Chugging along!

Prologue and index here!

Previous chapter!

It feels a little weird to add a ✨Paypal link, ✨ but hey, writing is hard, so if you want to tip me, I wouldn't say no!

CW for a depressive episode, a repressive dad, and the words "suicidal ideation." Also a slightly nonconsensual bath; I know someone on Twitter found that sort of thing upsetting. It's more of a surprise bath, but yeah.

• I feel as though we're going to have to have a cultural conversation about robots as stand-ins for people in fiction, because I've been hearing people being concerned about robot stories being "pro AI" when the robots are clearly not written as the dumb computer tool AI actually is. Come on, dudes. We anthropomorphize everything. Doesn't mean we're pro-technocrat.

• As somebody who can happily live in a story for months or years at a time, I absolutely do not get people who "already saw it once" and then never want to watch a thing again. In that sense, I guess I'm Jonathan Sims' Wario.

• Sometimes when you're trying to discipline your kid, he drops a total shocker about alternate endings to the cool movie you enjoyed, and you have to tear yourself away from that rabbit hole and try to focus on discipline. Parenting is hard.

---

"I don't want to tell you how to do your job," Thoren said to Dexer, "But do you think Lone Light Distribution could get some new stuff in? I'm dying to see Ugly Blood, and I don't think the Board's gonna approve of it."

"We'll take your suggestion under advisement," Dexer said, zeir voice pitched to a perfect customer-service drone, spitting out the disc Thoren had rented. "But we are experiencing a slight technical issue, which has slowed distribution."

"You gotta get going," Jod complained, looking over the menu. "I've seen all of these before."

"You don't like repeat viewings?" I asked, though I knew the answer.

"Why would I watch something again?"

Index and Prologue!

Previous Chapter!

It feels a little weird to add a ✨Paypal link, ✨ but hey, writing is hard, so if you want to tip me, I wouldn't say no!

Hyperfixating on dumb shit against my will was a source of great angst to Little/Teenage Amelia. I thought I needed to be Intellectual and follow classical pursuits when all I really wanted to do was make up long, sweeping sagas about Super Mario or Star Wars or othersuch lowbrow nonsense. When I expressed my interest in writing, people would ask if I was going to write The Great American Novel, and my soul would die a little bit. It sounded like hell.

Fortunately, when I grew up I realized that writing silly shit about autistic gorillas in Space Pleasantville is totally valid, and leads to a great deal of insight that Deep, Serious Fiction™ might not. It's been a real relief, I tell you.

I also "hated" horror for a lot of my life. I think it scared me and, like Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert, I had a hard time separating that reaction from the concept of it being immoral. I definitely got over that, too!

---

I had to hand it to Thoren: he did come through in earning the money to pay his fine. He did it with bad grace, but he got a job with Mx. Plim running deliveries, and he also did the odd jobs Dad had suggested around the neighborhood. The neighbors teased him about it. I wasn't sure what I'd have done if I got that kind of teasing, but Thoren adopted a carefree, cocksure, bad-boy-but-you-love-it attitude, liked Drack from The Golden Hammer, that the adults seemed to find charming. It wasn't too long before he could spend his pocket money on other things again.

That was good news for me: I had been busy, as well.

Giro had shown me how to burn movies, and I was getting prolific. The only difficulty I had was in trying to gauge what other teenagers would find interesting—I was still stuck on The Golden Hammer, which had hijacked my brain completely. But the other kids had moved on from it, at least as far as I could tell. Zarla was offering recommendations about what was popular, and it was easy enough to see what the theater was running and to go find the original cuts of those films.

( Jod was easy enough to guess. )

Next Chapter!

Last night I was talking about how Baby Amelia was extremely baffled by the phrase "drug store," on account of the D.A.R.E. guys and all the cartoon characters said drugs are BAD, so why would they allow a store for them?

DAD: Hey, the drug store is where I learned about Nazis!
( ME: What )

Index and Prologue!

Previous Chapter!

Hooray, an on-time update!

It feels a little weird to add a ✨Paypal link, ✨ but hey, writing is hard, so if you want to tip me, I wouldn't say no!

CW for body horror and self-sacrifice (in a movie)

• I'm not going to expand on the issues Zarla mentioned in the last chapter. She's got superpowers, but they're not really relevant to this particular story. Though she does come up in others!
• Somehow relevant to this chapter is the song "Belle" from Disney's Beauty & the Beast, where Belle really wants to talk about cool books and stories but nobody else cares. Belle's attempted infodumps really resonated with me. DREEDO'S GONNA GET THE TOWNSFOLK DISCUSSING MOVIES IF IT KILLS HIM
• Many thanks to my buddy Fade for consultation on ADHD medication. Giro's brain is a complicated labyrinth.
• The running courgette joke is a running gag for my own dislike of zucchini, which, if you ask me, can go fuck itself, but which I am assured other people enjoy. Those people are weird.
• One time in college I happened across a TV edit of Ridley Scott's Hannibal, and it was the funniest thing ever. I mean, okay, that movie's pretty ridiculous anyway, but Ray Liotta kept his frat-bro hat on all throughout That One Scene, and it was completely unintelligible.
• As a Utahn, I actually had a few friends who swore by CleanFlicks, or would have, if any of them swore. I can totally understand the appeal of getting a movie that won't trigger an upset, but on the other hand I've had some really good mind-blowing feelings when I've gone out of my comfort zone before. The tale of my discovery of horror through Alien is a long saga, and it also includes Ridley Scott, so shoutout to Ridley Scott, I guess.

---

Zevon, we have a problem with PQ896.

What do you mean? The study's over. It was a wild success.

I've been going back over the questionnaires, and have noted a discrepancy.

The two that reported adverse reactions had handwriting that didn't match the signatures of the guardians at the bottom.

So what?

So it appears that in those two cases, the subjects themselves filled out their questionnaires, whereas in the others, the parents filled them out.

This error in our protocol has led to differing reports. It's possible that many more subjects had adverse reactions, but they were not recognized as adverse by the parents.

I would like to do post-study interviews of the other subjects.

Bel, we've closed this. It's over. We're moving on to PQ now.

Yes, but new findings have come to light. It is possible the other patients are experiencing similar problems. E06 reported myoclonic jerks, disrupted sleep patterns, lethargy, drowsiness, mood swings, nightmares, ataxia, vertigo. The implants need further refinement.

The parents are reporting satisfactory results. I'd say we've done our job.

That depends on what our job is.

Look, if you want to refine it, you're always welcome to submit a new proposal. But this is a done deal, Bel.

Sorry.

Let's focus on CN12.

#

Next Chapter!

Prlogue and Index!

Previous Chapter!

I was in my mid-30s when I read a Twitter thread explaining to autistic people that when people are angry and ask you questions like "Why were you late?" they are not actually looking for an explanation and will regard your answers as excuses. Holy hell, y'all. That explained SO. MUCH.

It is extremely jarring to talk to someone who remembers a movie/book as being utterly different from what you remember. I once had a conversation with someone who insisted that the Shitty Kids die in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, when I clearly remember a chapter called "The Other Children Go Home." It was very confusing and upsetting, and I had to go look at my copy of the book to prove that it was there. I have always wondered about that, especially after finding out about the Oompa Loompa revisions.

CW: Shitty family members, animal death, animal dissection, upsetting movie gaslighting, I guess, and Autism Warrior Moms. Also space tobacco.

---

Civic Hygiene recommended going to the theater for Sightseeing movies as a way to connect us to our planet of origin; to help us contemplate our connection to it and our duty to it. History class told us to consider where the Great Protector got zeir start. (I probably should do something to get on the history teacher's good side after accidentally making an enemy of her; it turns out you're not supposed to ask about plot holes in scripture.)

But Thoren and his friends had decided we were going to see the new action flick, The Golden Hammer. He and the rest of the Ball team were passing a pouch of dust between them, which was not only delinquent, but also unsanitary, , plus it led to a lot of obnoxious sniffling and a few sneezes. I should really report it, but I remembered how Mr. Sordell and Nielli had reacted last time I reported a problem, and it seemed like way too much trouble. I didn't take any when Thoren offered me the pouch, though.

Prologue and Index here!

Previous Chapter!

It feels a little weird to add a ✨Paypal link, ✨ but hey, writing is hard, so if you want to tip me, I wouldn't say no!

Note that the formatting is a little weird; you might have to sidescroll through certain parts to read all of it.

Do I have feelings about group projects? You bet I do!

Also, the pressure to change the world as a kid is strong when you take things literally. It's really difficult.

But hey, social media opens up new horizons even if your home doesn't have a horizon!

---

I wound up doing most of the project by myself, of course. I don't know what Mr. Sordell expected; the others didn't take it seriously. The work they did was halfhearted and slovenly, so I had to redo a lot of it anyway.

Dad had suggested that we start with observations, so while the others went to practice and games, I found two colonies of feral sixcats to observe: one that gathered near the library's garden, and one that roamed the maintenance alleys behind Plim's and the surrounding businesses. (I suspected the latter was Toast's original colony. I wondered if I should put her back with them, but Dad said she seemed happy where she was.)

Dad's tablet was immensely useful. I found an old charger in a junk pile behind Plim's, so I could hang onto it indefinitely. I was learning where and how to look for information on ecomanagement and feral sixcat colonies. And Dad's various experimental notes were excellent models for my own studies. But the amount of helpful information in the Greater Galactic Database meant I could find help with that, too.

( Also, the sixcat videos were adorable. )

Here's the prologue, and the index page!

I have no idea if I'm going to update on a schedule; signs point to no. Sorry about that!

Assuming good faith bites me in the ass all the time. Took me a lifetime to realize that was the problem.

I'm avoiding physical descriptions in the actual text because I am led to understand that readers have difficulty connecting with alien main characters. Regardless, if you're wondering, koranos are not actually humans, but they are human-equivalent: furry humanoid aliens who resemble archaic humans and might be mistaken for large, fuzzy Homo habilis. You know, space gorillas.

Paquos resemble rubber-hose cartoon characters. They're bipedally humanoid, shortish (around 4 feet), ambiguously mammalian, red-green colorblind, dark-furred, and have high-contrast light markings on their faces. They also have highly mobile, expressive ears.

Both species are native to Feavah.

---

Dad's experiments didn't have many outliers like the Palbert boy. The pilot trials for the implants ended by the next school cycle, and the experimental groups joined the public schools.

Technically, so did the control groups. Though the experiment was over and unblinded, it wasn't necessary to tell nonparticipants who was in which group—but it was easy enough to figure it out by the classes the teachers placed them in. The control participants, the ones without the implants, were disruptive, unfocused, unable to consistently do school work, antisocial, and messy—overall, leaning toward delinquency.

Maybe his being in the experimental group was why it was hard to reconcile the amiable-looking Palbert boy with the delinquents we saw in Civic Hygiene videos: hoodlums who threw cigar butts on the ground, stole packets of settling dust from the store, and scribbled rude things on bathroom walls and diner booths. Maybe he would have been more like them if he didn't have an implant.

Nielli Brones wasn't part of Dad's trial, being a korano, but that was pretty much all I knew about her until one day when she suddenly became relevant by sitting in my recess Quiet Spot.

Recess was another one of those things I did wrong, but how was I supposed to play with others when we had to spend so many hours trying to hold our attention on boring things? How did the other kids not need to relax their brains with a nice walk or a few minutes sitting in a copse, a Quiet Spot, staring at the sky panels or examining blades of grass while they contemplated the universe?

Nielli was not examining grass. She was fiddling with … something. Something small and shiny that cast a flicker of colorful light across her face.

( It beeped. )

On Saturdays I work in the Space Place Dome Theater with Jan, a boomer who is so bubbly and batty, with such eccentric pronunciation, that I haven't ruled out that she might actually be in an evil coven such as the ones you're always seeing in Satanic granny media.* Jan was doing the star identification intro at the console, and I was sitting on the floor in the corner enjoying my tea.

JAN: ... Orion, Canis Major ...
SOMETHING IN THE SHADOWS UNDER THE CONSOLE: *wiggle*
ME: ?
JAN: ... Leo, rɛdʒʊlʊs ...
MOUSE: hi
ME: *internally* Well, well, well. It appears the maintenance guy's email about rodents in the building is out of date! They have reached the Dome!
MOUSE: eep! a human! *scamper*

And that's how I met our resident varmint!

[after the show]
ME: So, there's a mouse.
JAN: A MOUSE?!
ME: It was skittering around down here.
ME: *pointing flashlight* It went under the console.
JAN: A LIVE MOUSE?!
ME: I already texted our maintenance guy.
ME: Gonna go down and let the supervisors know, and grab some supplies
JAN: *SHRIEK*
ME: *running back up the stairs* WHAT? Are you okay?
JAN: *pointing dramatically* THERE IT IS!
MOUSE: you guys have the best audience, you know that? they sneak food in here all the time and drop it on the floor, probably for me! ♥️
ME: Gonna put on my rubber gloves
ME: In case I get astronomically lucky
MOUSE: well i can see i'm no longer welcome here, bye!
MOUSE: *disappears down one of our cable-conduit pipes like fuckin Mario*

So I told the supervisor, and the custodian,** because what the hell was I planning to do with the rubber gloves, and the supervisor got a trap and marched up to the console to set it up. Jan held her flashlight, and they both crouched way under the console desk to examine the mouse's warp pipe.

MOUSE: can i help you?
JAN: EEEEEK!

And then, in her haste to get away, Jan proceeded to whack her head on the underside of the console desk, and the supervisor scrambled back on all fours and ran screaming from the dome.

The rest of the day was a tense psychological thriller as Jan sat with her feet up in her office chair, fretting about The Mouse's whereabouts and her flowy pants and "open-toed shoes," which were some definition of "open-toed" that was beyond me, on account of being close-toed, and periodically checking under the console with her flashlight and shrieking when the mouse would poke its head out of its warp pipe.

ME: Don't put your head under the desk again, okay? I'm not sure if I could tell if you had a concussion
JAN: I'm gonna go home and change into mouse-proof clothes on my break.
ME: I doubt the mouse is gonna wind up in your shoes or pants, but I hate anxiety, and if changing will help alleviate yours, then go for it.

I didn't want to laugh, because phobic reactions like that are involuntary and unpleasant, and lord knows I have phobic reactions to dumb shit, too.*** But I also have this core-deep sense that every phobia is kind of absurd, so it did strike me kinda funny.

Anyway, Jan got through her shift unsqueaked, and took off for home, and I was there waiting for the next presenter to come in, vacuuming and grumbling about the absolute goddamn slobs our patrons are. Seriously, we don't allow popcorn in the Dome. Why is it everywhere? Do they trail it in like comets' tails? WHY DO WE SELL POPCORN.

NEXT-SHIFT COWORKER: Hey.
ME: Hey. So we're probably going to regret this conversation, but are you afraid of mice?


*I even caught her listening to Mötley Crüe, which I hear is Of The Devil!

JAN: With the music I listen to, you would never guess I'm a senior citizen, would you?
ME: I dunno, aren't most of the band members senior citizens by now?

**Custodian has taken it upon himself to help me practice my Spanish. He was very proud of me for my casual "Hay un ratón en el domo."

***You chew on ONE BALLOON with your tiny sharp toddler teeth and suddenly you've got a lifelong anxiety. Limbic systems are idiots.

A few years ago I wrote a winter fairy tale for my constructed world. I think it's pretty good. What do y'all think?

Gotta say, after Hbomberguy's extremely thorough takedown of a plagiarizing YouTube Guy I feel a little better about a big fear of mine: cryptomnesia.

I have a hell of a good memory, and I retain information pretty well. This can be a problem when 1. the information I absorbed is wrong,* or 2. it pops up in my brain as something I think I'm coming up with on my own, which is the definition of cryptomnesia. I think it has to do with how I synthesize information as chunks, metaphors, references, and even a sort of echolalia, which I've noticed on this blog specifically.** But yeah, I have this fear of accidentally stealing other people's ideas.

But watching this video kind of lays that fear to rest. I still want to be careful and fact check myself, but there's no goddamn way I'm gonna wind up stealing entire passages from somebody else and then reword them stupidly. I can assure you that it's REALLY EASY not to copy huge chunks of text from someone else's work and pass it off as my own, so I don't have to worry so much about that.

What a relief.


*This is why I tend to fact check myself when I impart an Interesting Anecdote or Fact. Because who knows if the information I'm retaining is true?

**Ask me about my theories on Stranger Things as modeling neurodivergent storytelling! It's like watching a Darmok alien try to tell an original story!