A Change Of Scene

"'Phil!' she shouted. Ah, Arinnian thought. Indeed. The next betrayal.


"'At ease, Lieutenant. Sit down.'"
 -Poul Anderson, Rise Of The Terran Empire (New York, 2011), p. 618.

What a marvelous device in drama and prose fiction is the change of scene. Hrill shouts "Phil!" and Arinnian thinks, "...betrayal," because they have just heard Philippe Rochefort escaping from Avalon in a stolen spaceship. Admiral Cajal says, "At ease..." because, hours later, Rochefort stands before him. A double space between paragraphs informs the reader that there has been what we have come to know and recognize as "a change of scene."

There is no such phenomenon in reality. I cannot start to walk towards Lancaster railway station, then, by virtue of an instant "change of scene," be greeted by a friend as I arrive at Birmingham railway station. But Rochefort does not experience any instantaneous transportation either. Between departing Avalon and meeting Cajal, he has:

traveled through space;
rejoined the Terran fleet;
been identified, interrogated and hypnoprobed;
made statements that, we learn, have been recorded, transcribed and read by the Admiral;
maybe eaten, slept and waited;
received an unexpected invitation to meet the Admiral.

Cajal refers to statements and hypnoprobing and Rochefort refers to interrogators. Thus, we know some of what has happened. Thus also, the "change of scene" exists neither in our world nor in Rochefort's but only at the narrative interface. The reader alone enjoys this privileged perspective. We skip the tedium, proceeding directly from a dramatic escape to its strategic consequences. And we take this for granted, rarely reflecting that narrative techniques like point of view and change of scene have had to be refined by generations of fiction writers.