Not all authors who write science fiction are themselves scientists, and that’s the case with me as well. Many of
us do have a scientific background, however. As a child I loved watching documentaries on TV, and since I grew
up on the border I wasn’t limited to PBS. Canadian stations like the CBC had their own programming to offer, and
also aired BBC productions as well. That’s where my interest in science began. By the time I was an adolescent I
was convinced that we had to develop nuclear fusion technology soon, since it’s our greatest hope for creating a
limitless, sustainable, and non-polluting energy source. I entered the University of Michigan’s Nuclear Engineering
program in hopes of engaging in such research, but became disillusioned with what was expected of me before I
got to that point. I was told that in order to get involved in such a research program one had to “prove oneself,”
first by working in the dangerous nuclear fission power industry or for the Defense Department designing warheads.
Both of those options struck me as highly unethical, especially in light of something else I was studying at the time.
Parallel to my fascination with science I fostered an interest in world religions, as I believe that understanding other
faiths is crucial for attaining meaningful cooperation and peace on a global level. In college I took an intensive course
on Buddhism, and was struck by one concept in particular: right livelihood. It’s part of the Eightfold Path, the method
that Buddha taught to help others live more ethically in order to attain enlightenment. The principle of right livelihood
basically states that it is wrong to make a living in a way that causes suffering to other forms of life—people or the
planet. When I began to reflect on how much suffering a career in Nuclear Engineering could cause, I was appalled.
There was simply no way I could rationalize doing something so harmful with the hope of one day engaging in research
that might actually do some good. Buddhists believe that everything one does creates karma, so it was not a risk I
was willing to take. Sometimes in life, what we refuse to do is equally as important as what we choose to do. I told
the Dean how I felt, and he dismissed me from college.
Though I left the university, I did not abandon the principle of right livelihood. I took up a more benign career, one
that did not present such an ethical dilemma. I spent four years as an apprentice under a European master and
learned the art of tailoring. The fashion industry does have a dark side, but it is changing its ways. There’s been a
growing awareness of the injustice of sweatshop labor that’s forced many companies to improve working conditions
in developing nations. While more needs to be done, efforts of organizations like Behind The Label have been making
a difference. I’m also encouraged by the growing demand for clothing made of organic cotton, since harvesting cotton
the conventional way does a lot of harm to our environment. For the most part, it’s a far less destructive industry
than the nuclear one. Even the cruelty of fur and leather production has become so well-documented that many are
turning away from such products, proving that the choices we make do indeed have an impact on the business world.
Personally, I feel honored to be carrying a tradition as old as tailoring into the 21st century.
While my career changed, my interest in science remained. Science fiction felt like a natural choice for my first novel.
It seemed to be the best way to contribute to scientific debate with becoming personally involved with the very same
industries creating the problems we desperately need to solve. I’m sure, once you read World Without Winter (if you
haven’t already), you’ll see how the characters in the book are faced with similar ethical decisions to the one I had to
make in my own life. Authors often draw upon their own experiences when they write, so all fiction is autobiographical
to some extent. It’s merely a question of how much is drawn from real life and how much is pure imagination, though
it's always a mixture of the two. Where do I end and where does the fiction begin? The main character in my novel asks
himself a similar question during the course of the story. There’s no one right answer to that question. It’s a bit like the
disciple that asked the Buddha how he would know when he attained enlightenment. Each of us finds our own unique nirvana. It's not a “one size fits all” experience. The book follows the journey of one man on his own unique path, and
I hope that others can learn from the struggles he faces along the way. We all need to reevaluate our relationship with
the planet before it’s too late. If I’m able to help even one other person to do that, then I’ve done some good. And that
makes it all worthwhile.
Notes: All portraits on this page were taken by photographer Jim Cox, http://www.jimcox.net. They are copyrighted and
may not be duplicated without permission, which may be obtained by visiting the Contact the author section. The globe
pictured above is a topographical model which was handpainted by the author to illustrate what the world will look like
once the ice caps have melted. It's another way of depicting the World Without Winter, as is this web site, which was
also designed and created by author Steve Pierce.
