I'm not sure I ever thought I'd say something like this, but I'm hella excited to be included in this upcoming sci-fi collection, Biketopia: Feminist Bicycle Science Fiction Stories In Extreme Futures, being put out by Microcosm Publishing in the summer, thanks to a Kickstarter campaign that is still going on (only ~2 days left to help out!). I'm in love. Disclaimer, I'm in it and I work there, but still, it's actually good. I promise. Check out that cover!It's a really cool book with a kickass cover, and I genuinely encourage you to track one down now or later. As a person obsessed with progressive/feminist speculative fiction, AND as a woman, AND a woman of color preparing for life in Trump's amurika right now, a lot of these stories particularly impressed me.
So here's an excerpt from my story, "Shelter," but go check out the kickstarter and be a part of something rad...
My boots squeaked in short bursts as I paced. I’d been late before, when a wreck on the overstate shut down the outer neighborhoods. A lot of us got in trouble that day. It was made clear that it wouldn’t be forgiven a second time.
Now it was so late they’d probably already filed the dismissal paperwork. I’d probably get a phone call in an hour to inform me of my termination, then another from the Department of Women’s Services reminding me that a career change meant I’d have to re-file my Transportation and Needs paperwork.
No work meant no reason to travel. It meant no gas rations and barely enough transit slips to get to the store. It meant they’d send pamphlets to my house every week, reminding me of the many religious centers where I could apply for medical, financial, and spiritual services.
Not getting to work in the next fifteen damned minutes meant another string of months confined to my house, my neighborhood, my brother’s church. Even walking to the grocery store would require passing a checkpoint.
Izaac needed to get home now.
It was six when the phone rang.
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