This page provides information and commentary specifically about the novel The Monsters of Katakot and CONTAINS SPOILERS. Read with caution. For broader, spoiler-free information about this storyworld and book, and a glossary of terms, see the World Guide.
TABLE OF CONTENTS:
The World • Yakṣas • Executioners •
The World: This is Earth, but far in the future, after climate change and global wars have changed its face and broken down and reassembled its cultures. I call it “post-post-apocalyptic” because several apocalyptic-level events have occurred, from the environmental collapse of anthropogenic climate change to the Teratogenic Wards to a devastating collapse of the ecosystem caused by the massive extinction of warm-blooded animals.
As a result of these cataclysmic events combined with the existence of living, networked biocomputers possessed of incredible processing power, the world’s cultures exist in a strange space in which most people are aware of advanced technologies such as genetic reinscription yet live in an early industrial society in which salvaged materials from ancient times are recycled and repurposed in more sustainable ways. Many old technologies are simply no longer viable in a world where, for example, coal resources have been used up and any plastics found or manufactures are likely to be destroyed by lingering phages in the environment. The yakṣas have advanced labs where they work on reinscription and de-extinction technologies, but they’re extremely remote and well-protected from the risk of contamination. Stab
I remember one reader of a very early version of the novel who was absolutely put out that I was writing what appeared to him to be pure fantasy only to mention a radio station broadcast. I was assured that one cannot mix the two. I beg to differ. I wanted to describe a society that has a lot of knowledge but limited resources and strong environmental constraints on development.
This story is loosely set in South Asia, although humanity’s cultures have merged, shifted, and morphed so much over the centuries that it’s not strongly one thing or the other anymore, but hopefully just it’s own thing. If I write more books set in this world, I could as easily choose a different caretaker and protectorate to write about, with its own diverging set of cultures and traditions.
Yakṣas: Because they are a form of artificial intelligence and are, in a way, overseeing/managing the earth, everyone who gets a quick synopsis of the book assumes the yakṣas are villains. I find that fascinating. The yakṣas are not villains; they have sworn to protect all life. They are not quite bodhisattvas, because they were programmed to be as they are, but they are in many ways a rough equivalent. However, they are not anthropocentric, and that perhaps equals “villainy” in human eyes. When the yakṣas proscribe a technology or discourage a tradition or law, they do it with the long-term good of not only humanity, but the entire global ecosystem, in mind. Humans, of course, like children, just hear the “no” and immediately throw a tantrum.
Does that mean that I welcome our new AI overlords? Heh, not the way we’ve programmed and trained them so far! But if we could program and train AI on the highest and most moral of human teachings and ideals — then I imagine they’d do a whole lot better than humanity has at managing the world. Yeah, I don’t hold out a lot of hope for our future.
Executioners: I’ve wanted to write a story about an executioner for a long time. The French Revolution interests me quite a bit, and I remember being struck by the Sanson family, a dynasty of executioners who worked in Paris from 1688 to 1847. I’ve read a lot about, and when possible by, historical executioners, and I wrote a series of short stories about an executioner named Corbin Rook back in the ’90s for a very small readership of gaming friends. (Should I reproduce those early stories here so you can see the roots of some of the characters in this novel? Hmmm….).
Popular culture paints executioners as horrifying monsters, but the executioners themselves often just saw themselves as doing a job. They were part of a larger legal system, and their personalities were as varied as those you’d find in any profession. For the most part they were not highly respected members of society, but that always struck me as pretty hypocritical in societies that might praise generals who orchestrated the deaths of hundreds or even thousands of people a year while the average executioner maybe killed tens or maybe, during times like the French Revolution, hundreds of people a year.
That said, as the novel and my thoughts about it evolved, I realized I was looping. At first I wanted to write about an executioner who was proud of his contribution to making society a little safer but found himself caught up in a political situation where suddenly he wasn’t sure whether he was killing for the “right” reasons or not anymore. That would have been a society in which execution was a fairly commonplace event, as it was in, say, Europe for many centuries. But then I wondered whether that’s the society in which Kurou would be living, given the cultural influence of the life-honoring yakṣas. My next iteration of the Neverending Novel will take that into account and have to change accordingly.