Alexander Gromov

Alexander Gromov (Алексáндр Грóмов) - is a Russian hard science fiction writer who began writing in 1986 impressed by works of Strugatsky brothers', his first publication having occurred in early 1990s.

Most of Gromov's novels combine a well-defined world created by the means of hard science fiction and a foreground of "social fiction", as the author explains it:

I still have to tell a couple of words about my works - not about each one, but about all of them. Most of the things I wrote can be considered social science fiction (not in the sense of "capitalism-socialism" - this topic does not interest me). The recipe of it, worked out by H.G.Wells, has not changed till the present day and looks like this: you take a socium (limited number of people is better - easier to work) and do some ugly thing to it, and then you sit and look at the consequences...

Of course I'm kidding, and let the shadow of the great writer forgive me. But every joke has a grain of truth... [1]

Also to be mentioned is Gromov's manner of writing, that is a high quality language(with a good "physical" picture of the world). His characters are not flat, they can evolve. In the text, remarks of socio-psychological kind(about people's nature, bosses, societies, etc.) are combined with intrinsic gloomy(not dark!) humour.

Gromov's books

Until now none of Gromov's novels are known to be translated into English. Yet the article will gain sense with few comments made on his books.

Softly landing the Humankind and admiring for a year Lemmings' heroic deaths

In future the Humankind faced simultaneously two catastrophic processes, that is global climate cooling(on a halfway to ice age) and unaccountable deep fall of IQ level of 70% of the population(the author called such people oakcephals). Probably the Humankind could survive any of these processes alone, but not the both ones.. Yet don't try to guess what was the end of the Humankind alike; it met the different fate; The flight of the humankind will interrupt, but it will be not be as an explosion, Sergey, people are afraid of it of no use... It will be as soft landing. A caprice of genes gave rise to a new biological branch of people, so-called adaptants, beings with different(less of) intelligence and better biological ability to survive. Adaptants usually weren't visually discernible from oakcephals; they parasitized on human society and acted as bands on the streets. At a moment(long after their first occurrence) adaptants increased their activity and ceased the existence of the Humankind in a couple of years..

Of course, this novel Myagkaya posadka (Soft landing) is not a cynical exercise in futurism. The main protagonist, Sergey, an university teacher of physics(that is electricity -- cold climate, a need for electrostations!) does live in that world of eternal snowy coldness. Although having no hope for future, Sergey doesn't stay actionless; the situation just doesn't leave him at rest.. Pictures of Sergey's life.. Testing oakcephals for knowledge of Kirchhoff and Ohm laws..

"Rybin, come here."

The slender youth, a kind of mentally-crushed. The face is good, the look is, no dumber possible. But it was he who solved the problem for an adaptant, otherwise i understand nothing in my profession and must be driven out. He isn't a nose, it's exact. And certainly not an adaptant. In my opinion, he even isn't an oakcephal.

"Right, answer."

The mentally-crushed one begins to explain, passing his finger, and griveously selecting the words. "A"'s and "m"'s. When there are synonims, he chooses the most idiotic one.

"Enough", i stop him, "Why don't you learn at the first stream?"

He stupidly winks, inserts a finger in his nose up to second phalange inclusive, and is flapping his mouth like an encatched carp. Overplays.

"Well it's enough, enough.", I say rigidly, "Played a bit, and that will do. For me all is clear. You don't want to be open, -- no need then. You are not a moron and occupy the place of other's. I will be obliged to report to the sorting committee about you."

I am not in the least joking and this reachs him. He sweeps away from face the stupid expression. Intimidation remains.

The false moron looks sideways behind his shoulder, fright on his face. I can't confuse real fright with faked one.

"You may speak,