Dan Simmons, Olympos (EOS/HarperCollins, 2005)
Dan Simmons is an author who loves epics. His previous science-fiction saga, the Hyperion/Endymion quartet, was a far-ranging affair that covered several millenia, and featured a hero fighting against the oppressive galactic regime of a resurgent Catholic Church, aided by a mysterious humanoid robot called The Shrike that was traveling backwards in time.
In his latest, the Ilium/Olympos epic, he conjures a distant future in which most of humanity has evolved into powerful post-humans who are meddling in the Solar System's past and its future. Elements of Shakespeare, Homer and Proust, among others of history's literary geniuses, are sprinkled throughout this complex and entertaining story.
Olympos continues the story begun in 2003's Ilium, so a "summary" of the tale so far is in order.
Ilium contains two main plots (and several sub-plots), one taking place on the Earth of some 3,000 years in our future, the other on an apparent alternate Earth some 3,000 years in the past.
In the future, Earth's human population is drastically reduced; they believe there are about a million of them, but later learn there are far fewer. They live in post-literate ease and decadence, their lives one continuous party spread thinly over the earth in various enclaves kept in touch by fax nodes able to transport humans from one place to the next. All manual labor is done by headless cyborg-like voynix. People receive rejuvenation treatments every 20 years until their fifth 20, when (they believe) they are teleported to the ring civilization surrounding the planet to join their loved ones who preceded them.
These humans, for the past 10 years, have become enthralled with a new technology that appeared seemingly from nowhere, a "turin cloth" that they place over their heads and which shows them what they believe to be a virtual reality drama; what they're seeing, in apparent real-time, is the ancient battle for Troy on the Plains of Ilium which give the book its name. Therein is the second main plot, involving a resurrected 21st-century ancient history scholar named Thomas Hockenberry, one of a group of enslaved "scholics" who are carrying the video equipment that is broadcasting the Trojan War to the future earthlings watching via the turin cloths.
This battle is taking place on an alternate Earth, and is being directed by what appear to be the Greek Pantheon, who reside on the top of Olympos Mons on a terra-formed Mars -- which, as it turns out, is in the same "reality" as the future earth of the other main plot. The gods, Hockenberry and other scholics flit back and forth from Olympos to Troy via quantum teleport (QT) medallions.
These "gods," led by Zeus, are apparently some sort of humanoid race given god-like powers tied to technology that they obviously didn't develop themselves. They scheme and squabble among themselves just as the "real" Greek gods did, and take sides in the battle for Troy. Eventually, through Hockenberry's coerced intervention, the war for Ilium and its parallel battle on Olympos are altered from their historical course, and the Trojan and Achaean heroes turn against the gods. They are assisted by a swarm of cyborgs called "moravecs," which arrive from their homes on the Jovian moons to investigate the huge fluctuations in the solar system's quantum state emanating from Mars and Earth.
Meanwhile, back on the Earth of the future, something has caused the sudden and catastrophic failure of civilization, and the voynix servants have gone feral and become the enemy. A small group of humans who had learned to read as an amusing hobby start learning how to survive by wit, guile and strength. They're eventually joined by two mysterious sojourners, a man who calls himself Odysseus and an old woman named Savi. There are two climactic battles: One in Jerusalem against the voynix and whatever power has organized what's called the "final fax," in which the essence of humanity is to be beamed into space; and a second against a mysterious and powerful being known as Caliban, who has been eating the humans sent up to await final rejuvenation in the great "firmary" in the Ring.
As we rejoin the story in Olympos the battle between the gods and the Trojan-Achaean armies has reached an uneasy stasis, and our suspicion that these gods are in reality powerful post-humans has been confirmed. Hockenberry is being sexually manipulated by Helen (yes, that Helen), and the gods and goddeses are plotting against each other with escalating viciousness. The 'vecs have opened a quantum hole between this terra-formed Mars and the alternate Earth, and are preparing to fly a newly built spaceship to "our" Earth.
On that future Earth, the battle between the voynix and the humans is escalating. The human resistance is centered on the estate of Ardis in the Great Lakes area of North America, where some 400 people are learning the ancient arts of survival and warfare. They are led by Harman, who is nearing his fifth 20, and his young wife Ardis, and several others who have learned from Odysseus how to make crossbows and other weapons.
The real battle, in both "universes," appears to be between Caliban (and his master Setebos), and a more benevolent being called Prospero, who is assisted by Ariel, referred to as "the avatar of the living biosphere."
At the center of the story as it unfolds is an idea previously put forth by, among others, Robert A. Heinlein in his The Number of the Beast: namely, that the human mind, especially that of a genius like Shakespeare, in essence generates a number of alternate realities -- new universes shaped by the characters and stories they create. Simmons puts forth the concept briskly and understandably -- largely through the most sympathetic characters, the two moravecs Orphu and Mahnmut -- and doesn't let the concept bog down the plot as Heinlein did.
Which isn't to say Simmons is a better writer than Heinlein. Olympos is quite a bit longer than it needs to be; he's a good descriptive writer but tends to go on too much with his descriptions. And he's repetitive in ways a good editor ought to eliminate. For just two examples, every time we see the spaceship Queen Mab in operation, we're told that it's powered by Coke-can-sized fission bombs being ejected out the rear; and nearly every time Orphu shows up, we're reminded that he's blind in the visual spectrum. Simmons also has the kind of tin ear for human dialog common among sci-fi authors: outside of science fiction and bad romance novels, no lovers call each other "my darling" constantly. But although Olympos is chock-full of characters, it's a novel of ideas and action, not of character, so such lapses can be forgiven if you're of a mood to.
Olympos comes to a series of rousing climaxes with some creative surprises, and battles artfully and graphically rendered. But the best thing about this, as with Simmons' previous works, is that it can make you think about the meaning of human life, mortality and art. Which is all you can ask of a novel. It's got me thinking about re-reading some Shakespeare and Homer, and maybe tackling some Proust for the first time; see if it doesn't pique your interest as well.
