Speculative Fiction - Blog Posts

I recently started world-building for a new story idea (I know—bad when I'm supposed to be in the middle of revising my current project) and in trying to figure out the level of technology and feeling of my new world I got lost in google searches about the different punk genres.

So I decided to make a master list.

According to Wikipedia (a highly reputable source by all accounts) a punk genre can be described as “a world built on one particular technology that is extrapolated to a highly sophisticated level (this may even be a fantastical or anachronistic technology, akin to retro-futurism) a gritty transreal urban style, or a particular approach to social themes.”

There are so many (so so many) and some people roll their eyes at every new addition but I think the names and distinctions are interesting and fun (I mean, Magicpunk may just be regular fantasy, but it sounds so much cooler). I love the idea of scientific fantasy, and of blurry the lines between the sci-fi and fantasy genres. Who’s to stop you from mixing the culture of the Japanese samurai with an epic space opera in the stars?

This is an incomplete list. I've organized it by time period (loosely, because some overlap or can go anywhere). I've also provided an example of a published work (for those that have them).

Established Fantasy Punk Genres: An Incomplete List

Magicpunk/Dungeonpunk: Fantasy punk genre where the “one particular technology” that the world is build on is magic. You have trains running on lines of sorcerer-fueled energy and ships powered by wind magic and computers running on sub-dimensional energy from the demon realm. Popular examples include The Sleeping Dragon by Jonny Nexus and The War of the Flowers by Tad Williams.

Aetherpunk: Subgenre mix of Magicpunk/Dungeonpunk where the magic source of the technology is specifically the element of Aether. Often, if not always, also has Steampunk elements. The Aeronaut’s Windlass by Jim Butcher is the only example that comes to mind.

Mythpunk: A punk genre that is inspired by or incorporates myths and legends. These aren’t usually a retelling of a popular myth, but rather one that includes elements of the myth, or twists and changes the story around to it’s own ends. Popular examples would be American Gods by Neil Gaiman or Deathless by Catherynne Valente.

Stonepunk: Set in the stone age, this genre is characterized by the use of non-technology as technology, creating pseudo-tech and modern inventions with natural, basic resources like stone, wood, water, fire, clay, and rope. The Flintstones would be the best example.

Sandalpunk: Sandalpunk is on thin ice as a punk genre. Rather than being inspired or defined by a technology, it instead focuses on the period of time of the ancient world before the Middle Ages, often set in Greece or Rome. There aren’t many examples of it. But the name is cool.

Steampunk: Arguably the most popular punk genre (after Cyberpunk) featuring science fantasy stories set in Victorian era, with advanced technology powered by steam engines and clockwork mechanics. Doctor Who perhaps described it best, “The Victorian Age accelerated. Starships and missiles fueled by coal and driven by steam.” There are many examples, both in literature and film, including His Dark Materials by Phillip Pullman, Mortal Engines by Philip Reeves and The Parosol Protectorate by Gail Carriger.

Clockpunk: Close-cousin subgenre of Steampunk, characterized by a lot of clocks and inspired by the pre-steam energy period of the Renaissance and Baroque eras. Pasquale’s Angel by Paul J. McAuley is more Clockpunk than Steampunk.

Silkpunk: Silkpunk is another subgenre of Steampunk, one generation removed. While steampunk is defined by it’s Victorian era brass and steam aesthetic, Silkpunk is inspired by East Asian culture during the period of the Silk Road. Examples include The Dandelion Dynasty by Ken Liu and The Tea Master and The Detective by Aliette de Bodard.

Cattlepunk: Yet another subgenre of Steampunk, Cattlepunk is the across-the-ocean-bastard-cousin set in the wild west of early America. Cowboys, bank robberies, and train heists meet robots, warmechs, magic, and super-weapons. The Wild Wild West and Firefly verse are classic movie examples. Book examples would be the Mistborn Era II series by Brandon Sanderson and The Dark Tower series by Stephen King. (And I didn’t realize until I just did all this research but based on examples this is like my favorite punk.)

Dieselpunk: This genre is set in the aesthetic of the 1920s-1950s era and is characterized by the use of diesel-powered technology. Commonly incorporates alternate history elements, as well as themes surrounding the Great Depression and World War II. It’s been called the darker and dirtier version of Steampunk with an emphasis on air travel and combat, dirigibles, and air pirates. Examples include The Iroon Dream by Norman Spinrad, Dreadnough by Cherie Priest, and Pirate Utopia by Bruce Sterling.

Atompunk: A retro-futuristic punk genre set in during the Cold War and characterized by atomic nuclear technology, ray guns, robots, hover cars, and interdimensional travel. Atompunk often deals with the themes of nuclear power gone wrong and alternate versions of the Cold War. The most popular example of this would be the Fallout games by Bethesda.

Capepunk: Capepunk is just superhero fiction set in the modern-era world where people have powers. Example would be any superhero story ever. I just think the name’s cool.

Gothicpunk: Gothicpunk is also usually set in the modern-era, but incorporates The Goth. Generally characterized by an underworld of supernatural creatures lying in wait and secretly controlling the workings of our world where humans are but cattle. This is basically dark Urban Fantasy, but it’s popular enough to get a distinction. Anne Rice’s Interview With a Vampire is an okay example. The movies Priest and Daybreakers are much better ones.

Cyberpunk: Cyberpunk, the grandfather of all of the punk genres. Characterized by dystopian and cynical future world in which technology has brought about cultural nihilism and a crap society. Often combined with Film Noir or detective fiction. (Fantastic Noir is a fantasy version of Cyberpunk). Heroes are most prone to be some form of hacker, rebel, or antihero fight against a totalitarian police state or corporate empire oppressing the people. Examples Neuromancer by William Gibson and the movie Blade Runner.

Post-Cyberpunk: This is Cyberpunks chipper, more optimistic sibling. It has all of the vision of a scientifically advanced cyber-culture without the gritty, dark, and edgy world elements. It still share’s the Cyberpunk elements of analyzing how technology interacts and impacts with society, just without such a grimdark view of humanity. Examples would be Agent G by C.T. Phipps and The Peace War by Vernor Vinge.

Biopunk: Biopunk is Cyberpunks genetically engineered half-sibling. This punk centers around organic technology with a healthy smattering of bio-augmentation and biotechnology. Examples include In the Courts of the Crimson Kings by S.M. Stirling, West of Eden by Harry Harrison, and Wolfish Nature by Vladimir Vasilyev.

Nanopunk: Also a subgenre of Cyberpunk with characterized by the use of nanites and nanotechnology as the predominate form of technology. Examples are Tech Heaven by Linda Nagata and Micro by Michael Crichton.

Solarpunk: Solarpunk is a genre characterized by it’s environmentally friendly technology meshed with African and Asian cultures and an emphasis in community, art, and a bright solar future where humanity has found a balance between technology and nature. Can also include many elements of Biopunk, but with a much more optomistic, for-the-future-of-species-and-environment outlook. Example works include Zahrah the Windseeker by Nnedi Okorafor, Maurai by Poul Anderson, and Songs from the Stars by Norman Spinrad.

Apunkalypse: This genre is defined by the collapse of civilization where society is replaced by lawless bands of roving scavenger gangs or cities collapsing into decay or the rise of punks overthrows the rules of the past. Examples include Mad Max and Mortal Engines by Philip Reeves (which is also Steampunk, so it’s a good example of book incorporating more than one punk genre).

Desertpunk: Punk genre characterized by sand. Who doesn't love a good desert planet? Often features roaming tribes, wandering heroes, desert bandits, and sand storms. Can be combined with Cattlepunk, for a Western desert, or Apunkalypse, for an-after-the-end-of-the-world setting. Examples include Dune by Frank Herbert and Railsea by China Mieville.

Oceanpunk: This punk is set on the high seas. Often features floating cities of wood and iron lashed together and mighty nations fighting for dominion of the watery world and may also feature civilizations and cultures below the waves in underwater cities. Sometimes called Pirate Punk, because nothing breed pirate stories like ocean cities and sailing ships. Examples include The Scar by China Mieville, Tranquilium by Andrey Lazarchuk, and Dark Life by Kat Falls.

Megann Kammerman

The Fantasy Writer's Punk List

A master list of fantasy and science fiction punk genres for speculative fiction authors.

Did I Miss a Punk? Can you guys think of any other punks to add? Either ones you've thought up, or any you've heard of that I don't have listed. I'd love to keep this list updated. I find it's useful to look through when creating a new world to get the overall feeling of what I'm going for with the story and world-building.

What punk are you writing in for your current WIP?

The Punk-Factor of Punkpunk Genre

So, when I posted my history of Solarpunk, someone (probably not in good faith) asked: “So, what about the punk in all the other punk genres?!” towards my request to put the punk back into Solarpunk. And given that my autistic brain obviously cannot just let that stand… You know what? Let me talk about the other punk genre and in how far they are “punk”. I tried to be as exhaustive as possible, though there is a good chance, that I might have missed some of the punkpunk genre. So feel free to add.

Trying to judge the punkiness I do not assume punk as simple counter culture, but a specific ideology. Quote from Wikipedia:

[Punk ideology] is primarily concerned with concepts such as mutual aid, against selling out, hierarchy, white supremacy, authoritarianism, anti-consumerism, anti-corporatism, anti-war, imperialism, conservatism, anti-globalization, gentrification, anti-racism, anti-sexism, class and classism, gender equality, racial equality, eugenics, animal rights, free-thought and non-conformity

Most of the artwork here has been taken from concept art of either of the examples listed.

Sorted from most futuristic to pre(historic). Yes, the list is long.

Cyberpunk

We start with the OG punk genre, the one after which all other punk genre were named. Yes, you could argue that in fact the two genre following are more futuristic – but Cyberpunk kinda just had to start the list.

As a genre: Given that Cyberpunk had its start completely in literature it is the best defined in this regard. Taking place in a late stage capitalist dystopian world in which most is owned by megacorps who don’t follow anyone’s laws but their own, the protagonists usually are social outcasts fighting against their own oppression, trying to keep themselves alive in a world hostile to them. With cybernetics always being a core of the genre, it also tends to deal with the question of humanity in a “ship of Theseus” sort of way. How much can the human body be altered, before the human vanishes?

As an aesthetic: Cyberpunk is the most punk in terms of aesthetics, really. There is a lot of punk and grunge going on in terms of character design. Neon hair colors, fishnets and thorn up jeans jackets can be found here. As well as of course cybernetics on the characters. The world usually is a megacity with a stark divide between rich and poor, tons of neon signs, a slight Japanese influence, flying cars and somehow a constant downpour of rain.

Punk-Factor: Cyberpunk is the one punk genre, where the “punk” was chosen very knowingly as a name. Usually the protagonists are “punks” fighting for their place in the world against a suppressive capitalist system. (Also, they usually fit the punk aesthetic, if they don’t wear leather dusters.) It should be noted however, that especially in newer western Cyberpunk often the punkiness vanishes more and more – for the same reason we have so little Solarpunk: media that outright confronts the problems of capitalism is just less supported.

Examples: Neuromancer (1984), Mirrorshades: The Cyberpunk Anthology (1986), Snow Crash (1992), The Matrix (1999), Dredd (2012)

Biopunk

As a genre: As a genre biopunk is still fairly ill defined, as it mostly shows up as a subsection of Cyberpunk. Rather than the characters having cybernetic implants (or additionally to it) they are augmented on a genetic level. This can be all sorts of augmentations, changing anything from appearance to giving characters higher strength and agility, giving them claws or night vision, or in some cases even “magic” powers. Usually the genre tends to be set in worlds similar to Cyberpunk. In fact it might well be set in a cyberpunk world, only that characters with bioaugmentations exist parallel to those with cybernetics. Additionally, though, there is a subsection of this genre, that concerns reproductive rights.

As an aesthetic: Ironically biopunk is even less defined as an aesthetic. There is not a lot of biopunk art out there and most that exists can go in different directions. As such it often mixes elements from other punk aesthetics – like Cyberpunk, Steampunk or Dieselpunk – with an assortment of bodyhorror elements.

Punk-Factor: It is hard to define the “punkiness” of a genre, that barely exists for the most part. Usually, when it is set against a Cyberpunk backdrop, it might be very punky, but in other settings those punk elements vanish.

Examples: Ribofunk (1995), Altered Carbon (2002), Bioshock (2007), The Windup Girl (2009)

Nanopunk

As a genre: Like Biopunk Nanopunk mostly exists as a subsubgenre to Cyberpunk, often being set in a mostly Cyberpunk world, only that instead of or additionally to Cybernetics, the technology used to alter the human body is nanites. These serve the same function as the genetic manipulation in Biopunk, giving the human in question more strength and agility and at times more or less magical abilities. There is one common plot that comes up again and again, with an AI or megacorp turning the nanites against the people they inhabit or trying to control them.

As an aesthetic: Aesthetically Nanopunk does not have much in terms of its own identity. Most artworks relating to Nanopunk feature a similar aesthetic to Cyberpunk, with megacities and lots of neon.

Punk-Factor: This genre is so small, that it is kinda hard to judge the exact punkiness.

Examples: The Diamond Age (1995), Prey (2002)

Solarpunk

As a genre: Being another genre, that started as such, Solarpunk is a bit better defined. Solarpunk usually takes place in a world post-strive. It is post-capitalist and decolonial in its settings, usually featuring a world that has either formed against the backdrop of preventing climate collapse or in the aftermath of it. A lot of it features people rebuilding – or alternatively building communities. It always features elements about living in harmony with nature or trying to do so. So far, the genre is mostly defined by short stories, partly because there is still disagreements within the movement, how far a conflict can be taken to still qualify as Solarpunk.

As an aesthetic: Solarpunk has a very strong aesthetic definition, mostly featuring all sorts of cities and urban areas, that incorporate natural elements into the urbanity, with greenery growing on roofs and concrete car-centric streets being replaced with more natural, walkable areas. The character design aesthetic is not quite as clearly defined, but usually features natural materials and patterns usually seen within indigenous art.

Punk-Factor: Contrary to what many say, Solarpunk is fairly punk, as it very much embraces the entire anti-hierarchical, anti-capitalist mentality. With the big difference, that the punk mentality is no longer counter culture, but the mainstream culture.

Examples: The Dispossessed (1974), Nausicaä (1984), Laputa – Castle in the Sky (1986), Princess Mononoke (1997), The Summer Prince (2013)

Lunarpunk

As a genre: Lunarpunk is pretty much a subsubgenre of Solarpunk, just as Nanopunk and Biopunk are sprung off from Cyberpunk. It is so far ill-defined as a genre, but the general consensus is, that it is set in solarpunk-esque worlds, but with a heavier focus on mysticism or spiritualism, at times outright including magic. It also tends to feature a lot darker places, being set in underwater or underground settings – or alternatively at night.

As an aesthetic: Lunarpunk is far more of an aesthetic than a genre so far. It features dark places, often with bioluminescent elements in it. Often featuring a mixture of black and dark blue with lighter blue, violet or light green elements shining in the middle of it. Mushrooms – especially glowing mushrooms – feature repeatedly in artwork.

Punk-Factor: Given that Lunarpunk is barely defined as a genre it is hard to estimate the punkiness in it. If it gets more stories, will those still feature the anti-capitalist and anti-hierarchical messaging we see in Solarpunk? This should be the defining factor. Some of the artworks use little aesthetics from the punk scene, but nothing much more.

Examples: Bioluminescent: A Lunarpunk Anthology (2023)

Hopepunk

Honestly, I had no idea where to put this one, given that it might technically be set at any time and place.

As a genre: Hopepunk is very much a genre, not an aesthetic. It has been defined as the opposite of grimdark by its “inventor/name-giver” Alexandra Rowland. The basic idea is to create fiction that instead of taking a dystopian, defeatist and violent approach, takes one defined by hope and to some degree pacifism. As such the genre can be set in any setting, real or fantastic. It mostly is defined by the protagonists taking opposition to cruelty and violence, fighting for a better world and, crucially, also partly archiving it. Other than in usual Cyberpunk, where the best possible ending, tends to be, that the protagonists get to live a somewhat better life themselves, Hopepunk aims to better the life at least for groups of people.

As an aesthetic: Being fully a genre, Hopepunk has no aesthetic associated with it.

Punk-Factor: Hopepunk is punk less in the sense of the protagonists or things happening within the story, which might or might not be punk, but was named such rather because it is considered counter cultural towards the gross of media at the moment, that often strives for a “realistic, gritty, grimdark” outlook on the world. Basically it is saying: “Hope is punk.” I will not make any judgement on whether or not this is true.

Examples: The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (2014), Mad Max: Fury Road (2015), The Good Place (2016)

Mythpunk

As a genre: Another one, that does not really fit into a temporal sorting system, because once again it can be set anywhere between the stone age and the far future. The basic idea is, that the story interweaves postmodern storytelling with elements from mythology or folklore. This can mean mythological, genre-traversing retellings, but it can also mean, that mythology seeps into any given story bit by bit. As such the genre with probably the most media in the subgenre is Urban Fantasy, which often borrows from mythology and incorporates these elements.

As an aesthetic: Mythpunk as an aesthetic is a bit strange. There is definitely a mythpunk aesthetic that exists, often mixing familiar elements with elements from mythology and folklore (at times also including quasi-folkloric works of literature, such as Alice in Wonderland and the Wizard of Oz). Often just a bit dark and twisted.

Punk-Factor: To be perfectly frank, for the most part, there is not a lot of punk to be found in this genre. While there have been definitely punky stories told within the genre, this is more a story decision than something inherent to the genre.

Examples: Pan’s Labyrinth (2006), Over the Garden Wall (2014), Inscryption (2016)

Dustpunk / Rustpunk / Desertpunk

As a genre: Kinda grouping those above all together, because people argue about what they might entail and in some interpretations they kinda are similar: Post-apocalyptic stories set in a world of sand and rust. Often featuring a loner character, having to go up against everyone to ensure his own survival – and at times being forced to learn, that the lonerness might not win him (and most often it is a him) anything.

As an aesthetic: Aesthetically this tends to be very much post-apocalyptic, maybe in some cases with some more classical punk elements added to characters and surroundings.

Punk-Factor: Given that there is neither a system to rage against – nor a new, less hierarchical system – usually there is not that much punk outside of some aesthetic choices. Neither tend those stories go into constructing worlds of mutual aid or working against oppression.

Examples: Anything Mad Max should count for this.

Atompunk

As a genre: Atompunk usually deals with themes connected to the cold war – in some cases directly, in some indirectly. Often it overplays the American ideals that were pushed for during the cold war era and portrays scenarios in which American Exceptionalism slowly reveals itself as the dystopia most punks already know it to be. Outside of this vague idea for the setting, the genre is less described, as there is less of a clear script an Atompunk story might follow. So, little description of who might be the protagonist and what their role is.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Atompunk borrows heavily from the Raygun Gothic aesthetic. So, futurism, as it was imagined in the 1950s and 1960s, with heavy influences from late pulp age science fiction art.

Punk-Factor: The aesthetic in this is definitely not punk. The stories often have some vague punk ideas of recognizing how fucked up the world has become, but given the genre is fairly wide in terms of stories, it is hard to give a definite answer to how “punk” it is. One can definitely tell punk stories within this genre, though.

Examples: Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy (1978), Fallout (1997), Futurama (1999)

Dieselpunk

As a genre: Dieselpunk is once again an example of “strong aesthetic, but no clear genre identity”. Generally, Dieselpunk is concerned with the interwar period, but might cover either of the world wars. In some cases the genre features alternate timelines, in which one war happened and not the other, or in which another faction won, with the technological development being influenced by this as well. But as a genre it is not much defined. A lot of stories building on Lovecraft’s legacy feature Dieselpunk in some regards. And there is definitely a subsection of Dieselpunk stories centered around “what if Nazis won” or “what if Nazis somehow went underground and did their own technological development after the war”. Also, there are a lot of stories about pilots of war planes in this genre.

As an aesthetic: As an aesthetic Dieselpunk is more clearly defined. A lot of bare metal and the sorts of technology you would expect from this era, often with retro-futurist and art noveau elements in between. A lot of the fashion within the genre is defined by pilot and military clothing of the times, but at times also dipping into “roaring 20s” fashion styles.

Punk-Factor: In this genre I would generally say: “If the story involves punching Nazis, you might get a couple punk points – but otherwise this is not really punk.”

Examples: The Iron Dream (1972), Brazil (1985), Dark City (1998), Iron Sky (2012), Bitter Seeds (2010)

Teslapunk

As a genre: Yet another one of these, that exists mostly as a vague idea, with no clear definition. The basic idea is a world, that works on Tesla’s inventions. And as those of you, who watched Doctor Who, might know, Tesla sorta, kinda already invented the internet or had an idea of what it could be and how it could work. So a Teslapunk world is based in an alternate timeline, but might in fact go into light futurism. There is not much in this genre though with a unique thematic identity, as stories that use Teslapunk as a backdrop rarely have coherent themes.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Teslapunk is basically “Steampunk, but with Tesla-coils and electricity”. Which is not a big surprise given that Tesla came from the same era that would also be the inspiration for Steampunk. So, we have a lot of Victorian fashion, maybe some light augmentation, airships, and – again – all the tesla coils you can muster.

Punk-Factor: As, again, I think punk is more about themes than aesthetic, this is once more not really possible to judge, because there do not seem coherent themes within the genre so far.

Examples: The Prestige (2006), Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2011), Bioshock Infinite (2013)

Arcanepunk

Another one of those that do not neatly fit into the timeline…

As a genre: Arcanepunk takes place in a world, where both magic and technology have developed. In some cases both developed side by side, in others, we might have a technological world, that suddenly discovers magic by some happenstance. The fact is, though, that both exist parallel to each other or might at times be intertwined, with technology being powered by magic. This can exist at different technological stages, usually featuring settings inspired by the late 19th or early 20th century. But usually futuristic stuff that includes magic might be considered Arcanepunk, just as might stories that mix 18th century technology with magic. While also a vague genre, there is a repeating theme of magic being hoarded by those in powers and the poor and downtrodden finding ways to still use it in their own advantage.

As an aesthetic: Given that Arcanepunk’s setting is defined by the co-existence of magic and technology, rather than a specific technology, Arcanepunk has less of a defined aesthetic. Never the less, we have a part of punk aesthetics that often come up, as a surprising amount of Arcanepunk features characters with neon colored hair.

Punk-Factor: Another genre that is rather thin, yet, there is a surprising amount of stories featuring some punk ideas of fighting against an oppressive system and being counter culture to a main culture build around suppression.

Examples: Too Many Magicians (1966), Shadowrun (1989), Bartimaeus (2003), Arcane (2021) duh

Steampunk

Steampunk was the second genre to pick up the “punk” suffix and hence is as much responsible for the punk-punk as Cyberpunk as the originator.

As a genre: Being named as early as it has been, Steampunk kinda suffers the same issue as Cyberpunk itself. There is a lot of ideas there, but some are only vaguely defined. In general, though Steampunk always takes place in a world where the steam engine became the defining technology and was never replaced with the combustion engine. As such cultural aspects from the steam era, especially Victorian England and the Belle Epoche, still carry over for longer, than they did. So often we will see noble households based around similar values as the puritan Victorian English families, while the very poor are made to work in workhouses. At times we might also see themes of colonialism here. In some cases magic might exist in these worlds, as might electricity for some aspects. There is often a heavy inspiration from Jules Verne and H.G. Wells. Though it is still hard to define the “stereotypical steampunk story”, given that Steampunk offers a wide variety of stories, from adventure stories and romances, over to stories where people rise up against the Victorian-esque society.

As an aesthetic: Steampunk as an aesthetic is very much influenced by Victorian aesthetics and the time period of the late 19th century, mostly in the USA, Great Britain and France. But as all other punk genres it knows very well: “If it is worth doing, it is worth overdoing,” so steam-related elements are added to everything. Could

Punk-Factor: In the original idea for Steampunk was a lot of punk. “What if we took Cyberpunks ‘rage against the unjust system’ and made it 19th century” they asked. But given that the genre branched out so much, it is not necessarily there in all the stories. There is a ton of stories where people rage against that steam powered Victorian machine – but also a ton in which the Victorian world gets idealized and romanticized.

Examples: Thief (1998), The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (1999), Wild Wild West (1999), Clockwork Century (2008) – also half of all Sherlock Holmes adaption made after 2000 in any medium usually use Steampunk elements

Silkpunk

As a genre: Silkpunk is hard to define, despite there being a clear definition. The reason for this is, that the person who coined the term – Ken Liu – had a very specific idea in mind. He explains that the idea is of a world that has technology as language. In which form is as important as function, is made to speak a language all of its own. Inspired by ideas from W. Brian Arthur and Chinese philosophy. However, what the wider Science Fiction and Fantasy community made from it was “Steampunk but East Asian!” But given he coined the term (and also the alternative feels vaguely racist) I am going to go with Ken Liu for this. While Silkpunk will usually be set in an East Asian inspired world, the central idea is about the duality of technology, which will also be addressed within the stories.

As an aesthetic: As said above, the idea Liu had for it was a world that features some technology, but technology that is as much about form and communication through it, as it is about function. So the technology here has strong visual ideas. At least that was, how Liu intended it. Once again, the wider community made “Steampunk, but East Asian” out of it.

Punk-Factor: There is not a lot of stuff in this genre for now – however so far I do not manage to see a lot of punk ideas in it, even though some of Liu’s stories definitely feature the concept of challenging a higher power.

Examples: Dandelion Dynasty (2015), The Black Tides of Heaven (2018), The Tea Master and the Detective (2019)

Clockpunk

As a genre: Once again storytelling in this genre is not really defined, but the worlds diverge a bit before the wide adaption of steam, instead featuring mechanical devices powered by coils and springs and somehow kept alive, often at least implied through some form of arcane magic that gives “live” to these mechanical inventions. Most examples of Clockpunk, however, tend to show up as settings for parts of fantasy stories. Any fantasy world might have this “Clockpunk” area, where protagonists might travel. Especially games tend to feature this. While there is definitely a trope of the “mad inventor” often going along with this, few other tropes stand out.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Clockpunk tends to take some inspiration from the early 19th century, but tends to add a lot of gears to everything, with even city wide gear constructions keeping things working. We often will find mechatronic characters, such as wind up soldiers or wind up dancers.

Punk-Factor: Once more, there are so few stories told, that it is kinda hard to speak about how punk this is. Most stories told so far, however, do not feature punk elements.

Examples: The Great Mouse Detective (1986), Hugo (2011), Clockwork Planet (2017)

Whalepunk

Please note: This is one of those genre, I would love to see more in, though so far it is barely explored.

As a genre: And you might ask: “Why do you even name those genre, that exist mostly in theory?”, to which I might answer: “Because I am a nerd.” As all these retrofuturists genre, Whalepunk imagines mostly an alternate historical timeline, where the technology that became defining was based around whale oil. This means that in Whalepunk often whalers or harbors play a big role, though as the genre is again very thinly spread, it is hard to say what “THE whalepunk” formular is. It seems there is a tendency, to mix some mysticism or magic into the genre, though, as the idea of hunting sea monsters often plays into it as well. Good chance that it could at some point merge with Cthulupunk (which I did not name separately, because most of it is either covered in Whalepunk or Dieselpunk).

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Whalepunk is basically “Steampunk, but with more sailors, ships and sea monsters”. There is definitely a bit of Oceanpunk mixed into it as well, with some aesthetics being somewhere between Steampunk and Dieselpunk. (Which is kinda ironic, because whale oil was mostly used in the early 19th century.)

Punk-Factor: And again. There so far is not a lot of connective thematic tissue within that genre, so exploring themes is kinda hard.

Examples: Dishonored (2012), Dredge (2023)

Oceanpunk / Piratepunk

As a genre: It really is hard to divide the Piratepunk out of the Oceanpunk, though some might call it different. The idea here is that this genre features stories mostly set on the ocean and often more heavily leaning into fantasy, than science fiction. While the worlds might feature technological elements, they will almost certainly feature magical elements of some sort. The characters will usually be seafaring one way or another and stories might involve any sort of adventure. There might be a storyline, though, about one company or nation trying to control the seas – often times through magical means – with the characters often unwillingly being made to oppose them. This genre might also take place in a post-apocalyptic setting with a flooded planet.

As an aesthetic: While the aesthetic is not clearly defined, there is a good chance that it borrows heavily from the late 17th and early 18th century and the golden age of piracy, when it comes to both ships and fashion sensibilities.

Punk-Factor: Pirates, at least as far as modern media imagines them, tend to be very punk, as they tend to inherently oppose any sort of government and what not. While the punk is not there in all of the stories, a lot of the most popular stories from the genre will feature at least lightly punky elements.

Examples: One Piece (1997), Pirates of the Caribbean (2003), Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag (2013)

Dungeonpunk

As a genre: So, the idea of the genre is basically “What if Cyberpunk, but Dungeons & Dragons?” Usually set in a vaguely medieval world, this world still shows the same corporate corruption as your usual Cyberpunk world. Adventurers are just another resource to be exploited by the system, their day job involving going on yet another dungeon crawl. For this there might be some technology entirely powered by magic, with those magic items taking over the same functions technology might have in a Cyberpunk world. And yes, indeed some brave dwarf, elf or halfling might rise up and challenge the corporate dungeon syndicate. (As you might sense: Yes, this genre tends to be at least partly a bit of a parody of the punkpunk idea. Though it also can be played straight as “Cyberpunk conflicts, just that all technology is somehow magic.”)

As an aesthetic: This is once again one of the examples, where there is a clear idea behind it – but absolutely no clear aesthetic, as this genre might cover anything from medieval settings to a lot more modern stuff.

Punk-Factor: The base idea, being heavily inspired by the base idea of Cyberpunk, just from a very different perspective. But too many people read the genre as “Magic Technology, yay”, in which case, no, it is not punk.

Examples: Dungeons & Dragons can be played this way, also Final Fantasy VI – XIII definitely counts.

Sandalpunk

As a genre: I mostly include this for the sake of it, because this genre tends to boil down to “fantasy set in ancient Greece or Rome, but with vaguely anachronistic elements”. It might also include alternate history stories (even going so far as Science Fiction) based on the idea “What if Ancient Rome/Ancient Greece never fell?” There is no real overarching themes, even though I could imagine some interesting way one could build those up. So far, though, it is mostly a vague gesture towards: “SciFi Fantasy, but with more ancient civilizations.”

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic is usually just Ancient Rome or Ancient Greece, but with more magic or anachronistic elements.

Punk-Factor: Given the super vague nature of the genre and the fact that it seems more like a genre of hindsight (with most media being declared this having been released even before 2000)… Nobody wrote those stories to be punk. The one punk thing I can see about several of these stories is people challenging Gods, but… That’s about it.Examples: Hercules: Legendary Journeys (1995), Xena: Warrior Princess (1995), God of War (2005)

Stonepunk

As a genre: The basic idea of Stonepunk is, that it is set in a stone age world, but with the technology being pressed towards a very anachronistic end, which is often played for laughs. Basically it gives stone age people a modern seeming world, though not really. Often enough this is used to make a point about the modern world and parody it in some regard. An argument can be made for stories, that feature stone age technology people being somehow subjected to modern technology (for example through time travel or space travel) also possibly falling into this genre.

As an aesthetic: Usually the aesthetic of Stonepunk is one of an overplayed stone age setting. The clothing characters might wear are not what we know is historically more accurate but really just “everyone wears a pelt around their shoulders”. Meanwhile stone age tools get spun to be used as all sorts of modern technologies.

Punk-Factor: The genre does usually not feature punk themes. However, the nature of parodying and challenging the modern world tends to be punk in its own merit, I assume?

Examples: The Flintstones (1960), The Croods (2013), Horizon: Zero Dawn (2017)

That's it. That's the list.

Feel free to add to it.

What Would You do If Your Child Were About to Disappear From Your World?

We no longer live without our smartphones, imagine when this addiction gets worse. Special thanks to the amazing Producer Lívia Pinaud for reviewing the translation of the short story into English. And hey, reader, thank you so much for all the publicity you can do about my work, you live in my Heart.

Read on Amazon ebook: https://amzn.to/2TRhiAS

imagination

imagine the world we could create

together

if we collected ourselves

and put us aside

to make space for others

imagine what we could build

together

if we worked for ourselves

and put time aside

to make life for others

imagine what we could accomplish

together

if we overthrew ourselves

and put our armies aside

to make peace for others

solar sentience

“Billiiiiii!!”

I heard her call my name from across the street. I hadn’t seen Marusya since Porto. I had to stop myself from running out into traffic to greet her. i had made that mistake before and my knee still gives me trouble. but once there was a break in the traffic i dashed.

she saw me coming and opened her arms to embrace me. i ran into her with such velocity that she fell back, luckily catching both of us because i wouldn’t have been able to.

“i missed you so much, Marusya.” i made no effort to stop the tears from flowing from my eyes. “it’s been too long.”

“we talked for a hour yesterday, you goofball.” we did. we talked on the phone often and had a bad habit of losing track of time. even just to establish when and where we’d meet led us to a long tangent about my travel frustrations. “but it’s so nice to see that smile again.” i grinned even harder.

Marusya led me to the cafe. she had been staying in the city the past few months with friends i would meet later that evening. i was lucky enough that my work brought me to Europe, and luckier still that my path crossed with hers. it seemed predestined.

she took me to her favorite cafe. she loved the pastries here and that was absolutely enough for me. the weather was beautiful today so we sat on the terrace. i found it somewhat overstimulating to be honest. i was distracted by the visibility of the old and intricate architecture that populated the landscape of this part of town. that’s to say nothing of all the people and traffic noise outside, but i did my best to focus on our conversation. it was all i wanted. that and a cigarette. i was surrounded by Europeans smoking over their coffees and i knew it was only a matter of time before i broke my streak. it wasn’t a long streak anyhow.

“i can’t believe it’s been three years already. it’s surreal.”

“i know. it feels at once like yesterday and a lifetime ago that we met.” 

we worked together while we were both in school in Santa Barbara. we bonded quickly over our mutual hobbies and interests. primarily music and philosophy. in that time in our life we both desperately needed someone to talk to.

“yeah, honestly i can’t believe this is how things turned out for us. if you had told me then this is where we’d end up, i’d have laughed. and probably made sure it didn’t.”

“then i'm glad i didn’t tell you.” Marusya smiled. i couldn’t help but smile back. Marusya continued, “i’m sorry again though. i still feel responsible for how things played out in Washington.”

“it hardly matters at this point though. Terra gets released in a few months; i’m sure she won’t hesitate to forgive you.”

“i hope you’re right. i hope she’s as gracious as you’ve been.” Marusya stared into her tea. i hated to see her look so guilty. she deserved to be at peace.

“gracious? i had nothing to forgive, no matter what you tell me.” years ago she had been instrumental in my decision to transition. for that i owed her my life. i would never shake that feeling, even if she was responsible for my wife’s prison sentence. but that was between them.

Marusya started to get emotional, but she was better at keeping it at bay than i was. “i still have a hard time talking about it. i wanted to today, but now i don’t know if i can.”

“well damn, i could’ve brought my cellular then,” i joked. Marusya had asked me to leave it at my hotel. i knew the routine from our community organizing days. if we hadn’t been so diligent about our comms procedures she would be with Terra now, and i’d likely never see either released.

“have you heard from anyone since Terra’s sentencing?”

“no, i thought it best to cut ties with them. i didn’t want to push my luck. but i miss a few of them.”

“maybe when Terra’s back you’ll hear from them."

“i hope not. for her sake.”

“how are things between the two of you anyway? as good as always i hope.”

“actually they’re not. we stopped speaking. or writing letters rather.”

“no! what? why? what happened between you two?”

“she admitted to cheating on me in the clink.”

“what? you lie. tell me you’re lying.”

“i wish i was.”

“are you two done for good?”

“oh god no. at least i hope not. im just upset and we agreed it best that we don’t speak again until she’s up for parole.”

“at least that’s soon.”

“not soon enough.”

“it should’ve been me.”

“you should’ve been the one she cheated with? yeah honestly i’d’ve preferred that.”

“actually Lake did say that they’d forgive an infidelity only if it was her of all people.”

“what? seriously?”

“yeah, Terra has that effect on more people than you realize. i never told you about it because i didn’t want you to feel threatened.”

“i wouldn’t’ve felt threatened.”

“...or get any ideas.”

“okay, fair.”

“i still should’ve taken that rap for her. i never got to apologize.”

“you will one day. one day soon.”

“crazy how one little mistake could have such consequences.”

“just be grateful that was the only mistake you made.”

“i am. and thanks again.”

“for what? i didn’t do anything for you.”

“you saved me.”

“Terra saved you. i just played along.”

“then extend my thanks.”

“i’ve thanked her enough.”

i was growing tired of thinking about about my last days with the both of them. i was at my wits’ end. i excused myself to bum a cigarette from another patron. Marusya used the opportunity to get another tea.

it felt good to smoke again, and to see Marusya face to face, even if we still had some tensions to iron out. we had been unable to discuss it directly, on the chance that a bug might overhear. Marusya was still wanted by the FBI for her connection to the Nerysian Resistance Cell.

i inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill me, and consume me. the nicotine made me feel light, made it hurt less to relive the past.

the Nerysians were the cell responsible for the assassination of Chief Justice Robert Jackson, the first Supreme Court Justice to be assassinated in the country’s history, but not the last. it seems like a minor incident after the events that followed, and i spent a long time hoping that the FBI agreed. luckily i have yet to be proven wrong.

ultimately, the only Nerysian who would do time in connection to that crime was Terra. just our luck. our friend Lake who pulled the trigger was murdered by police on sight. sadly, the trigger was attached to a pistol registered in Terra’s name. she had given her gun to Marusya when there was a string of robberies in her building. Marusya, in the midst of returning it, left it in the trunk of Lake’s car, which was commonly used for Nerysian activity. this led to it being mixed in with the unmarked arms that had shared the trunk that evening. the next morning Lake had taken that gun of all guns.

after recovering Lake’s body and Terra’s gun, it was only a matter of time before they came for her too. rather than implicate others, Terra took responsibility. the rest of the cell took the cue to go into hiding. we had covered our tracks well enough that the only charge they could pin to her was giving Lake the gun. she even convinced the court that she knew nothing of the assassination plans. they never knew of the other illegal rifles and pistols that Lake had access to. they never knew the truth of the Nerysians.

however, they did know that Marusya and Lake shared a house. scared that she could be used to expose an entire network of revolutionaries, Marusya fled the country. i helped her escape to Europe, by way of Portugal, where i had enough connections and spoke the language well enough to get her a stack of Euros, a fake passport and a train ticket to get deeper into the continent. she took refuge with her leftist connections from her post grad years in Eastern Europe. she seems to like it here, but it was hard to tell under all her grief.

Marusya returned, tea in one hand and pastry in the other, as i finished my cigarette.

“you smoked that so fast.”

“yeah, i should’ve savored it.”

“don’t make the same mistake with this,” she remarked handing me the pastry. “do you want to talk about something else? i think the heavy convos can wait.”

we sat to resume our convo. “yes, please. did you have something in mind?”

“yes!” Marusya’s face lit up, her demeanor shifting immediately. “i was reading earlier about the new advancements in cold fusion tech.”

“really?” this was a topic we both had followed since scientists started making advancements when we were in college. it was one thing that gave us hope for our global future.

“yes! they’re creating more and more energy everyday.” her enthusiasm comforted me. “it’s so exciting.”

“where is this happening?”

“at a new nuclear research facility in Vienna.”

“very cool. it’s about time.”

“i agree, it’s a shame that it took such extreme global circumstances to motivate the EU to fund it. but better late than never.”

“definitely. i just can’t help but be concerned with how this tech could be privatized and capitalized. this could solve so many problems across the globe, but that idea feels naive.”

“yeah, we need to be careful with these utopian ideas. every utopia is a dystopia for someone after all.”

“no argument there, but i don’t know what we will do if the people in power choose utopia. it seems almost certain.”

“we will feast upon their flesh,” Marusya replied flatly. “wasn’t that always the plan?” she looked at me earnestly, her eyes wide, as she pulled apart a piece of the pastry.

“yes, but i still pray it never comes to that.”

“too bad your prayers haven’t gotten a response. im sure the sun would know what’s in store for us.”

i thought that was a odd thing to say, at least for Marusya. “what do you mean?”

“wait, did you not hear that the sun is sentient? do you not read the news while you’re on tour?”

“i stopped reading the news when Terra left.”

“she didn’t leave. she was taken from you.”

“don’t remind me.”

“oh sorry. you’re right.”

“what are you talking about then?”

“okay so a few weeks ago some researchers published some really fascinating data that i thought you’d have heard about.”

“it’s been hard to keep up with all the extraterrestrial science that’s been happening since the shattering.”

“yes, definitely. but this is more legit than a lot of the speculation that’s coming out these days. essentially, astrophysicists were able to prove that within the sun there is energy flowing between atoms. and that this energy flows in patterns remarkably similar to the flow of electricity between neurons in the human brain.”

“oh, that is interesting.”

“isn’t it?” Marusya’s enthusiasm always filled me with joy. i missed seeing that in her face for so long.

“what exactly are we supposed to make of that though?”

“well, essentially the prevailing interpretation is that the sun is functioning like a brain, but given that the mass of the sun is so much larger than a brain, there’s practically infinitely more synapses with infinitely more connections, so to speak. and the conclusion researchers are coming to is that the sun is ‘hyper-sentient’ and is observing and on some level comprehending the universe that surrounds it.”

i was stunned. i didn’t know how to respond to that information.

Marusya continued, “i mean obviously we’ll never be capable of understanding exactly how the sun ‘thinks’ or how it experiences reality, or whatever hyper-sentience might imply. but the implications are fascinating.”

“you’re right. i was shocked. i don’t even know what to say.”

“really? i thought you’d have something to say given your sun worshiping tendencies. i really surprised you didn’t hear about it.”

“well, this is validating. i feel like i already knew somehow.”

“maybe somehow we all did. we’re all waves on one ocean anyway. the sun is just like a tsunami.” 

i really liked this conjecture. i knew Marusya thought about life along these lines and i knew that she was right about the nature of reality. “but given that our sun is just one star of one hundred billion, and that’s just within our galaxy, are they theorizing that all stars are sentient?”

“yes, that’s exactly the conclusion they’ve come to. all stars have been reclassed as ‘hyper–sentient beings.’ they’re already calling them ‘HSBs’ and it’s opening an entire new subfield of astrophysics. evidently our search for extraterrestrial life had too narrow of a scope.”

“does this mean they’ll finally stop looking for little green men?” Marusya and i had both long considered this a futile effort and a waste of ever-dwindling resources.

“almost definitely not. everyone still wants to know who built the moon.” Marusya said this almost as if she did as well.

“they want to know who they can declare war on.”

“sure, but maybe we need to be humbled. as a species.” Marusya was right. the hubris of man had gotten out of hand in the past decade, saying nothing of course of the centuries that preceded it.

i nodded as i ate the last bite of pastry. Marusya was right about them, and i’m sure she was right about everything else. but i needed time to process it.

i looked to the sun now. or as much as i could given its unbearable brightness this time of day, this time of year. its rays illuminated big fluffy clouds, clouds taller and wider than any castle in Europe. i wondered if it could feel me, if it could feel the warmth that i felt in that moment, from radiation that connected us directly. i felt so small then; i was one of nearly two million people in this city alone. this city that were its area transposed onto the surface of the sun, would appear so miniscule it would not be detectable by even our most advanced instruments and our smartest scientists.

could it feel what i was feeling? did we only exist as an extension of it? as a cosmic appendage that was willed into existence so that this HSB may be capable of experiencing its own beauty? if so, did that change anything for us? would that bring us to reassess, re-examine, and ask ourselves, “how do we live?”

i knew i wouldn’t come to any worthwhile conclusions now, or soon, or maybe even as long as i lived. we were in a new era of gods greater than ourselves, and for once in human history plainly observable to exist. so why did this bring our own existence into question? i wanted to get into all the questions that raced through my mind then and there, but it was time to leave the cafe. maybe it was best to give myself time to collect my thoughts, and to reground myself with the exciting prospect of exploring a very old city with my oldest friend. Marusya always had a way of bringing me back to reality, no matter how strange reality became.

“what do you want to do first?” Marusya asked me, smiling at me big as ever. i knew from that alone we would be alright.

“buy a pack of cigarettes,” i responded without missing a beat. for the first time since i landed in Europe i had other things on my mind, but i knew from experience that relapsing on my nicotine addiction would keep me from relapsing on the designer psychedelics that captured my youth and were widely available on the continent. i wanted now more than ever to dive back in, to take a hero’s dose and explore this fresh perspective of the cosmos. i wanted to reconnect with our celestial mother, who gave us life and watched closely over us. i wanted to, but i knew i couldn’t let Marusya see me like that, not again. i knew if i wasn’t clean when Terra was released there would be no prospect of her returning to me. i knew that the two of them meant more to me than any drug. on second thought, i decided against the cigarettes, and Marusya led me deeper into this city as old as our measurement of years themselves, guiding me further into the past as she once had guided me into my present. we talked and we laughed and we sang and we cried, and we rekindled the friendship we had sacrificed for the greater good of humanity. for the first time in years, it felt like a worthy sacrifice.

star map

there are one hundred billion stars in this galaxy

so what makes mine so special?

what makes them worthy of my devotion? of my prayers? my offerings?

you & i were born under the same stars,

they guided us to one another, after shaping our lives in ways we could not yet comprehend

so maybe i owe them my life, as much as i feel i owe it to you

soon i will have a map of these stars emblazoned across my body

permanently marked upon my chest, on my shoulders, my arms, my hands

so that when my times comes to return to them,

i’ll be able to find my way back to you.

terra

i remember the first time i saw her. she defended my honor shortly after. i have loved her ever since.

i knew better than to be in that bar alone. but this was a manic phase for me so all bets were off. i was using again, and doing my best to maintain a social life without many friends. and for once, i excelled. at least by my own standards. this night that meant drinking with my lonesome in a random dive.

i had never patronized this particular establishment. but there were bikes out front so i knew what to expect. at least i thought i did. i could never have anticipated that i would walk into her life on this night of all nights. a moonless night nonetheless.

the very moment i stepped inside i noticed her. curls as red and voluminous as hers are hard to miss. i was instantly consumed by layers of reactive emotion: lust, envy, insecurity, pride, panic. it took all of my attention not to show every racing thought on my face. i sat at the bar with my back to the pool tables, where she talked and laughed with her biker friends. i thought it best to keep her out of sight and out of mind.

i drank quickly that night. i was uncomfortable and i knew i stood out, but i had enough experience fitting myself in where i didn’t belong that i was ultimately unconcerned. being noticeable was unavoidable and i assumed myself capable of managing the unwanted attention. of course a few men tried talking to me; i did what i could to entertain them but i didn’t have the energy. after a couple more drinks that i did not pay for, one man pushed his luck. and i pushed back. not literally, not yet. he stood too close and breathed too heavy. he tried to ask about my braids and my jewelry, presumably in a lame attempt to connect with me over something personal. i suppose it is not a despicable tactic, but i despised it. i had no patience to explain my culture to a white man, or to bear the inevitable microaggressions. but i had been trapped and was feeling sassy after a couple drinks, so of course i had to call him out as soon as he asked about my blood quantum. i don’t care to relive that conversation, but i’ve often relived the following moments.

as his tone shifted from inquisitive to offended to offensive, others began to notice. i hadn’t the sense or sobriety to de-escalate, and like i said this was one of my manic phases. so i mocked, and he yelled, and before i could comprehend what i had gotten myself into i had to get myself out. but for once i couldn’t see an exit. and that’s when she came to my rescue. when i heard a woman’s voice interject from behind me, i swiveled in my bar stool and found myself face to face with a goddess. a goddess of war nonetheless, with a face so full of freckles and fury that i was instantly disarmed.

they seemed to have history. they seemed to have pre-existing beef. but either way she was as committed to escalation as i had been only a moment before. she told him not to waste his time, she told him to leave me alone, she told him to go back to fucking mannequins, whatever that meant. he called her a bitch and a dyke and she kept her cool. but as soon as tranny had left his lips i heard glass shatter. next was all of a flash of light to me. a sudden commotion and i was dragged from the bar. i thought i was carrion, but it had been devotees of my new savior that gotten me out of there. it was a relief, and in my one glance back at the brawl that had ensued i was filled with gratitude. this was just as immediately interrupted by the roar of motorcycle, and as if i had died in that bar and gone to heaven, i turned once again to my newfound idol, now revving her engine and gesturing me to mount her steed behind her. i hesitated for the smallest moment, maybe because i didn’t believe my luck or maybe to capture a clear image i could return to once my luck ran up. im glad i took that moment. 

it lingered in my mind’s eye for some time, and before i knew what had happened or how to feel i was holding onto a total stranger for dear life. as we sped down a empty freeway, cold air cutting into my watery eyes, i buried my face into her soft curls. i realized that i was wearing her helmet, that she had sacrificed her own safety several times over to secure mine. there are no words in the english language that can adequately express the gratitude i felt in that moment. it was all i could do to hold on with every string of every atom of my being, thankful to feel safe for the first time in my life.

**********

her name is Terra, she told me. a gorgeous name, did she pick it herself i asked. she did not, she was named for her mother.

she took me to her apartment. told me it’d be a calm place for me to sober up. i certainly didn’t mind. especially not after seeing it. i had no expectation of something luxurious or tidy or well decorated, and in that sense it met my expectations. but it was her domain and i was in awe. i took in every detail, eager to learn what i could about my new hyperfixation. a large mattress on the floor with perfectly disheveled sheets, a whiteboard displaying chemical equations, plants everywhere. an impeccably neat kitchen, a disheveled record collection, no visible closet. stacks of books. a dozen candles. empty wine bottles. only one chair. we sat together on the floor on her bed. this made me nervous.

but she wasn’t tense and that put me at ease a bit. she wasn’t talkative either, and i think ultimately that’s what intimidated me. i wanted to interrogate her motivations for helping me, but i thought it best not to push my luck. she seemed unphased by the whole evening and i tried my best to mimic her stoicism.

i helped bandage her hand. she had cut it on the broken glass she shoved into that man’s face. she asked where i learned first aid. so i told her about my years as a boy scout, growing up in Colorado. learning to survive the harsh winters without resources. learning to braid hair and sing songs and practice witchcraft. she laughed at that.

she asked me if i had any new moon rituals. i didn’t; i grew up a sun worshiper. she insisted we do hers together. she made me a cup of tea, offered me bread. i hadn’t realized i was so hungry and when she told me she made it herself, i certainly couldn’t decline. she lit candles and incense and told me that i didn’t need to say prayers but i needed to keep quiet while she said hers. afterwards she put on a Dexter Gordon record and we resumed conversation, much to my delight.

i told her i envied the density of her freckles and her curl pattern. it was tighter than mine. i told her about my stay in the hospital after my first attempt. about the 2spirit elder who gave me guidance when i wanted it least and needed it most. how they told me that my freckles were blessings from the sun. each individual spot a distinct blessing that would shape my life and guide my future. how the curls in my hair are a blessing from the moon, our celestial matriarch pulling my locks towards the heavens in celebration of my existence. that to waste my life and these blessings would be a dishonor. that i deserved a better death than that.

i told her she had more blessings than me, that the moon loved her more. she laughed at that.

she told me about how she grew up, with several brothers and no maternal figure to keep them in line. about how she left her family at an early age to pursue an education abroad, on a scholarship of course. how in Europe she fell in love with American jazz music. how she was embarrassed to admit it. how that taught her that everything is more admirable from a distance. how when you’re too close to your source you get caught in negative feedback loops that impair your judgment. 

i told her about my art, and she told me about hers. her voice was soft and low. smooth and syrupy like honey. i listened to it for hours and wanted hours more. but after some time we just sat in silence. as the first light of day slowly worked its way in, we found ourselves drifting into sleep in each other’s arms. 

Terra woke me a couple hours later. she was kind enough to provide me with coffee before driving me home, again on her motorcycle, which excited me as much the second time as the first. it was a very nice bike too; a real vintage model that she took pride in having rebuilt. i admired the gleam in her eyes as she told me about it. she was so clearly full of passion, not for motorcycles but for life itself.

on the stairs of my tenement i told her i admired that. how she seemed to live so much life in so little time. how she had so much life ahead of her. that i wanted to know how her story played out, as interesting as it’s been. i towered over her, standing a step above her, and lost myself in the intensity of her upwards gaze. i finally asked her, i needed to know.

“why did you intervene last night? why did you help me only to incite a riot?”

“well that guy you were talking to has a reputation. i know who he is; he has hurt my friends before.”

“so you saw an opportunity for revenge,” i smirked.

“i can’t honestly say no,” she admitted. “but i had my eyes on you since you walked in. and you were in more danger than i think you realized.”

“so you saw more more than one opportunity.” she chuckled in response. “do you make a habit of saving damsels in distress?” i continued.

“yes.”

I didn’t know what to make of that. i thought at the very least maybe i could enjoy my moment as object of her attention a little longer, before the next damsel comes along.

the sunlight shone through the canopy of maple leaves. it felt warm on my skin, and the sensation slowed my racing thoughts. Terra held my wrist in one hand, gently rubbing her thumb on the inside of my wrist. she had such strong hands, and seemed unaware of how intimate that had felt. i wondered how much of that was an act she put on for all her damsels. but i didn’t want to know. it was a good act and i wanted to feel, at least in this moment, that she was acting for me and me alone.

the tension was palpable. she stared into my eyes intently, with no expression on her face. i felt naked, i felt she could see right through me. i didn’t know what to say, but i knew i didn’t want to say goodbye. i knew any front i put on would go to waste. i knew i had to be honest with her and myself or we would both recognize the lies. instead i let my mind go blank. i let my eyes sink into the deep brown pools that gazed back at me. the light reflecting on their surface, the texture of her irises, the depth of her soul. suddenly i grabbed the lapels of her black leather jacket, unaware of how much time had passed since we spoke. i pulled into her to me, or more accurately i pulled myself into her.

“kiss me,” i told her firmly.

and she did! she kissed the freckle on the tip of my nose. it was short and it passed swiftly but i knew it was a blessing i would carry as long as i lived.

“what are you doing today?” she asked me, brushing off any awkwardness i felt. im sure she felt none.

“i need to clean my apartment. probably do laundry and make a curry.” i knew i was going to spend the day riding one high while coming down from another. “you?” i asked in response, trying to feign disinterest.

“i have a class at the college. i haven’t made up my mind about the rest of the day.”

“at the city college?”

“yes”

“compelling topic?”

“figure drawing actually. we have a nude model today so i can’t be absent.”

“do you like drawing nudes?” i asked cheekily.

“i would,” she told me, “but our prof only uses male models. i haven’t decided if it’s cause of some internalized misogyny or just a little kink of hers.” i laughed. “no, seriously. there’s a lot of rumors of her inappropriate behavior. at this point it’s more of a gossip class than anything.”

“that does sounds like fun,” i agreed, thinking only of how many girls she had gotten to model for her sketches in her apartment. if she did that as a ploy or out of genuine dedication to her art. if she took advantage of those girls, if she was a Picasso in her own right. if she kept her clothes on while she fucked them. i wanted to find out first hand. the desire burned in my chest. i exhaled and let it go.

“im sorry, i need to leave now.” that was the last thing i wanted to hear. “but it was really lovely meeting you. i hope i salvaged your night.”

“salvaged?! you made my whole fucking month!” i exclaimed. i hoped my enthusiasm would get me a little farther with her. “i hope i didn’t ruin yours. i’m sorry for derailing it.”

“don’t be.”

“would you like to see me again in that case?”

“you’re too bright to be asking such dumb questions.”

“then when would you like to see me again?”

“tomorrow night,” she said as if it was non-negotiable. i had no intention of trying. “i’ll pick you up and buy you a meal.”

“oh you don’t need to do all that,” i protested through the ear to ear smile that had come over me.

“too late. i’ve already committed to it,” she said as if it were her solemn duty to show me a good time. “i’ll pick you up at sundown.”

“i’ll be here.”

“good.”

neither of us turned to leave. i froze, feeling the awkwardness that remained between us. i wished she had kissed me.

“one thing before i go,” i was thankful to hear her interject. in one smooth motion she took a step as to be level with me and grabbed me by the neck. she was strong and with her other hand on my hip she easily pushed my back against the wall. and then she finally kissed me.

a bolt of electricity shot through my entire body. her lips were tender, making up for her lack of gentleness. they were parted slightly, and with the force of her face into mine i could feel her teeth on my bottom lip. for one brief second she gave into the same burning desire i had felt for hours.

i hope i never forget the expression on her face as she pulled it back from my own. she looked happy. plainly and purely and the warmth of her smile radiated outwards, illuminating parts of my inner self i hadn’t seen since childhood. i think it was in that moment i fell in love.

“goodbye for now, Billi,” she said in a dulcet tone.

“see you tomorrow, Terra,” praying she would not prove me wrong.

as she continued down the steps i watched her go. her red hair was so much more beautiful in the daylight. i took note of every complexity of the color and texture as quickly as i could, lest it be the last i saw of it. i wanted to bask in this moment. i lit a cigarette and sat in the middle of the stairwell, waiting eagerly for my armored knight to return, to rescue me from my tower and whisk me away to paradise.

ipbm test

i witnessed the shattering of our moon. although many will claim now to have experienced the moment, having in reality only seen the footage, on that day same as any few were looking to the sky before they heard the booms. and everyone heard the booms.

the last week of december is hard on everyone. holiday travel leaves far too much time to think, to contemplate the past year and its changes and what pain and pleasure will come with the next. this year i was happy to travel with my lover.

we flew to maryland this year. it was a fine xmas, snowless unfortunately but that’s to be expected in our warming climate. i was nervous about introducing her to my mother, and more so my sister, but the trip was uneventful. that is until we left.

we woke up late that morning, having wasted too much time the previous evening drinking wine and packing our bags and indulging in the intimacy we have been blessed to find in each other. snow in the north left us without concern, only a three hour delay. we chose to spend the time in our terminal; she thought it prudent, i saw an opportunity.

we spent all of two hours lounging on that ugly carpet, sharing one set of wired earbuds and one masterpiece of a conversation. the chaos of the previous week left us with little time for each other, all of which was spent maintaining our affections and our respective body heats in the chill nights on the bay. i don’t admit it much, but my recollection of this day is dominated by those hours we spent with our backs against each other. how she braided my hair, how she laughed more than usual, how she seemed optimistic for our future together; i burned these moments into the folds of my brain like petroglyphs on canyon walls.

a few days previous was the full moon. a cold moon on the eve of xmas is a special occasion for everyone. we spent this rarity as anyone would, and consequently have little memory of it. we were amongst many who wished they had savored the moment. had we known that was our final evening basking in the full glory of her beauty, everything would have been different. that was one lesson we all have to learn the hard way: you will one day gaze upon the face of the one you love for the final time, and you will be blissfully unaware.

her beauty had already begun waning by the end of the week. she was however still largely visible on this crisp and clear winter’s day. my memory is vivid; i stood at the window wall by the gate watching planes take off and land and take off again as i waited for her to return with snacks i could care less about. the sunlight glared off of every surface; the brightness was overwhelming and i sought solace in the moon. it was in this moment it shattered.

it is trite by now to describe it as surreal, especially with every aspect of our reality becoming increasingly so with each revolution. in the moment, i was so certain i was daydreaming. it just broke apart. it cracked and scattered itself like a projectile egg. and that was the last humanity saw of her face.

moments later sonic booms, at first to be foolishly assumed by many to be the sound of this great calamity, were heard in every region of the country. this was quickly deduced by some to be no more than the sound of martial mobilization, a well documented impulse in this country. the details would later be unceremoniously revealed in the following months of news coverage.

my lover returned to me snacks in hand and confused, but not as confused as me. i was speechless, and it was all i could do to point at the sky. as vividly as i remember the moment of shattering, i can imagine seeing again the tears well up in her eyes and slowly rolling down her cheeks, void of any other expression. i relived that moment every hour of every day for the next year.

in the next few hours we learned that this was the result of the first test of the space force’s new ipbm, the inaugural interplanetary ballistic missile. the test proved successful only by the means they had expected to measure. in every other sense, it was an unprecedented failure. it answered all our questions about space bombs, but raised infinitely more about humanity’s history and place in the cosmos.

this was the day we learned that the moon, our moon, the very one we’ve worshiped and written poems about, the one our dogs howled to, the one that pulled the tides while glimmering the beauty of its light across the water, was in reality, at least our reality, a hollow megastructure put in place in the far distant past by beings more ancient and more advanced than we are genuinely capable of comprehending.

in the following days, people talked about nothing else. in the following months people began asking questions. in the following years, scientists began investigating. we were never given answers.

not real ones, not satisfying or even conclusive ones. we can only imagine the implications for our past and our future. in the present the effects of our hubris are self-evident. you didn’t need to be an oceanographer to see that the tides had lost their potency. the impacts on aquatic species are still being documented. the extent to which it exacerbated the extremes of each season will always be up for debate. it was clear that this was a new era for humanity.

a reminder of this day will exist forever in our sky. a broken moon fragmented and strewn across the firmament. a reminder of this day will exist forever in her face. i will relive it with every tear that falls upon it. and those memories will resurface with only positive feelings of the lovely day i spent with her.

If you guys have an hour or two to kill, I highly recommend these two videos by Cardinal West on the Xenofiction genre. I have a far greater appreciation and understanding of the genre and it’s sub-categories thanks to him and his videos. These and his other xenofiction video essays are all so well written and entertaining and such a great resource for people wanting to get into reading or writing the genre.

If you guys have an hour or two to kill, I highly recommend these two videos by Cardinal West on the Xenofiction genre. I have a far greater appreciation and understanding of the genre and it’s sub-categories thanks to him and his videos. These and his other xenofiction video essays are all so well written and entertaining and such a great resource for people wanting to get into reading or writing the genre.

The Thousand Year Echo

Meryl was weeding in her garden when she heard the first voice. It spoke clearly, like it was the neighbor calling over the fence to her, but she didn’t understand the words. She looked around after the voice, but saw no one.

“Hello?”, she said, rising hesitantly to her feet. The voice was still speaking— had been speaking, uninterrupted since she first heard it. Meryl peeked over the fence. Maybe the neighbor had turned on the TV, or a radio. But when she got up on her tiptoes to see over the fence, she noticed the voice was gone. She made a sour face, then brushed it off and went back to weeding. No sooner had she knelt down to take up her trowel again than did the voice come back, along with several others, laughing.

“Who’s there?”, she demanded, stamping her foot as she stood up again and holding the trowel like a knife. No answer, just more of the same talking she couldn’t understand. She checked the other fence, and the other other, both with the same result. She returned to the spot she was weeding and listened. What language was that? Russian? Chinese? No, not quite. Was it just a bunch of babble? Was she having a stroke, or a seizure, and this was a symptom? She took out her phone and looked up “symptoms of a stroke”, and “symptoms of a seizure.” Neither seemed likely. Just making the search and reading the results was a strong indication, in and of itself, that she wasn’t having a stroke or a seizure. Then what was she hearing?

She stood there in her garden, completely baffled, listening to the voice carry on. Could somebody be playing a trick on her? How? Could the metal plate in her head be receiving radio signals? (She had no metal plate in her head, as far as she was aware.) Maybe it was time for a cup of tea, Meryl thought. She dropped her trowel where she stood, took off her work gloves and left them with the trowel, and walked to the back deck. When she stepped up to the deck, the voice cut out, like a radio losing reception. She stepped back down. The voice came back. She flossed the step, up and down: Up, no voice; down, voice.

Meryl skipped the tea. She went to the hardware store and bought a hundred orange marker flags. She systematically combed over each square foot of her back yard, row by row, like she was mowing the lawn. She’d take a step, listen for the voices, and, if she heard them, mark the spot with a flag. When she had covered the whole of her back yard there now appeared a swirl of markers, a spiral galaxy of orange flags with Meryl’s gloves situated in the center.

Over the next two weeks Meryl made a few more trips to the hardware store. She dug up her garden, digging along the contours she’d mapped out with the flags, then filled the area in with poured concrete, making herself a nice, if not oddly shaped and bizzarely placed, new patio. She put a wrought iron bench in the middle of it, and on either side of that, a flower box. It became her habit to spend much of her free time out on that bench, listening to the voices.

It had been a man’s voice the first time, but it wasn’t always. She’d hear, now a gang of children at play, now a young man and woman talking, and a baby crying. A whispering woman—and she could’ve been whispering right in Meryl’s ear—frantically muttering what sounded like a prayer was a recurring one. Always the voices came in that uninteligible, unplaceable language— apart from the baby’s.

Meryl looked for that language, scouring the internet for samples of any she’d never heard before. None of them were right. The more she listened to the voices on the patio, the more unlike anything else their language seemed. It was heavy, and solid like blocks of carved, polished stone. Every other language she could find was a twittering of birds by comparison.

One afternoon Meryl had friends over for dinner. She took the table from the back deck and set it up on her new patio, where they all dined that night. She was nearly as shocked as her friends were when they heard the voices. She’d been operating under the assumption this whole time that she’d gone discreetly and pleasantly insane, or something like it.

Jason—she’d had the biggest crush on him in high school, which no one ever knew about, and when he ended up marrying her sort-of friend, Dawn, Meryl drew closer to her out of some masochistic impulse—was particularly excited by the phenomenon and, after a few beers, announced to the dinner party that he was resolved to solve the riddle. Everyone laughed at this, except Jason. Conversation moved on. No one thought much of the announcement.

Meryl herself wasn’t very curious about the voices. Or, she was, just in the way that she wanted to listen to them, rather than in the way that she needed to have an explanation for them. It was troubling enough to know other people could even hear them. Finding out what the were, where they came from, what cuased them— to Meryl that would just be making matters worse. Jason started emailing her frequently, asking questions about the voices. She answered his questions. He was no trouble to her.

Until one day he showed up with a small crew of—were they scientists?—all duded up in hazmat suits like she had E.T. stowed away in her back yard. He promised her that it would only be two hours, tops, and then it’d be like they were never even there. They just needed to collect some data, he told her, that’s all. He pleaded with her, and flirted, like he always used to do in high school. He was old and ugly now, and the display was farsical, but in fairness she was old and ugly too, and anyway it worked. Meryl relented.

They were in and out in two hours, and they had left no trace, just like Jason said. Then, years passed, and Meryl never heard what came of it. Dawn and Jason had divorced not long after, (but unrelated to), the data collection episode, and their divorce had let the air out of her friendship with either of them. She fell out of contact with a lot of people, as it happened, and drew closer to the voices. She had, over the years, developed an understanding of their language, but she couldn’t articulate their meaning. To listen to a language for years, but never speak it… you get a sense of it, in your guts, like a dog must have for the way its human relatives speak. But a dog doesn’t have the equipment to talk back, and neither did Meryl.

In the same time, she had also developed lung cancer, which she fought and “won.” The sad truth is that one does not win against cancer. Meryl was down half a lung. Her life would be shorter than it otherwise would have been, because of that. And still, not a day would go by, from the first day she was diagnosed until her last, that wouldn’t be in the shadow of her cancer, or its returning. She didn’t think of herself as having won a battle.

Oh, and money. Not much of that was left, meaning the voices that had kept her company for so long now would be repossessed by the bank, along with everything else. This would happen, she was certain, save for a miracle. Then, a miracle.

Jason called her, out of the blue, to tell her that they’d found what the voices were. They were an echo. An echo from a long, long time ago. Using a lot of sciencey words that meant nothing to Meryl and that, truth be told, meant nothing to him either, Jason explained to her that any sound waves propagating through the space enclosing that little patch in what used to be her garden would be repropagated exactly, through that same space, some one thousand years later, by a process distinct from the one which causes familiar echos, but roughly analogous. Jason was very excited about all this. Meryl wasn’t. But along with this news, Jason had also called with a proposal: To make that special little patch of hers a destination. People would pay good money just to sit on her bench and listen to the idle chitchat of our distant ancestors, and even better—he said even better, but to Meryl it seemed even worse—they could leave a message of their own, to be heard by who knows who in a thousand years’ time. “Can you imagine it?”, he asked breathlessly.

Meryl hated the idea, but she did believe it would pay. Again, she relented to Jason. She kept the house, and raked in money besides. She even got to hear the voices still, on Sunday’s, when the house—not her house anymore, the house—was closed to the public.

She thought it was kind of sad, watching all these people come to leave their own personal messages for the next millennium. She understood, like she understood the voices, in her gut, not her head, that there simply wouldn’t be anyone to recieve them.

Snippet from The Ithaca Mandate

Ardent, 2765

“She was so excited to see that god-awful ship,” Judith whispered, and Kalor bit her lip as she nodded. “Meanwhile, I can’t get away from it fast enough.”

Kalor set her hand on her arm and squeezed.

“It’s just a ship, Quinn,” she said. “Just as fragile and vulnerable as the rest of us.”

The simplicity of the statement refused to settle. Ithaca wasn’t fragile. She’d never faltered. She was an entity all her own, an impenetrable metal veil that wedged herself between two realities Judith could no longer reconcile. For years she had known Ithaca would take Lyris, and Rilka–that she might even one day have taken Zoey.

She wasn’t just a ship. Not anymore.

She was a threshold, a snare–a patient, immutable gravity that Judith knew was now finally seizing her, too.

Ithaca was always going to take her.

But her pull would drown them both.

Snippet from The Ithaca Mandate

“How long?” Judith asked, hugging her arms against her ribs. She shivered slightly, the chill of the open space seeping into her. “How long until…?” The question ground to a halt, and no amount of will could force it into the air. How long until we’re gone? She could hear it in her mind. She could see it in the gaunt lines of her reflection. The bones of her cheeks and shoulders pushed out against her skin and the thin fabric of her undershirt, her brown eyes framed in dark crescents–fault lines and shadows where there should have been rolling hills and light. Judith scrubbed a hand across her face, like she could wipe that terrible, broken reflection away. Beneath them, Ithaca creaked and trembled as if even the leviathan herself was afraid of what it meant to die. Rage boiled to the surface, at the great, suffering beast still clinging to her perverse, miserable excuse of a life and her demands she not die alone. How long until you finally let us go?