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    Mindbridge
    Mindbridge
    Mindbridge
    Ebook265 pages3 hours

    Mindbridge

    By Joe Haldeman

    3.5/5

    ()

    Read preview

    • Space Exploration

    • Survival

    • Teamwork

    • Alien Encounters

    • Technology

    • First Contact

    • Alien Invasion

    • Space Opera

    • Government Conspiracy

    • Mind Control

    • Military Science Fiction

    • Time Dilation

    • Alien Abduction

    • Space Colonization

    • Lost in Space

    • Time Travel

    • Scientific Research

    • Artificial Intelligence

    • Advanced Technology

    • Communication

    About this ebook

    A remarkable alien technology could have devastating consequences for humanity in this novel by the Hugo and Nebula Award–winning author of The Forever War.

    In the far future, the accidental scientific breakthrough known as the Levant-Meyer Translation changes everything. Suddenly people can leap instantaneously across the universe, albeit temporarily, enabling teams of Tamers to explore far-flung worlds and prepare them for possible human habitation. But one expedition doesn’t make it back alive.
     
    Jacque Lefavre achieves his lifelong dream of becoming a Tamer when he joins the Agency for Extraterrestrial Development. On his first exploratory mission to a planet known as Groombridge, Lefavre and his team encounter something truly extraordinary: a small, nonsentient creature that, when joined with another of its kind, creates a telepathic “bridge.” But exploiting this psychic link could bring unanticipated perils, for it is about to bring Lefavre and his team into dangerously close contact with the L’vrai, an ancient, advanced, and hostile race of star travelers—an encounter that could prove to be the first step in humankind’s salvation . . . or its doom.

    This ebook features an illustrated biography of Joe Haldeman including rare images from the author’s personal collection. 
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOpen Road Media
    Release dateDec 2, 2014
    ISBN9781497692404
    Mindbridge
    Author

    Joe Haldeman

    Joe Haldeman began his writing career while he was still in the army. Drafted in 1967, he fought in the Central Highlands of Vietnam as a combat engineer with the Fourth Division. He was awarded several medals, including a Purple Heart. Haldeman sold his first story in 1969 and has since written over two dozen novels and five collections of short stories and poetry. He has won the Nebula and Hugo Awards for his novels, novellas, poems, and short stories, as well as the John W. Campbell Memorial Award, the Locus Award, the Rhysling Award, the World Fantasy Award, and the James Tiptree, Jr. Award. His works include The Forever War, Forever Peace, Camouflage, 1968, the Worlds saga, and the Marsbound series. Haldeman recently retired after many years as an associate professor in the Department of Writing and Humanistic Studies at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He and his wife, Gay, live in Florida, where he also paints, plays the guitar, rides his bicycle, and studies the skies with his telescope. 

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    Reviews for Mindbridge

    3.5/5

    163 ratings8 reviews

    What did you think?

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    Review must be at least 10 words

    • 4/5
      I was given a free galley of this book from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

      This book is an interesting take on first contact. With interesting sci fi elements and a unique protagonist, it makes for an interesting read. The long time period over which this saga occurs adds to the overall tale as well.
    • 4/5
      Excellent. Fascinating characters, interesting tech and an unusual and compelling premise, combined with a rather distinct style of story-telling made for a great read. I'd forgotten just how good Joe Haldeman is!
    • 5/5
      Excelleng delivery and imaginative scifi. devoured it faster than any book before. Well done.
    • 3/5
      This was more an "idea" book and less of a "plot" book. Humanity has discovered instantaneous travel to the stars, but with some limitations. What they find will change everything. And the change is largely mediated through one man for a long time.

      Kinda interesting aliens here, but we don't really see enough of them to get a good idea of them. They do affect humanity in vast ways over a thousand years though. Much of that is just hinted at.

      So, kinda interesting, but kinda incomplete-feeling. I did enjoy the pictures of Mr. Haldeman & family at the back of the ebook I read though.
    • 4/5
      What a weird book. It seems like it's all about this one thing, but about ⅔ in, that thing it weirdly dismissed by a short explainer chapter, and then the _real_ plot starts. And abruptly stops and is wrapped up somehow both inconclusively and perfuntorily? But I still liked it. There were a lot of charts and graphs and switching media and storytelling styles, and I could really see it working well as a movie… if it didn't have such a lackluster ending.
    • 3/5
      Good writer. I will always try a Haldeman book. This one was not one of his best. Still it was worth the read.
    • 5/5
      Well, I'm not sure why I liked this story, my lack of an explanation is perhaps simply that I'm fighting a mid-winter writer's block and depression, but I suspect that it is because I believe that mankind will stumble into inter-stellar travel much in the accidental manner described by this book, with the unintended, and undesirable consequences. Naturally, it is fun to read something which basically confirms your own cherished prejudices. This was a quick and enjoyable read, I was interested in how man reacted to its encounter with other intelligent species and heartened that the writer believes (hopes) that the encounter will be benign when it happens. Another good story from Haldeman, thank you sir, and thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for the chance to read the work.

      2 people found this helpful

    • 4/5
      Just prior to reading this book, I finished a bloated two-book slog by a very famous science fiction author – a book that won (I believe) a Hugo and a Nebula. That may be enough for you to determine of which book I speak, but no sense dragging the author’s name through the mud in the review of another book. In fact, no review should start with a reference to another book.

      However, I bring it up because this book was a cold, deep, crisp, cleansing drink of water after my previous experience.

      There is much to recommend in this book. To start with, it is a good, fast read. Just under 200 pages, it is amazing to see the experiences and ideas Haldeman squeezes in with so little writing. (And, in this day when bloatedness seems to rule, that makes it so much better.) There is the idea of instant transmission of humans, with a flaw that means we can’t just galivant everywhere. There is the idea of a creature which can cause instantaneous esp between those touching the animal (again, with flaws that create problems.) And then there are aliens that look new and fresh (hard to pull off when so many aliens have already been describe). In addition, our understanding of these aliens shifts many times throughout the book. All done effectively, and all done in such short order.

      In addition, Haldeman experiments with content and plotting. Some works; some doesn’t. But it makes for an even better exploration through reading.

      This could easily have been a short story/novelette and been successful. But the way Haldeman has told and expanded the story brings dimensions we would have missed through any other delivery.

      Finally, there might be some concern that this 1977 book might be dated. I didn’t think so. Maybe I’m reading it with an old man’s eyes, but it seemed as fresh and interesting and relevant as anything I see today. Which means, read it today.

      1 person found this helpful

    Book preview

    Mindbridge - Joe Haldeman

    1

    Blessed Are the Peacemakers

    Denver pissed him off.

    Jacque Lefavre had managed a long weekend pass from the Academy, and at the last minute decided to go to Denver instead of Aspen. It looked like rain.

    Indeed it rained in Denver, bucket after cold bucket, time off at midnight for sleet. In Aspen, he learned later, it had been eight inches of good powder snow.

    He went to the Denver Mint and it was closed. So was the museum; government holiday. He went to a bad movie.

    He was walking along with his overcoat open and a cab splashed him from collar to cuff. Traveling light, he’d brought no other outer clothes.

    The hotel’s one-hour dry cleaning service took twenty hours. They wouldn’t admit they’d lost the trousers.

    He drank too much room-service booze, sitting in his room watching daytime TV in his underwear.

    When he got his uniform back, they had neglected to roll the cuffs. He would have to re-iron them when he got back to Colorado Springs.

    The desk clerk would allow him neither student discount nor military discount. He had to shout his way all the way to the assistant manager, and then they only gave him the reduced rate to get rid of him.

    The train broke down and was six hours late.

    He stomped his way through the sleeping dormitory, in mild trouble for coming in after curfew, and smelled fresh paint when the elevator stopped at his floor.

    His roommate had painted their room flat black. Walls, ceiling, even the windows. Jacque had painted the room at the beginning of the semester, to cover up the government green. Now he discovered a curious thing.

    There was a limit to rage.

    Uh, Clark, he said mildly. What, you didn’t like beige?

    Clark Franklin, his roommate, was stretched out on the bed, chewing a toothpick and studying the ceiling. Nope.

    Personally, I thought it was rather soothing. He felt deadly calm but abstractly realized that his fingernails were hurting his palms. He stood at the foot of Franklin’s bed.

    Franklin shifted, crossing his ankles. He hadn’t looked at Jacque yet. Chacun à son goot.

    Goût! I don’t like the black very much.

    Well.

    You should have asked me first. We could have arrived at a compromise. I would’ve helped you paint it.

    You weren’t here. I had to paint it while I had the time free. He looked at Jacque, lids half closed. The beige was distracting. I couldn’t study

    You lazy son of a bitch, I’ve never seen you crack a book! A neighbor thumped the wall and shouted for them to keep it down in there.

    Franklin took the toothpick out of his mouth and inspected it. Well, yeah. Couldn’t study in the beige.

    The next morning the registration clerk told Jacque he would have to wait until next semester to get a new roommate. Four months.

    Actually, Franklin moved out a few weeks early. He left three teeth behind.

    2

    Autobiography 2062

    I’ve never used a voice typer before but I know the general idea you’ve got to damn you’ve got to press the character button and say period…. There. Comma,,,, It works, how about that. Paragraph button now.

    My name is Jacque, spelling light comes on, Jacque Lefavre. If it were a French machine it probably would have spelled out Jacques and the hell with it, but no, that’s right the way it is up there, without the final ess.

    This is for the archives, I mean ARCHIVES damn. Got to touch the capitals button then get off it before you say the word. Starting over.

    This is for the Archives of the Agency for Extraterrestrial Development. Motivational analysis and training evaluation survey. Highly confidential, so get your eyes back where they belong.

    Begin at the beginning, my freshman composition teacher used to say, and I could never figure out whether that was profound or stupid. But all right, the beginning. I was conceived sometime in the spring of 2024. We’ll skip the next eighteen years or so.

    But I should say something about my father because that is important. And if what they say is true, that this won’t be read (spelling light again, crazy language) for another twenty years, then people will probably have forgotten who he was.

    My dad’s—Robert Lefavre’s—shining hour was the paper he delivered at the 2034 American Physical Society meeting. It was called The Levant-Meyer Translation: Physics as Wishful Thinking. Look it up, it’s very convincing. It was well-received. But the next month, Meyer sent a mouse and a camera to Krüger 60 and they came back alive and full of exposed film, respectively. Via the LMT.

    So in one day my father was reduced from Nobel candidate to footnote.

    Even as young as I was, I could see that something broke in my father when that happened. Something snapped. With hindsight, now, I have sympathy for him. But he was a ruined man, and I grew up disillusioned with him, contemptuous and hostile.

    It’s kind of a kick, watching this machine spell. I couldn’t spell contemptuous if my life depended on it. Now if they could only program it to put the semicolons in where they belong…

    So as far as motivational analysis, I guess the main reason I became a Tamer was to hurt my dad.

    After his anti-LMT thesis was demonstrated to be wrong, Dad took a sabbatical from the Institut Fermi and never went back. Maybe they asked him not to return, but I doubt it. I think it was just that he would have had to start work on applications of the Levant-Meyer Translation, like everyone else at the Institut. After spending six years trying to prove that there was no such thing as the LMT; that the freak accident that happened to Dr. Levant had nothing to do with matter transmission, but could be explained in terms of conventional thermo-dynamics.

    So we gave up the nice Manhattan brownstone and moved upstate, away from Institut Fermi and the weekly seminar at Columbia, to a little junior college where Dad became one-third of the physics department.

    He hated the job, but it gave him plenty of time outside of class. He would stay locked in his study all morning and evening, oblivious to us, trying to find where his thermodynamic proof had gone wrong. Mother left: in less than a year, and I left as soon as I was old enough to take the Tamer examination.

    My nineteenth birthday came just three days after I graduated from gymnasium (we’d moved back to Switzerland in 2042), and that morning I was the first one in line at the AED employment office in downtown Geneva. The testing took two days, and of course I passed.

    I went home and told Dad that I’d been accepted, and he forbade it. Those were the last words he ever said to me. I didn’t even see his face again until his funeral, nine years later.

    Dad’s attitude was the familiar one (then), that we had just come too far, too fast. Less than a century had gone by between the first unmanned satellite and interstellar travel via the LMT. We hadn’t even finished cleaning up after the Industrial Revolution, he claimed—and here we were planning to export the mess to the rest of the Galaxy. And war and et cetera. We should grow tip first, put a moratorium on the LMT until the race was philosophically mature enough to handle the vast opportunity.

    Who was going to tell us when we’d grown up enough, he didn’t say. People like him, presumably.

    So I slammed the door on his silence and went on to the AED Academy in Colorado Springs.

    (Reading over the above, I can see that it gives a pretty lopsided picture of my motives for joining the AED. Although my father’s extreme stance in the opposite camp was very important, especially in keeping me from quitting the Academy when it got rough, I probably would have tried to join no matter what my family situation was. The profession seemed romantic and interesting, and my generation had grown up coveting it.)

    I’m not the best Tamer to ask about training evaluation. It took me six years to get through the Academy (in those days a lot of people got through in four), even though I had no trouble with the course work or the physical training. My semester reports were always marked profiled for psych.

    They’ve loosened up on this a bit, over the years. But when I was at the Academy there was one quality they valued over all others, for the people who made up a Tamer team: icy self-control. The kind of person who would face certain death with a slightly raised eyebrow.

    They never got perfection, because they also were looking for qualities such as imagination and resilience, rarely found in robots. But I did have to admit that all of my fellow students seemed rather more self-possessed than I was. Mainly, I had one hell of a time controlling my temper. They put me through psychoanalysis and situational therapy and even made me study Buddhism and Taoism. But then they would test me with the damnedest things, and I would always flunk and get profiled.

    They liked to use ringers, for instance. I got a new roommate once who turned out to have been an actor, and who spent a whole semester perfecting his role. He would borrow things and never return them, express outrageous opinions without deigning to argue about them, contemptuously refuse to study and yet get high grades. Plus a whole galaxy of small annoyances. And then, in the middle of the study week preceding the semesters final exams, he sauntered into the room and announced that he had won over my current lover. And he had revealed to her certain things. Things a man will tell another man and feel protected by bond of gender.

    I hoped the AED repaired his nose and fixed that kneecap. I left him there bleeding and went out to walk through the snow, actually afraid I would kill him if I stayed in the room. I stomped around until my fingers turned blue, then returned to find him gone, replaced by a note from my psych counselor.

    It turns out that the two extra years served me well later on. I took a heavy load of technical electives, and things like discrete tectonics and atmosphere kinematics came in handy when we got down to practical geoformy. With a broad, general knowledge of the physical and biological sciences, I’ve always drawn more than my share of trailbreaker assignments. The first Tamer team that goes to a planet has to have a couple of generalists aboard, to help decide what sort of specialists will go on subsequent trips. And it’s a lot more fun to crawl around an unexplored planet than it is to go in with pick and shovel and geo-form it. For me, anyhow.

    Studying oriental philosophies didn’t improve me the way the psych board hoped. But Taoism did save my ass in a very direct way, in what I later learned was my final, make-or-break, situational exam. It also involved an actor.

    My Taoism instructor was a kindly old gentleman named Wu, full of humor and patience. I was headed for Germany on summer break, and not planning to do any serious studying, but out of respect for him I agreed to continue the I Ching readings. Even though I privately considered the book’s wisdom to be only slightly more profound than the little notes you get inside of fortune cookies.

    So every morning I would compose myself with contemplation and prayer, trying not to feel silly, and then ask the I Ching a general question about the day ahead of me. Then I’d toss the coins, look up the proper commentary, and commit it to memory, so I could refer to it at various times during the day.

    I don’t even remember the question I asked that morning before my final testing. But I’ll never forget the commentary:

    Here a strong man is presupposed. It is true he does not fit in with his environment, inasmuch as he is too brusque and pays too little attention to form. But he is upright in character, he meets with (proper) response…

    It struck me as oddly appropriate, and all day I walked around trying to be not-brusque and proper. That night, as I had done every night since coming to Heidelberg, I went to a quiet, inexpensive bar down the block from my hotel to read and relax from the day’s sightseeing.

    A bellicose drunk was abusing the bartender for not serving him. I watched the argument for a while, noted privately that the big fellow could use a dose of the I Ching more than another drink, and returned to my reading.

    I looked up when the argument stopped, and in the mirror behind the bar caught a glimpse of the drunk lurching by behind me. Then for no reason he picked up an empty stein and tried with all his might to brain me with it.

    I didn’t know it at the time, but the AED was not going to allow me a seventh year of training. They didn’t care whether I got my brains bashed out for inattention or stopped the assault by simply punching the guy. Or breaking his back; he was getting paid enough to compensate for a long hospital stay or a prison term for second-degree murder.

    Either way, I would have flunked out.

    But I saw it coming and grabbed his wrist and twisted the stein away from him. I set it on the bar and asked him, Do I know you? in pretty good German, in a low voice. When he responded with a stream of bilingual invective, I told the bartender to call a cop. The drunk left.

    The anger, bitter anger, hit me a few minutes later, in trembles and cold sweats and grinding teeth. But instead of going off in a rage, finding the guy and pulverizing him, I remembered who I was trying to be, and kept it bottled up. And wound up spending the rest of the short evening on my knees in the john.

    There were three other people in the bar, and one of them was an AED observer. The next day, I got my papers.

    3

    Personal Report

    Satellit Übersendung Mitteilung ITT

    Mt Dear Riley:

    As directed, I was present at the informal testing of Tamer Candidate Jacque Lefavre. I am trying to reach you by telephone, but get no response from your office or home. You must be in the early evening; it is 2.00 AM here.

    It is my pleasure to report that candidate Lefavre acted reacted with

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