It Could Happen Here - CZM Book Club: "The House of Surrender" by Laurie Penny

Episode Date: February 4, 2024

Margaret reads Shereen a story about a time traveler sent to a very strange prison.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Hey guys, I'm Kate Max. You might know me from my popular online series, The Running Interview Show, where I run with celebrities, athletes, entrepreneurs, and more. After those runs, the conversations keep going. That's what my podcast, Post Run High, is all about. It's a chance to sit down with my guests and dive even deeper into their stories, their journeys, and the thoughts that arise once we've hit the pavement together. Listen to Post Run High on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Hi, I'm Ed Zitron, host of the Better Offline Podcast, and we're kicking off our second season digging into Tech's elite and how they've turned Silicon Valley into a playground for billionaires. From the chaotic world of generative AI to the destruction of Google search, Better Offline is your unvarnished and at times unhinged look at the underbelly of tech brought to you by an industry veteran with nothing to lose. Listen to Better Offline on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, wherever else you get your podcasts from. on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, wherever else you get your podcasts from. On Thanksgiving Day, 1999, five-year-old Cuban boy Elian Gonzalez was found off the coast of Florida. And the question was, should the boy go back to his father in Cuba? Mr. Gonzalez wanted to go home and he wanted to take his son with him. Or stay with his relatives in Miami.

Imagine that your mother died trying to get you to freedom. Listen to Chess Peace, the Elian Gonzalez story, on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This episode gets a content warning this episode deals with some themes that might be not what you're trying to listen to and in which case catch us next week um i believe that the author handles these themes respectfully however this episode does describe sexual assault and self-harm. Book club, book club, book club, book club, book club, book club, book club is back. Book club is back, everyone. Thanks for allowing me an unannounced three weeks. I didn't do book club or two weeks. I don't remember how long it was. But book club is back.

I'm your host, Margaret Kildroy. And with me is Shireen. Hi, Shireen. Hi. You were purposely going out of sync for that chant in the beginning. You set us up for failure. I did. I did set us up for failure.

Really, I set you up for failure. I did great. Yeah, you knew you up for failure. I did great. Yeah, you knew what you were doing. Yeah. Book Club is your science fiction and fantasy and probably non-those things. Your fiction thing that happens once a week in your ears on two different podcast feeds.

On Shireen's podcast feed and on my podcast feed. It could happen here and cool people who did cool stuff. It's a story. I'm going to read it to Shireen's podcast feed and on my podcast feed. It could happen here and cool people who did cool stuff. It's a story. I'm going to read it to Shireen and you can listen to, listener. That's the advantage of podcasting as a format. This week, I have a story I'm really excited about. This is a story that has been on my mind since it was written, probably about five years

ago or so it's quite the compliment yeah no it's it's a it's a neat it's an interesting idea and i'm excited to talk to you about it at the end it is a a story that reimagines prison in an anarchist society beautiful can't wait and it was written for us well it wasn't written for us but it was written by laurie penny laurie penny is a journalist author and screenwriter they can be found on twitter at penny red instagram at laurie penny and substack at laurie penny this story is called the house of surrender and it was first published by a German magazine, actually in German. It was published in translation before it was published in English by Der Freitag, which I don't know anything about. I don't even know what that means.

Sounds badass, though, just by nature. I know. Sounding like that and having the word die. Yeah. No, it's der. It's der. Oh, neither way. I don't even know the difference between die and der i uh

and if you do know the difference don't write me about it i could i could look it up if i wanted to know but the story is really good the house of surrender by laurie penny not far from here and many lifetimes journey away there is is a place called Sanctuary, where they grow almonds and avocados, and the weather is a perpetual late spring. The town and its hundred thousand happy folk are watered by a wide, gray, treacherous river, and in that river is an island where no trees grow, and on that island is a house unlike any other. It has many names, but the people of Sanctuary have forgotten them. They call it the House of Surrender. To get to the House of Surrender, you must cross the Gray River,

although there are few boat captains brave enough to make the crossing. Not for all the gold and silver in your purse. The river is full of hidden currents and sudden whirlpools that appear to suck down unseasoned swimmers and sailors to an icy grave in the grimy water. And besides, nobody has used money in sanctuary for a century and more. The people of this town take what they need and give what they can in answer to no ruler but the common good.

So there is no law to compel any sailor to take you to the island and the river where no trees grow. If one of them takes pity, you may pay your passage with a promise, a gift, or a secret, although those who travel to the House of Surrender have too many of those and precious few worth sharing. Pull yourself up to the jetty and climb the steps into the cliffs. Walk half a mile over the rocks and you'll find the house. Its walls are thick stone. Whether that's to protect those inside from the outside world, or whether it might be the other way around,

is a question nobody here cares to answer. The heavy doors are not locked. Walk the halls. Nobody's going to stop you. Here, you will find the worst and the weirdest of men and women, strange and dangerous creatures who cannot live among their fellow humans, or else their fellow humans will not have them. This one is a rapist.

That one poisoned her husband and infants in a fit of madness after the twins were born. This one beat his wife until the teeth flew from her head. That one cheated his neighbors of all their harvest until the children sickened and starved. Had they stayed in the sanctuary, these people would have had to face their neighbor's justice. Instead, they come to the house of surrender, where nobody will harm them, and they can reflect on their transgressions in all the safety stone walls can offer, which is less than you'd think, as most of them bring the terror with them across the Gray River. In my two score years as

warden of this place, I have known them all, the wicked and the warped, the tortured and the repentant, and those too far beyond the sphere of decency to contemplate redemption. But none were as strange as Robert Schmidt. And you know what else is strange, Shireen? It's strange that we have to beg for money. That's what's strange. It is. Yeah. But don't worry, we're not begging for your money.

Unless you want to subscribe to Coolers on Media. That plug is brilliant. We're begging for the money from the following advertisers, which you can press forward a bunch of times to get to the rest of the story. Hey guys, I'm Kate Max. You might know me from my popular online series, The Running Interview Show, where I run with celebrities, athletes, entrepreneurs, and more. After those runs, the conversations keep going. That's what my podcast, Post Run High, is all about. It's a

chance to sit down with my guests and dive even deeper into their stories, their journeys, and the thoughts that arise once we've hit the pavement together. You know that rush of endorphins you feel after a great workout? Well, that's when the real magic happens. So if you love hearing real, inspiring stories from the people you know, follow, and admire, join me every week for Post Run High. It's where we take the conversation beyond the run and get into the heart of it all it's light-hearted pretty crazy and very fun listen to post run high on the iHeartRadio app apple podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts hi i'm ed zitron host of

the better offline podcast and we're kicking off our second season digging into how tech's elite has turned Silicon Valley into a playground for billionaires. From the chaotic world of generative AI to the destruction of Google search, Better Offline is your unvarnished and at times unhinged look at the underbelly of tech from an industry veteran with nothing to lose. This season, I'm going to be joined by everyone

from Nobel-winning economists to leading journalists in the field, and I'll be digging into why the products you love keep getting worse and naming and shaming those responsible. Don't get me wrong, though. I love technology. I just hate the people in charge and want them to get back to building things that actually do things to help real people. I swear to God things can change if we're loud enough, So join me every week to understand what's happening in the tech industry and what could be done to make things better. Listen to Better Offline on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever else you get your podcasts. Check out betteroffline.com.

On Thanksgiving Day, 1999, a five-year-old boy floated alone in the ocean. He had lost his mother trying to reach Florida from Cuba. He looked like a little angel. I mean, he looked so fresh. And his name, Elian Gonzalez, will make headlines everywhere. Elian Gonzalez. Elian Gonzalez. Elian. Elian.

Elian Gonzalez. At the heart of the story is a young boy and the question of who he belongs with. His father in Cuba. Mr. Gonzalez wanted to go home and he wanted to take his son with him. Or his relatives in Miami. Imagine that your mother died trying to get you to freedom. At the heart of it all is still this painful family separation. Something that as a Cuban, I know all too well.

Listen to Chess Peace, the Elian Gonzalez story as part of the My Cultura podcast network available on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. And we're back. He arrived one cold June morning, courtesy of a boatswain who had been too shocked at his appearance and obvious distress to consider turning him down when he begged passage. The coins he offered her, which he also tried to press upon me, were as strange as he was. Different shapes and shades of corrosive metal all emblazoned with the faces of stern men,

great buildings and motifs of war and conquest that were chilling to look at, though I did not look away. I took one as a gift, a silver that he said was called a quarter, although its shape was perfectly round. He was a thin, frayed string of a man, this Schmidt, his skin pale as boiled fish, so much that anyone who saw him knew that he had come from far away. That was all we knew at first,

as he would not speak to us beyond demanding to be released, and no records could be found of his birth or previous life, only the report we had received from the assembly of the village that sent him here. We took him to room 14, where he yelled for three hours. First, he yelled to be released. Then he yelled, in his strange foreign accent, for his mother. Then he just yelled. I could hear the screaming from down the corridor as I went over the morning's reports. I gritted my teeth at the dumb beast noise and decided to do something about it.

The corridors of the main asylum were light and airy, even on a cold winter morning with the sun floundering in an ash-gray sky. Below the wide wooden walkways, some of the other wardens were setting out bowls and spoons in the communal area, ready for breakfast. The murderer, in room 13, put his head up to the grill of his cell as I passed. Can you ask him to stop? He whispered. I'll try, I promised. Do you want music? The murderer, who had strangled his own brother in a rage 20 years ago, nodded hard. Yes, he did want music. I fingered my tablet. A few seconds later, a gentle, rhythmic tune started spooling from the speaker in the corner of his cell. He smiled and closed his eyes and started to rock gently back and forth on his sleeping palette.

I took a deep breath in front of the door to room 14. Then I pounded on the grill. That's enough, I yelled. You're upsetting your blockmates. If you don't control yourself, there will be consequences. The screaming stopped. Two blissful seconds of quiet, heavy breathing. Let me the fuck out of here, Schmidt said.

You people have no idea the mistake you're making. I'm sure there's been no mistake, I said. But people have no idea the mistake you're making. I'm sure there's been no mistake, I said, but if you've got an issue to raise, why don't you talk to me or one of the other wardens about it instead of screaming? I heard a shuffling noise as Schmidt dragged himself up to the speaking hatch. Then his face appeared. I stepped back, alarm fisting through my guts. I had forgotten quite how strange-looking this Schmidt truly was with his wild beard and ice-blue eyes. I don't know why I'm being kept here, he said in his languid, long-ago accent,

but when someone works out who I am, you're going to be in a world of trouble, so I suggest you open this door right now if you value your job. I can't open the door, I said. On whose authority am I kept here? I was truly confused. Where did this man come from to ask such a thing? On nobody's authority, I said. Nobody has the authority to keep you here against your will. You chose to come here for your own safety and others. Then why am I locked in? You aren't locked in. I can't open the door because it locks from the inside. If you want to get out, you have to unlock it yourself. You're lying.

There's a bolt underneath the door and another one up top. They're a little stiff sometimes, but I promise you, you're free to leave. I must warn you, though, I said a little louder, that if you try to harm me or anyone else in this building, I'm going to have to use my shock stick on you, and I don't want to do that. Silence. Then the slow, resentful thunk, thunk of two bolts drawing back. Can I come in? I said. Silence. My name is Gorman Rain, I said. I'd like to come in and talk with you, but I need to know you're

not going to attack me, because I don't want to have to hurt you. It has been a pleasant morning so far, and I don't want to end it with your vital fluids on my shoes. Come in if you want. I came in and sucked in a breath through my teeth. The man in room 14 had overturned all his furniture and thrown his food tray across the room. There were dabs of blood on the wall where he'd been pounding. He sat curled like a question mark in one bare corner.

Is there any way I can help? I asked. I need you to tell them, he said, but I haven't done anything wrong. If there's been a misunderstanding, I'm sure you can explain yourself, I said, but there's rarely misunderstanding in cases like yours. What reason, after all, would the girl have had to lie? I could see that Schmidt was going to be difficult to reach. Do you even know who I am? Only what you told us and what you told the people of the village you came from.

Your name is Robert Schmidt. You say you are a scientist, but there are no records of where you practiced or where you were born. I'm from here, Schmidt said. I'm from here, 330 years ago. I took a deep breath. So how did you come to be here now, I asked. In a time machine. I am a scientist. Well, a researcher. It's one of the first multi-century journeys my lab has made, and I need to be allowed back to the place I came through. Why? So I can tell them it worked. I asked a junior warden to keep a subtle eye on Schmidt for the next few days to check that he wasn't hurting himself.

Inside, I was cursing my own foolishness. I had clearly made a mistake in my initial diagnosis. I had assumed that Schmidt was merely uneducated and lacking in empathy. He appeared, instead, to be quite mad. I wanted to help him, this young man. I wanted to know the ghosts that haunted him so that together we might banish them and find him some measure of peace. I am old and in 40 years I have tended to so many lost creatures on this abstemious rock and most I have been able to stretch out a hand to, though not all come here hoping for peace. My place is not to judge them, but to help them, to protect them, whatever harm they have done in the lives they left behind.

This is my work, has been the work of my life since I came here on my own rickety midnight boat so long ago. To reach the unreachable with soft words and offer them a bridge back to the world. I felt certain that however Schmidt had transgressed, however mangled his mind by suffering I could not guess at, I could help him. Perhaps I was arrogant, I see that now. But there was more. What I did not, could not admit to myself, was that Schmidt frightened me. And the most frightening prospect was the idea, remote but impossible not to consider when you looked at that strange white face, heard that odd high voice, that he might be telling the truth. The next day, I returned to speak to Schmidt. I brought fresh rolls and coffee, and we took breakfast together. He had restored

order to his room during the night, and perhaps it was in repentance for his previous rudeness that he answered almost immediately when I asked if he was feeling better. I'm not crazy, he said. You must see that. It's not my place to pass judgment on how you see the world, I said, which was quite true. I'm merely anxious that you cause no further harm to yourself or any other citizen. I'm not like the lunatics in here, he said. I didn't even hurt that girl. It was a misunderstanding. They say you violated her autonomy, I said. They sent a report.

It wasn't like that, he said. He was looking away from me and eviscerating his role with his hands. Besides, it seems so primitive here. I assumed... I don't know what I assumed. He started in on a second roll. I suppose I was excited to be in a new place. That night, I reread the report that had arrived with Schmidt on the solar tablet I reserved for official communications.

It was long enough that the village assembly had clearly thought it important to inform the House of the full facts. He came to us in the last week of May, it ran. He appeared at the door of a farmstead, badly bleeding and disoriented. The people of the house, after they tended his wounds, brought him to the town square, where he explained that he was a traveler from another time. We have heard news of such things happening, but we would not have given them credit if it were not for the strangeness of his behavior. Schmidt was from the start rude and unsocial, which was put down at first to his evident foreignness. He insisted on being brought to the head of our community, and it took some

time to explain to him that no such position exists. He thinks in an extremely hierarchical manner, and though he claims to be a scientist, he cannot seem to credit the evidence of his own senses. For this reason, many of our young people remain convinced that he was playing a practical joke on us. Schmidt spent a great deal of time in the tavern and also in the library as his strength returned, taking notes on parchment which he used freely from the central stocks, apparently unaware of its great expense. He was from the start dismissive and unsocial towards the female and non-binary among us, seemingly unable to hold true conversation with them.

One of our young men offered to have intercourse with him, at which point he became angry and violent. The young man was injured, and Schmidt had to be restrained. One young woman in our research team took an interest in Schmidt's work, gifting him freely with her time and attention to help further his studies. She reported to us that he woke to find a drunken Schmidt attempting to have intercourse with her. She communicated clearly that she did not want to be part of intercourse with him, but he did not appear to understand. In his culture, a signal of interest by a woman permits the man to use her body

to relieve himself of his need at any time thereafter, and this is what Schmidt proceeded to do, using his strength to force her body to relieve himself of his need at any time thereafter. And this is what Schmidt proceeded to do, using his strength to force her submission. Thereafter, I clicked the tablet shut. I had read enough. Schmidt had clearly fooled this rural assembly into accepting his wild story of time travel to avoid taking responsibility for his own empathetic defects. He would not fool me. I would reach him, even if I was determined not to be reached. After reading that, I don't really want to make a snarky ad pivot, so I'll make a regular ad pivot.

Hey guys, I'm Kate Max. You might know me from my popular online series, The Running Interview Show, where I run with celebrities, athletes, entrepreneurs, and more. After those runs, the conversations keep going. That's what my podcast, Post Run High, is all about. It's a chance to sit down with my guests and dive even deeper into their stories, their journeys, and the thoughts that arise once we've hit the pavement together. You know that rush of endorphins you feel after a great workout? Well, that's when the real magic happens. So if you love hearing real, inspiring stories from the people you know, follow, and admire, join me every week for Post Run High.

It's where we take the conversation beyond the run and get into the heart of it all. It's lighthearted, pretty crazy, and very fun. Listen to Post Run High on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hi, I'm Ed Zitron, host of the Better Offline podcast, and we're kicking off our second season digging into how tech's elite

has turned Silicon Valley into a playground for billionaires. From the chaotic world of generative AI to the destruction of Google search, Better Offline is your unvarnished and at times unhinged look at the underbelly of tech from an industry veteran with nothing to lose. This season, I'm going to be joined by everyone from Nobel-winning economists to leading journalists in the field,

and I'll be digging into why the products you love keep getting worse and naming and shaming those responsible. Don't get me wrong, though. I love technology. I just hate the people in charge and want them to get back to building things that actually do things to help real people. I swear to God things can change if we're loud enough. So join me every week to understand what's happening in the tech industry

and what could be done to make things better. Listen to Better Offline on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever else you get your podcasts. Check out betteroffline.com. On Thanksgiving Day 1999, a five-year-old boy floated alone in the ocean. He had lost his mother trying to reach Florida from Cuba. He looked like a little angel. I mean, he looked so fresh.

And his name, Elian Gonzalez, will make headlines everywhere. Elian Gonzalez. Elian. Elian. Elian. Elian. Elian. Elian Gonzalez.

Elian Gonzalez. Elian. Elian. Elian. Elian. Elian Gonzalez. At the heart of the story is a young boy and the question of who he belongs with. His father in Cuba. Mr. Gonzalez wanted to go home and he wanted to take his son with him.

Or his relatives in Miami. Imagine that your mother died trying to get you to freedom. At the heart of it all is still this painful family separation. Something that as a Cuban, I know all too well. Listen to Chess Peace, the Elian Gonzalez story, as part of the My Cultura podcast network, available on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

And we're back. It was autumn and high harvest, the time when everyone with the strength and skill to farm lends themselves to the almond groves. A fresh breeze trembled from the plantations and I longed to be among them to drink hot cider and taste roasted almonds at the evening celebrations after the gathering in, but I have not joined the harvest since I came here to work at the House of Surrender. No one could compel me to stay away just as no one could force people of the town to bring in the fruit before it rots on the trees.

There is an awkwardness, though, among those who know my duties. Sanctuary is not a large community, and after a while everyone's business is the subject of common gossip. Instead, I walked about the grounds of Schmidt, sometimes talking, more often in silence. We had come to an agreement. For the time being, he would stop demanding to be released and complaining that he did not belong here, and in return I would behave as if I believed his time travel story. In truth, I was not sure whether he believed it himself.

Still, I allowed him to question me as if he were truly from a long ago world with laws and customs alien to our own. Why do you do this, he asked me once. Why do you work here if you don't have to work at all? Most people work if they can, I said. We do the work we feel we're best suited to. There can't be a lot of applications for this place, said Schmidt. Not too many, I admitted. It takes a certain mindset.

Most people worry about being around antisocial, violent individuals all day. Don't you? I closed my eyes, looked down at my broad, blunt hands. So much like my father's, though I have kept myself from using them to hurt another human being. Of course, I said. But even more, I believe that those who can't live with others need a place to go. Rehabilitation, if it's possible. Asylum, if it isn't.

What about justice? What about it? For the real monsters here, not like me, the murderers, their victims, and their families, won't they want to see them punished? Perhaps. But would that bring their loved ones back? That's not the point. Then what is the point? Sometimes the families will demand amends. Sometimes when the inmates return to their communities, they work the lands of those they have wronged or find some other way to prove themselves reformed. And if they don't, then they lead very lonely lives

or they come back here. And you think that's acceptable. Most people think being shut out of the community is punishment enough. Otherwise, we're no better than... Than me? I held his eyes. Then the world you're from, yes.

Schmidt was certainly from another world, if only in spirit. You think you're better than me? No, I said. I think you can be better than you are. What if I don't want to be? Visitors, especially official ones, are an unusual event on the island. So when a science history counselor from Sanctuary itself arrived by a barge, along with not one but two assistants, I knew that the matter was of the utmost importance.

I'm here about Schmidt, said the counselor, whose name was Sophia. She wore well-cut overalls and could not have been more than 35, but she wore her hair in the half-shave style traditionally adopted by those who have already rotated through their senior levels of the science councils and have the authority of learning. Thank you for coming all this way, I said, pouring coffee for us both. Not at all. Robert Schmidt is of great interest to the science council. I had been hoping to make a personal visit.

Is he settling in well? We had some problems Science Council, I had been hoping to make a personal visit. Is he settling in well? We had some problems at first, I said. He claims that he is no foreigner, but is in fact from here, many centuries ago. He does not seem delusional, merely troubled. It's perfectly true, said the counselor. It's been happening more and more, these people arriving from the first era of time jump technology, back when there were no guidelines. I felt a bubble of excitement expanding beneath my ribcage and buried my face in my coffee mug to contain it. Schmidt is the first from his time to appear on the West Coast, however, said Sophia.

We were dismayed to learn that he has been obliged to surrender, Sophia continued. Dismayed, but not surprised. The time from which he comes, well, there was a great deal of savagery. He does not seem like a savage man, I said. After he learned he was free to leave, I found him courteous, if a little strange. Have you begun his therapy? Yes, I said. He's very receptive, although still in deep denial of why he had to come here. That's to be expected, said Sophia. The moral codes of his culture were very different from ours.

She pursed her lips over the coffee cup. As a young man, I might have desired her greatly, a woman of such wit and elegance. I reprimanded myself for thinking such coarse thoughts about someone who was, however briefly, my superior. A decadent society she went on, her bright black eyes holding my superior. A decadent society she went on, her bright black eyes holding my own. A violent, authoritarian world of class, racial, and sex hierarchies. A culture that drove itself

to destruction in pursuit of profit for the very few. We can't just understand it through the lens of our own society. I nodded. Now that I had been given permission to believe Schmidt, it all made sense. That, in fact, is the substance of our visit, said Sophia. Schmidt could help us a great deal in understanding the culture and technology of his time, but for his safety we feel, the council feels, that it would be better for all concerned if Schmidt were to remain here in the House of Surrender on a permanent basis. Are you saying that Schmidt is in danger? I'm saying that Schmidt is dangerous, and there are people who would, if it came to it, judge him too dangerous to live as part of this society.

Because of what he did? Because of what he is, said Sophia. Through no fault of his own, he happens to come from the most frightening place imaginable. What place is that? The past. I was silent. You must ensure, she said, that Schmidt does not come to any harm. Break the news to him gently. Can he not be returned to his time, I asked. Impossible, said Sophia. We cannot return a time traveler to a culture without any sense of the common good. His leader set the future on fire before the first leap engine was even in use. Who's to say he wouldn't do the same? He needs to be kept somewhere out of the way,

or who knows what he'll do. Or, I thought, what he might do to himself. When I told Schmidt that he would not be allowed to return to his own time, he said nothing. He did not rage or argue as I would have expected. Instead, he locked his door and did not emerge for three days. Eventually have expected. Instead, he locked his door and did not emerge for three days. Eventually, I had the guards break down the door. There was blood everywhere. He had tried to open his wrists with a broken spoon and failed. He cannot bring himself to

end his life, not alone. I understand now, he kept saying. That was all he said, poor soul. There could never be peace for him here. I wrote to the Science History Council, but received no reply. So, I have made my decision. Tonight, I will go to room 14 and bring Schmidt his supper in person. We will eat together and talk together, and in the course of our conversation, I will mention, casually, the small cove hidden between the rocks on the north side of the Bear Island, where I keep my own boat. The boat that took me here 40 years ago when I came

to this place to surrender, after I woke in the night to find my hands, the thick, blunt hands I had for my father, closing around my lover's neck. I had planned to return one day, when I could be sure that I was old and frail enough to be of no more danger to anyone I cherished. Now I know that I will never leave this place. Schmidt, though, will choose what he will choose. Perhaps he will go down to the cove and take the boat out onto the gray river and cast out on its treacherous waters all alone towards the land. And perhaps the currents will not pull him down, and perhaps the people of Sanctuary will spare him,

or perhaps they will give him what he could not give himself, not forgiveness, redemption. They will know, of course, and they will want to come for me, but what can they do? I will take my bunch of keys and find a door to lock behind me. There are always more rooms in the House of Surrender. That's the story. It's done now.

Wow. I almost didn't want it to end. I feel like that's such a rich world to... Haha, pun. But no, I mean, it's such a interesting world I would have liked to have been in for a little longer. I know. I hope Laurie writes more in this world.

I mean, what incredible writing. I can't stop thinking about skin described as boiled fish. Like, that is just so good. Right? Wow. No, I really no I really like that I mean I love sci-fi and I love like subtle sci-fi if that makes sense it's not like over the top it's more just like

oh this kind of sounds like it can happen yeah I really like that a good twist at the end with the main character having like also gone him taken himself to the house of surrender i thought that was totally a good way to to close but yeah i mean like the story's been on my mind like off and on for so long just because the central concept this idea of like the prison with the locks on the inside you know um as like like i don't i'm not advocating this but i'm not not

advocating this it's just a really interesting concept of like well what do you do with people who people very justly want to hurt if they choose to they can choose to be safe and away from those people who want to hurt them you know in this like sort of exile place yeah yeah no i um i'll be honest when when that i first heard the line of like the locks are in the inside i had a had a feeling it was going to be this like mental thing, like an existential, like a, like a,

you know what I mean? Like I thought it was going to be more like, I want to know what the word is, like the metaphorical or something, but it's literal. And I, and I think you make a good point because there is this huge question of like rehabilitation versus like being ostracized.

And like, what hope do we have if like people are unable to be rehabilitated back into society or if they don't even like it's just like there's so many questions when it comes to the proper way to execute whatever the hell justice is yeah but no i'm glad it was like an actual literal way of it was like the prison of your mind it's actually just like it's an actual no totally prison with locks on the prison of your mind it's actually just like it's an actual no totally prison with locks on the inside yeah it is it's it's it's a fascinating concept because i think as advanced as we think we are we're extremely primitive in a lot of ways like when

you think it's just like more shiny like we it's like we have like a fancier version of the guillotine but it's still a guillotine you know what i mean it's just like uh i don't know humans are really not as clever as i think they are but and i really like that it's showing that like one of the things that has evolved in the future is specifically like social norms right like like you know the time travel part of the story is necessary it's like not i mean it's a time travel story but it's not it's also not a time travel story it's a way to say like something that is normal in our society is sexual assault and rape right it is completely normalized and so here's someone who's doing something that like he's not from a time where that's

what he did was wrong you know he's probably done it a million times before yeah gone about his life and so like the ability to look at that from a you know future perspective of being like whoa can you believe that this was normalized the way that like you know there's lots of things in the past that were normalized that aren't good yeah and back then it was very normal to have like a slave even like anything that's like now it's just like we would never it's like well at a time people were not batting an eye yeah but i do i did wonder about that gap the the centuries in between schmidt's time and was that his name schmidt yeah schmidt yeah i was wondering about the gap between like the centuries between his time and the time he jumped to like how society had to have

changed and the processes it had to have gone through or even the idea that like time travel was like disbelieved by a lot of people so like maybe they stepped away from technology like all this stuff where it's just like what is the answer for our actual progress and actual progression as like a species yeah yeah it's kind of like those like missing centuries in star trek which they they later go back and describe but there's like the like earth sucked and then we figured out space communism exactly you know yeah and then one of the other things that i really like about laurie's writing i'll go out and um there's a book that laurie wrote a novella is published by tour.com the same publisher who put out my novella that the beginning of book club opened with and it's called everything belongs to the future and

it's um another like anarchist sci-fi novella that but one of the things that laurie does that like really impresses me but sometimes also like drives me crazy as a reader is that they like protagonizing real problematic people you know like the protagonist of this story is a murderer and the the main character that they're talking about is a rapist you know and it's like i'm too nervous of a writer to like touch that shit as like i mean i'll write about characters who act like that but it's like it's it's impressive to write from those perspectives and especially to do it in ways that don't just do it in like shitty edgelord ways where it's like ha ha ha my hero's a bad guy you yeah yeah so yeah that's a good point it is a complex characters are always the most interesting but that's like a different level of like oh this

person actually did a terrible thing do you still root for them do you still think they're as interesting as they were 10 pages ago i don't know um but i mean for this story it feels like it works only because it's talking about this idea of rehabilitating yourself and like choosing to step away until you think you are ready to re-enter society and if maybe that never happens so yeah yeah i don't know i mean i feel like there are lines that are more egregious than others at least in my mind like for whatever reason I

like murder is more digestible than like hurting a child or something you know what I mean so I wonder the degrees of like what someone can accept a character to be for something like this or just like in general,

when you have a protagonist that's like really complicated. Yeah. I don't know. Something to think about. Yeah. No, absolutely. Yeah. That's why I play it safe. Not such a, I mean, I don't always play it safe with my writing, but I don't know. It's just a piece that I mean, it's ballsy. It's really, I mean, I want to use a different word for that. It's gutsy. Yeah. I mean, it's ballsy. It's really, I mean, I want to use a different word for that. It's gutsy. Yeah.

It is. Yeah. No, I'm glad I was the audience for this one. That was, I mean, I'm going to think about it for a long time now too. The prison of your mind. No, I'm just kidding. I know it was real. Okay.

But then like, I mean, one of the things that strikes me about it when you're pointing that out, I'm under the impression, I haven't done a whole research episode about this yet, because the Quakers are often the heroes of the episodes that I do because they're some of the only white people in slavery era United States that would die to free people from slavery. They're also who brought us the modern prison system because the concept of the penitentiary is a place to go be penitent, a place to go be by yourself and learn what you did is wrong. And so in a way, this is like recreating that. But it is a fundamental difference when you're saying which side of the door the lock is on matters so much. It really does it's like an adult time out but you're in charge of your time out yeah uh but like it sounds like not everyone i mean he doesn't know because he's not from that time but like what if a lot of people don't know that they're capable of unlocking it you know what i mean like what if they're just like it's something they've forgotten or just like they've condemned themselves to just feel like oh i can't get out and or i don't i don't know i don't know if that makes sense i just think it's like uh how much of it is like self-condemnation versus

just kind of accepting yourself for being like on the outskirts of society. I don't know. Yeah. I don't know. I don't know if that makes sense. I'm going to be thinking about it for a long time. I will, I will,

I will say that. Yeah. Um, fair enough. But I think, I think time travel is dangerous as a takeaway. Don't do it folks. Yeah.

Yeah. We should, we should advance to that point. I think we should step away when we come to a time machine. Just, yeah. You wouldn't go back back would you go forward or back in time i would go forward only because i'm so curious not even just that i think it's gonna be worse if i'm being honest but that's the pessimist in me but i also i'm just so curious how it's going to all turn out and like what happens if we make it to space and like what if there's other like

aliens or whatever it is I'm just so curious about the times that are going to happen when I'm not here it must be I don't know like centuries ago no one would have guessed where we are now like they probably couldn't even dream up

of this world yeah so i'm sure it's something like that where you can't even dream it up i don't know that's actually that kind of blows my mind because i'm like oh i could be like this could be like that and like oh right we're not capable of successfully imagining you know yeah we're not going to go forward and it's not just going to be magically Star Trek or Firefly or whatever. Yeah. But I don't know how to transition this to plugs. You got anything to plug? Yes. Let's talk about where you can find me in the future. Sorry. That was my attempt. I appreciate it. I'm Shireen. Shirohero on Instagram and shirohero666 on twitter i'm also one of the hosts of it could happen here also on cool zone and yeah listen to cool people who do cool stuff which i also help produce yeah it's also a nice one so if you're listening to this on one of the podcast

feeds go listen to what's on the other podcast feed mine is history and shereen's is current events and history because it's everything and we'll be back next sunday with another book club episode i almost said cool person who does cool stuff but that's not what's happening i'm just gonna hang up now bye done hang up it could happen here as a production of Cool Zone Media. For more podcasts from Cool Zone Media, visit our website, coolzonemedia.com, or check us out on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts. You can find sources for It Could Happen Here updated monthly at coolzonemedia.com slash sources. Thanks for listening. Hey, guys. I'm Kate Max.

You might know me from my popular online series, The Running Interview Show, where I run with celebrities, athletes, entrepreneurs, and more. After those runs, the conversations keep going. That's what my podcast, Post Run High, is all about. It's a chance to sit down with my guests and dive even deeper into their stories, their journeys and the thoughts that arise once we've hit the pavement together. Listen to Post Run High on the iHeartRadio app, Apple podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts. Hi, I'm Ed Zittron, host of the Better Offline podcast, and we're kicking off our second season digging into tech's elite and how they've turned Silicon Valley

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