Conversation with Matthew Gheorghe

Matthew Gheorghe is a Homo sapiens male, aged twenty-three revolutions around the Sun, classified under the phylum Chordata and the class Mammalia. His work can be found scribbled into journals such as Fraidy Cat Quarterly, pleading in unedited purgatory, and soiled in the water of the Gulf.

Matthew is the author of “The Outernaut” from Issue 11.

Q: The narrative’s horror is not just physical but relational, as we see a marriage disintegrating under the weight of transformation. Do you view “The Outernauts” as a love story, tragedy, or something more cynical?

The characters are embalmed in tragedy. While the setting and mechanism of the story are alien to modern technology, their love still decays as it has for millennia. Sacrifice and nostalgia, the future and the past, entrapment, all things that will remain inherent to humanity no matter the form it presents.

Q: “The Outernaut” oscillates between dense, almost medical precision and moments of dark comedy. How do you decide when to let absurdity bleed into the horror?

Absurdity is inherent in all forms of literature, but especially in horror. For the emotional beats of terror to resonate with the recipient, it cannot be torrential. The oscillation of humor to horror provides an exponential shift in emotional status that would otherwise logarithmically decline jump scare after jump scare . . .

This contrast is never intended from the beginning, as expectation dulls creativity, and is only refined over time. It’s important in my writing to let the story move where it must. If I am waiting on my chair, watching the cursor blink, it’s a sign that something isn’t working, and I drop any current intention. Each draft unearths a stone: some are rough, others lustrous, but it takes the chisel of editing to corner it into something King Henry VIII would behead his wife for.

Q: Do you think redemption is possible in a world where everything organic becomes synthetic?

Whether organic or synthetic, if the individual considers redemption to exist, and it yearns forward, it is possible. Whether information synapses across a neuron or capacitor, if the being is willing, it can be done.

Humanity is a dataset that has remained unmarred despite advancements in prosthetics and drugs. If there is a great enough change to regress man into a metronome of sense-data reactions, reacting without remembrance of what was before, then the object of redemption is moot, for the being cannot lose what it never had.

Q: “The Outernaut” blurs the line between the mechanical and the organic until they’re indistinguishable. What draws you to writing bodies that absorb technology? Or perhaps, technologies that develop bodies?

Having non-human entities engage in emotions and conflicts normally perceived as restricted to humans allows prior biases, censorship, and expectations to be minimized. The enigma of a relationship displayed by two robots tumbling through an oily river will force the reader to involve themselves in the conflict and have any conclusions reflected back in novel response. That same relationship represented by a married couple in a farmhouse tending sheep may lull the reader into typically presented arcs with prior conclusions on what the story will be.

Q: Tell us about the inspiration and development of your story?

The story evolved from the seed of why couldn’t a ship barreling through space be an organic manifestation rather than a steel-carapaced capsule? There are organisms on Earth that can withstand extreme temperature, radiation, and wormy bifurcation—why not a transportation device?

From there a conflict grew between the Outernaut and the Ship, and it seemed consistent that if technology could grow a ship, why not make it self-sustaining?

From there came the question: what better software than the human mind?

Q: Jules chose to become a technological device, giving up aspects of her humanity—a choice affecting her marriage to Beleren. What do you think about making sacrifices for the greater good?

Those who sacrifice for the perceived greater good must understand that the intended cause is not guaranteed. A sacrifice may be in vain, distorted, or harmful, but if the intention is in good faith, one may hold that as solace despite any unintended result.

Q: Is there a technological or scientific advance that you find especially troubling or inspiring?

As CRISPR-Cas9 technology improves, somatic and germline editing is an inevitability. Just as in-vitro-fertilization was lambasted by many in its introduction, it has dissolved into normalcy in across societies. It will begin in the curing of Mendelian diseases such as Cystic fibrosis and advance through diseases until it will be seen as unethical—in a genetically-engineered society— to not genetically alleviate and advance your children. It is up to each generation to ensure that it advances with the intention of providing the perceived good.

Q: Do you expect yourself to write more stories in the same vein as “The Outernaut” going forward?

Each story is a surprise, let us hope that each captures the honesty and risk that the previous had.