SF Bridge
BY SAMUEL PERALTA
“When you build a bridge, you build something for all time.”
— Joseph Strauss
In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, it took an exhausting journey along California’s coast line to get to or from San Francisco and the communities in Marin Country.
There was only one other way, and that was to take a ferry, such as the one run by Sausalito Land and Ferry Company, straight across the Bay.
The trip took a little over a half hour. On a clear day, for sightseers and visitors, that was a perfect time to sit back and take in the views at their leisure.
But at the time, served mainly by ferries to its neighboring cities, San Francisco’s growth rate remained stagnant, below the average of other large cities in America.
SF needed a bridge.
• • •
My whole life has been about telling stories—getting up on stage at an open mic to recite a poem, composing a narrative lyric for a song, presenting an engineering solution or start-up vision at a technical or shareholder meeting.
E-books became just another stage.
When I set foot in this brave new speculative-fiction world, spurred by the likes of Hugh Howey’s modern classic WOOL, I was amazed at the passion and ideas in the works of many so-called indie writers—and dismayed at how little readers knew about them.
Many readers still loved the classics—Isaac Asimov, Ray Bradbury, Robert Heinlein, Larry Niven—and you could get modern masters like Robert J. Sawyer, Ken Liu, and Julie Czerneda on the shelves of your big bookstore.
But for every Hugh Howey and Seanan McGuire who broke through the e-book barriers and finally reached hundreds of thousands of readers, there were scores of other excellent indie authors who remained unread by more than a handful of friends and family.
There must be a way to get all these unknown writers—myself included—into the real or electronic shelves of readers who didn’t know we existed.
The answer that found me was this: To invite stories from both new and established authors and collect them in an anthology with a theme that would appeal to readers.
That was how I became an accidental anthologist.
• • •
Many in San Francisco shared the same dream—the dream of constructing a bridge across the Bay.
But the waters were deep at the center crossing, and the Bay was marked by ferocious winds and currents, swirling tides, and a fog that threatened to make dangerous any construction project that dared to span the channel.
The office of the San Francisco City Engineer had estimated that the cost of building such a bridge would be $100 million—equivalent to $2.25 billion in 2017—and, therefore, not feasible. An article in the San Francisco Bulletin asked the question: Could it be built for less?
One of those who took up the challenge was an engineer and poet, Joseph Strauss. Already an experienced bridge-builder, Strauss estimated that a massive cantilever bridge connected by a suspension span could be constructed for some $17 million.
That was enough to light the fire under this project over all other plans that had come before.
The project was not without difficulties, and opposition came from many sources, including the ferry companies whose business would be challenged by such a bridge.
But there were many, many supporters for California’s 1923 Act that created the entity that was tasked with making the dream come alive—the Golden Gate Bridge District.
• • •
When I started the first of what would become the Future Chronicles anthologies, in a trilogy of works along with the series’ first editor, David Gatewood, I had a goal.
It was to span the distance between promising new voices in speculative fiction, and readers who loved the classic, more well-known authors.
The Future Chronicles, in carefully curated and themed volumes—such as The A.I. Chronicles, The Time Travel Chronicles, Alt.History 101, The Shapeshifter Chronicles, and Chronicle Worlds: Paradisi—put the spotlight on these voices and found a readership that was phenomenal in its devotion.
That was only the start.
The Chronicles were joined by an explosion of other independent anthologies, woven around space opera, clones, shared worlds… new bridges spanning the distance to connect with readers from every genre of speculative fiction.
• • •
In San Francisco, Joseph Strauss was joined by other brilliant engineers, including Leon Moisseiff, engineer of New York City’s Manhattan Bridge; Irving Morrow, who would design the overall shape of the towers and brought in the Art Deco elements; and Charles Alton Ellis, who became the principal engineer for the project, responsible for every calculation that would make the bridge last until today.
Beyond the key engineers, the effort to build the projected enlisted hundreds of workers, each tasked with a small part in the effort to raise the Golden Gate Bridge.
• • •
Here, in your hands, you hold At the Helm, a new anthology put together by a score of traditional and independent authors, every story a rivet in the span that is Sci-Fi Bridge, every single one the culmination—and the beginning—of someone’s dream.
Like the Golden Gate Bridge heralding San Francisco out of the fog, Sci-Fi Bridge hopes to helm a new age of discovery—of new stories, of new authors, of new readers.
• • •
I can only imagine what it felt like, being in the first car to cross San Francisco’s new bridge.
What an amazing feeling, starting at the foot of the bridge, looking out across the Bay, your hand on the ignition, ready to start the engine.
Spanning forty-two hundred feet, the Golden Gate Bridge stands today at twice the length of one of Star Trek’s Galaxy class starships.
It stands as a marker for the dream of hundreds of workers, a dream that continues today for the people of San Francisco.
Like the bridge of the starship Enterprise, it has become more than an edifice. It has become a symbol.
Sometime this year, in May 2017, we will mark the 80th anniversary of the Golden Gate, the most famous SF Bridge.
This anthology marks the birth of another.
Start the engines.
Warp factor one.
— Samuel Peralta