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fade in:

 

i was doing the rounds in a cement courtyard, they let anyone in, dreadful security—by all means, hire local talent to run the doors, see where it takes you in terms of cumulative shanking

this serious girl with a documentary got me by the arm started walking

listen who should I do my next movie with

dear do you have a next movie, i asked

no ma’am

then why are we having this conversation

besides, mighty wild of you to think so far ahead, are you aware in three to five years society will be collapsing

she went white she said right, the apocalypse

 

fade out.

 

now, i’m no particular fan of the “walk with me” set piece

career advice is nothing you can’t fix with a phone call from the comfort of your own block

and yet: sincere children always have to be closing

 

was i mean to the breaking girl? no, but

i could have played along, not this one see that one, be her diving board one two jump into the nocturnal pit, the shock corridor auntie

i should have passed her a bag of licorice rolls

eat up, vanessa, you must know life is pain interrupted by long stretches where nothing of consequence happens, plus, i do see little to no point in producing material goods in a world about to blow

i wasn’t gonna bang the drums to walk a bright young thing to the abattoir anyway

the catherine woolf dress was blatant false advertising on my end

 

i could have played the future game

will i be pretty will i be rich, but then again

no

 

i summer between 1986 and 2039

it’s nice, it rains.



Barbara Genova (she/her/them) is the pen name of a woman who got stranded in Central Europe during the first of many Covid lockdowns. She writes the column “Dirt City” at Bureau of Complaint. Selected credits include Hobart, Expat Press, Misery Tourism, and IceFloe Press.
Current Issue
26 Sep 2022

Would a Teixcalaanli aristocrat look up at the sky, think of Lsel Station, and wonder—with Auden—"what doubtful act allows/ Our freedom in this English house/ our picnics in the sun"?
I propose that The Expanse and its ilk present us with a similar sentiment, in reverse—a warning that for all the promise of futurism and technological advancement, plenty of new, and perhaps much worse futures are right before us. In the course of outrunning la vieux monde, we may find that we are awaited not simply by new worlds to win, but also many more which may yet be lost.
where oil slurped up out of the dirt, they drink the coffee
Science fiction is a genre that continues to struggle with its own colonialist history, of which many of its portrayals of extractivism are a part. Science fiction is also a genre that has a history of being socially progressive and conscious – these are both truths.
Bring my stones, my bones, back to me
If we are to accept that the extractive unconscious is latent, is everywhere, part of everything, but unseen and unspoken, and killing us in our waking lives, then science fiction constitutes its dreams.
they are quoting Darwish at the picket & i am finally breathing again
Waste is profoundly shaping and changing our society and our way of living. Our daily mundane world always treats waste as a hidden structure, together with its whole ecosystem, and places it beyond our sight, to maintain the glories of contemporary life. But unfortunately, some are advantaged by this, while others suffer.
Like this woman, I am carrying the world on my back.
So we’re talking about a violence that supplants the histories of people and things, scrubbing them clean so that they can fuel the oppressive and unequal status quo it sustains.
Issue 21 Sep 2022
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By: Cat T.
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