went down easy, so I think it would have been the same for you. That’s kind of why the orbital mechanics stuff caught my attention; it was new to me and educational.

        He’s pretty good at sticking to known physics except for whatever SF notion the book is about. Have you read the Orthogonal series? Wild premise in that one is that high velocity works the opposite of what SR says in this universe. The faster you go, the less time has passed when you return.

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        1. I haven’t read the Orthogonal books. The descriptions sound like they take place in an alternate universe. Like he’s taken the final act of Schild’s Ladder (or the extra-dimensional universe from Diaspora) and just expanded it to an entire series, except minus anyone from our reality. Sounds psychedelic. Maybe at some point when I’m in the mood for something that bizarre.

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