Podcasts about tesseracts

01. Dubblet & Arlo Star - Strangers To Friends 02. Phadix - All My Life 03. Ggrossy - Crown 04. Hasky - Make You Mine 05. Sønin - Rush (Changing Faces Remix) 06. John B - Das Boot 07. [Ivy] - No Reason To Cry 08. I.C.U - Alone 09. Rex Hooligan - Fantasy 10. Alphas Wear Grey - Make It Smooth 11. Refracta & Charlotte X - Atmosphere 12. S.P.Y., Grace Barton & Cmd/Ctrl - Beautiful Thing 13. Vercu - Temptation 14. Seventhrun - Closer 15. 1991 & Rova - Hijack 16. Raido feat. Symplex - Rave Digger 17. Onebyone - Hypnotize 18. Blooom/Maksim Mc - Purpose 19. Wilkinson, Camo & Krooked, Mefjus, Ilira - Lose Control 20. Malinoviy John - Open Glaza 21. Current Value - Mag 1 22. Despersion - Show Me 23. Nickbee, Kraek - Trenches 24. Notequal - Vendigo 25. Typecell - Don't Make Friends With Salad 26. Tesseracts, Gravity - Injure Them (Meph Remix) 27. Beyond The Beat, Sly Chaos, Cee Blu - Go & Be Free 28. Dsp & Ed:It - Burnin' 29. Business As Usual, Oktae - Everything In Place 30. Crystal Clear - Kingpin 31. Minimal Drama - All Night 32. Ashflo - Laser 33. Revolve - Campinas 34. Nemy Tasmanian Devil 35. Simula - Count 10 36.Nemy - Homo Lupus 37.Tryst Temps - Antimatter 38.Arkaik - The Woodpecker 39.Sola - Spank 40.Rendah/Comma Dee - Step In The Dance 41.Monrroe - Cold Shoulder Therapy 42.Spookasonic & Kensei - Letterman Jacket 43.Dopplershift - Keeper 44.Degs & Hoax - Smokescreen Sprayout 45.Djss - Numbers 46.Degs & 4K & Hologram - Pressure 47.The Sauce, Logan Olm - We Run Things 48.Sweetpea - Change 49.Veak - Hey! 50.Varkid - Think Of Me 51.Dux N Bass - When Your Eyes Meet Mine (feat. Don Darkoe) 52.Kouncilhouse - Yeah That's Naughty 53.Solix - Invaders 54.Danger - Out Of Control 55.Gino - Who They Are 56.Ozone - I'M Bad 57.Latte - Everybody Skank 58.Bare Up - Down To Party 59.Tomoyoshi - Madness & Creation 60.Hillsdom - Jynx 61.Numeric Space - Rhythm Of The Lost 62.Testament - Jiggle It 63.Bsyho - Dark Bramble 64.Kumarachi - Blizzard 65.Calling For Drums, Gwillz - Wistful 66.Dj Trace - Dibby (Hlz Vip) 67.Frosper, Tweedlex - Godzilla Jazz 68.Unglued - Junglued 69.Levela & Bennie feat. Boy Bellers - Bassline Murder 70.Gardna/Lau.Ra - Live Your Life (Aries Remix) 71.Bruk Rogers - Get Low (Zero T Remix) 72.Iskia - God's Love 73.Decaz - Uncertainty 74.Submorphics - Cinerama (Primitive Instinct Remix) 75.Nichenka Zoryana & Amigosu - Havesansen 76.Aaron Payne/Frank H. Carter Iii. - Remember When 77.Dj Nay - Dip It Low 78.Wez Walker - Give Me Something 79.Philth, Creatures - What You Want 80.Radicall - Emotive feat. Katee 81.Dogger, Catching Cairo & Slay - White Flag 82.Phadix - Origins

GVOZD vibez: 1.DubbleT & Arlo Star - Strangers To Friends 2.Phadix - All My Life 3.GGrossy - Crown 4.HASKY - Make You Mine 5.SØNIN- Rush (Changing Faces Remix) 6.John B- Das Boot 7.[IVY] - no reason to cry 8.I.C.U - Alone 9.Rex Hooligan - Fantasy 10.Alphas Wear Grey - Make it Smooth 11.Refracta & Charlotte X - Atmosphere 12.S.P.Y., Grace Barton & CMD/CTRL - Beautiful Thing 13.VERCU - Temptation 14.Seventhrun - Closer 15.1991 & Rova - Hijack 16.RAIDO feat. Symplex - Rave Digger 17.oneBYone - Hypnotize 18.Blooom/Maksim MC - PURPOSE 19.Wilkinson, Camo & Krooked, Mefjus, ILIRA - Lose Control 20.Malinoviy John - Open Glaza 21.Current Value - MAG 1 22.Despersion - Show Me 23.NickBee, KRAEK - Trenches 24.Notequal - Vendigo 25.TypeCell - Don't make Friends with Salad 26.TESSERACTS, Gravity - Injure Them (Meph Remix) 27.Beyond the Beat, Sly Chaos, Cee Blu - Go & Be Free 28.DSP & Ed:it - Burnin' 29.Business as Usual, Oktae - Everything In Place 30.Crystal Clear - Kingpin 31.Minimal Drama - All Night 32.Ashflo- Laser 33.Revolve - Campinas 34.NemyTasmanian Devil 35.Simula - Count 10 36.Nemy - Homo Lupus 37.Tryst Temps - Antimatter 38.Arkaik - The Woodpecker 39.Sola - Spank 40.Rendah/Comma Dee - STEP IN THE DANCE 41.Monrroe - Cold Shoulder Therapy 42.Spookasonic & Kensei - Letterman Jacket 43.Dopplershift - Keeper 44.Degs & Hoax - Smokescreen Sprayout 45.DJSS - NUMBERS 46.Degs & 4K & Hologram - Pressure 47.The Sauce, Logan_olm - We Run Things 48.Sweetpea - Change 49.Veak - Hey! 50.Varkid - Think Of Me 51.Dux n Bass - When Your Eyes Meet Mine (feat. Don Darkoe) 52.Kouncilhouse - Yeah That's Naughty 53.Solix - Invaders 54.Danger - Out Of Control 55.Gino - Who They Are 56.Ozone - I'm Bad 57.Latte - Everybody Skank 58.Bare Up - Down To Party 59.Tomoyoshi - Madness & Creation 60.Hillsdom - Jynx 61.Numeric Space - Rhythm of the Lost 62.Testament - Jiggle It 63.BSYHO - Dark Bramble 64.Kumarachi - Blizzard 65.Calling For Drums, Gwillz - Wistful 66.DJ Trace - Dibby (HLZ VIP) 67.Frosper, Tweedlex - Godzilla Jazz 68.Unglued - JUNGLUED 69.Levela & Bennie feat. Boy Bellers - Bassline Murder 70.Gardna/lau.ra - Live Your Life (Aries Remix) 71.Bruk Rogers - Get Low (Zero T Remix) 72.Iskia - God's Love 73.Decaz - Uncertainty 74.Submorphics - Cinerama (Primitive Instinct Remix) 75.Nichenka Zoryana & Amigosu- Havesansen 76.Aaron Payne/Frank H. Carter III. - Remember When 77.DJ Nay - Dip It Low 78.Wez Walker - Give Me Something 79.Philth, Creatures - What You Want 80.Radicall - Emotive feat. Katee 81.Dogger, Catching Cairo & Slay - White Flag 82.Phadix - Origins

Get ready for TESSERACTS' newest podcast on Eatbrain, where neurofunk collides with hip-hop, creating an unpredictable journey through sound. Tune in for hard-hitting beats and intricate rhythms! /artist @tesseracts_bass facebook.com/TESSERACTS.bass instagram.com/tesseracts.bass/ //label facebook.com/Eatbra1n twitter.com/eatbrain_now instagram.com/eatbrain eatbrain.net 1. Blues Brothers - Everybody Needs Somebody (TESSERACTS Remix) 2. MUZZ & Flite - Elevate (feat. Miss Trouble) 3. TESSERACTS - Two Turntables and the Mic 4. Cesco - Fake 5. Whiney - Game Face (feat. Inja) 6. Tom Finister - Night On Earth (Vorso Remix) 7. TESSERACTS - MISSION (unreleased) 8. TESSERACTS - SAVAGE (unreleased) 9. Moytra & Trinist - False Motion 10. BACKBONE (TESSERACTS Remix) 11. TESSERACTS - Crazy 12. TESSERACTS - CEO Of Underground 13. Far Too Loud - Lightbringer 14. Barely Alive - Warrior (ft. Mad Hed City) 15. Gydra, Optiv & CZA - Raw Code 16. TNTKLZ - Damned Pulsation 17. Ceptre - Violent Thoughts 18. TESSERACTS - DERBY (wip) 19. Gydra - Cucumber 20. Caster - Duel Of The Fates 21. MUZZ - New Age (ft. Celldweller) 22. TESSERACTS - LISTEN TO THE SOUND (wip) 23. Fox Stevenson - All Eyes On Me 24. Temam & MVRK - Arcane (Malux Remix) 25. TESSERACTS - HALLELUJAH! (wip) 26. Ankou - Ember (all your friends Remix) 27. ID x ID x ID - ID 28. Mefjus - Fractured 29. TESSERACTS - ID [Risk] (unreleased) 30. Crissy Criss ft. Inja - Launch (Urbandawn Remix) 31. ILLENIUM - Story Of My Life (ft. Sueco & Trippie Redd) [RIOT Remix] 32. Terrified (TESSERACTS Remix) 33. Mefjus - Muskox 34. Pythius - Monster Black Hole 35. State Of Mind & Coppa - Chain Reaction 36. Joe Ford - Lumbering Beast 37. L 33 - Clublife (Prolix Remix) 38. Gydra & Fatloaf - Sphere 39. Annix - Droids (ft. Maxim MC) 40. MUZZ - The Warehouse (ft. PAV4N & Miss Trouble) 41. State Of Mind - Lockdown 42. Noisia - Concussion (Mefjus Remix) 43. MPH - One Sixty 44. TESSERACTS - MOVE YOUR BODY (dubplate) 45. Nitepunk & Soh Soh - Function 46. Basstyler - Cheated (Pluvio & Afghan Headspin Remix) 47. TESSERACTS - YOU KNOW WHAT (unreleased) 48. SELECTA (BIG BLOCK Dubz Remix) [unreleased] 49. TESSERACTS - WORK (unreleased) 50. TESSERACTS - INTERRUPT 51. TESSERACTS - HEATPUNK

Hey everyone,We're back with another packed episode! This week, we're bringing you fresh tracks from Skrimor, Theezer & Sindicate, TESSERACTS, and AKOV, along with plenty more to keep you locked in.In Demos, WIPs, and Promos, we're diving into killer cuts from Pish Posh & ESKR, TRCD & The FIFTH (featuring Dark D), DIODE, and Stonx.As always, Ollie's here to guide you through the best of what's out there.TRACKLIST AND MORE INFO:https://www.stonxmusic.co.uk/stonxcast-ep123Stonx Music 2024 Annual -https://cygnusmusic.link/jrrv3qmDon't forget you can catch us LIVE recording Stonxcast on Twitch every Friday at 7pm (UK)

Hey everyone,As the year draws to a close, the bangers just keep coming! This week, we're spinning fresh tracks from Qmare & Nator, Nais, Prdk & RAIDO, and TRCD, with plenty more to keep your playlists stacked.In Demos, WIPs, and Promos, we're diving into tunes from CPTL PNSHMNT, MYGR, Neothrope, and TESSERACTS—get ready for some serious heat.As always, Ollie's here to guide you through the freshest sounds of the week.TRACKLIST AND MORE INFO: https://www.stonxmusic.co.uk/stonxcast-ep121Stonx Music 2024 Annual -https://www.beatport.com/release/annual-2024/4832284Don't forget you can catch us LIVE recording Stonxcast on Twitch every Friday at 7pm (UK)

Guest Mix By Dj Detach: 01. Ondamike - Ass Back Home (+Baby's Got A Temper Acapella) - Dj Detach Intro [Ravesta] 02. Dj Detach & Affalina - Rex Pex Fex (Original Mix) [IBWT Music] 03. Dj DIlect & Dial uP - Hot Like Me (Dj Detach Edit) [Ravesta] 04. Ondamike - Yeah Yeah Yeah (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 05. The Push vs BeatsMe - Feel Alive Fate (Dj Detach & Affalina Mash Up) [Cdr] 06. The Darrow Chem Syndicate - Alcatraz (Hankook & Perfect Kombo Remix) [Nipponeer] 07. Dj30A, BBK - Coast To Coast (Original Mix) [Kaleidoscope Music] 08. Jiro - Deep Hole (Original Mix) [Elektroshok] 09. Ondamike - Wait 4 Tha Weekend (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 10. Ondamike - The Electro Computer (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 11. Bassline Junkie - Hazard Sound (Original Mix) [IBWT Music] 12. Rasco & Perfect Kombo - Aghata (Breaks Remix 2022) [Cdr] 13. Dj Detach & Affalina vs United States Beat Squad - Faith In You (Original Mix) [ElectroBreakz] 14. Ondamike - Believe Me (Extended Mix) [Ravesta] 15. Ondamike - Bad Ass Beat (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 16. Tempotem & Zubovo - Top Banda (Dj Detach & Affalina Remix) [IBWT Music] 17. Freestylers - Electrified (Deepcut Remix) [Against The Grain] 18. FM-3 & Jose Rodriguez - Funky Beats (Original Mix) [Banana Club] 19. Dj Detach feat. MC Intimiator - Who Needs A Hook (VIP Mix) [Break-Box] 20. Ondamike - Break Free (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 21. Dj DIlect - Monsters (Dj Detach & Affalina Edit) [Ravesta] 22. GUAU & Destroyers - Lambo (Original Mix) [83] 23. United States Beat Squad & Kid Panel - Tied Up (Original Mix) [Diablo Loco] 24. MIAU, Maybe One - Bomba (Original Mix) [Samay] 25. Deekline, Splack Pack, Sporty-O, Dustin Hulton - Whip It (KMFX Remix) [Rat Records UK] 26. Ondamike - Super Bass (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 27. Ondamike - Ill Mind Of Hospin (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 28. Ondamike - Pop That Puxxy (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 29. System Buzz - Boo Yah! (Ondamike Remix) [Ravesta] 30. Ondamike - Hella Good (VIP Mix) [Ravesta] 31. Tesseracts - Never Say Never (Original Mix) [Symbiotik Records] 32. Destroyers - Right Here (Original Mix) [Elektroshok] 33. NOSK - Unreal (Original Mix) [83] 34. Dj Mutiny - Soul Runner (Superstyle Deluxe Remix Dj Detach Edit) [Botchit Breaks] 35. Brownstone - If You Love Me (The Push Remix) [Cdr] 36. Huda Gudia & DJ30A - La Independencia (Original Mix) [Kaleidoscope Music] 37. Aggresivnes - You Fool (Original Mix) [Elektroshok] 38. Tesseracts, Enkei feat. Whiskey Pete - Never Pass Me (Dj Detach Edit) [Play Me] 39. Смешарики - Индийский Чай (Dj Detach Remix) [Cdr] 40. Ondamike - Project S (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 41. Ondamike - Cameltoe (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 42. DJ DIlect, Dial uP vs Ondamike - We Dont't Stop The One (Dj Detach & Affalina Mash Up) [Ravesta] 43. Huda Hudia, DJ30A - Independence Day (Original Mix) [Kaleidoscope Music] 44. Urbano - Shiva (Kid Panel Remix) [Raveart] 45. Ondamike - Everybody Dance Now (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 46. Ondamike, Mark Vee - Lights On (Rewrk Mix) [Ravesta] 47. Ondamike - Power Of Love (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 48. Ondamike - Eye Of The Tiger (Rewrk Mix) [Ravesta] 39. Noggano - Sobaka (The BassBalls Remix) [Cdr] 40. Ondamike - F Axel (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 41. Black Jack - Footbolka (Dj Detach & Affalina Remix) [Cdr] 42. Perfect Kombo - Brooklyn (Original Mix) [Elektroshok] 43. DJ30A & Huda Hudia - I Come Correct (Original Mix) [Kaleidoscope Music] 44. The Bass Droppers - Red & Green (Ondamike Remix) [Ravesta] 45. Ondamike, DJ30A - Bboy Stance (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 46. Dj Detach - I Need More Power (Original Mix) [Toast & Jam] 47. Kid Digital feat. MR Reload - Beat To The Breaker (Ondamike Remix) [BBZ] 48. Yankee feat. Lesther Scratch - Kadizfornia (Original Mix) [Distorsion] 49. Tokio Machine - Hype (Original Mix) [Monstercat] 50. Ondamike - Spooky (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 51. Vanilla Skillz & Stonewash - Loose Control (VIP Mix) [Break-Box]

Guest Mix By Dj Detach: 01. Ondamike - Ass Back Home (+Baby's Got A Temper Acapella) - Dj Detach Intro [Ravesta] 02. Dj Detach & Affalina - Rex Pex Fex (Original Mix) [IBWT Music] 03. Dj DIlect & Dial uP - Hot Like Me (Dj Detach Edit) [Ravesta] 04. Ondamike - Yeah Yeah Yeah (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 05. The Push vs BeatsMe - Feel Alive Fate (Dj Detach & Affalina Mash Up) [Cdr] 06. The Darrow Chem Syndicate - Alcatraz (Hankook & Perfect Kombo Remix) [Nipponeer] 07. Dj30A, BBK - Coast To Coast (Original Mix) [Kaleidoscope Music] 08. Jiro - Deep Hole (Original Mix) [Elektroshok] 09. Ondamike - Wait 4 Tha Weekend (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 10. Ondamike - The Electro Computer (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 11. Bassline Junkie - Hazard Sound (Original Mix) [IBWT Music] 12. Rasco & Perfect Kombo - Aghata (Breaks Remix 2022) [Cdr] 13. Dj Detach & Affalina vs United States Beat Squad - Faith In You (Original Mix) [ElectroBreakz] 14. Ondamike - Believe Me (Extended Mix) [Ravesta] 15. Ondamike - Bad Ass Beat (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 16. Tempotem & Zubovo - Top Banda (Dj Detach & Affalina Remix) [IBWT Music] 17. Freestylers - Electrified (Deepcut Remix) [Against The Grain] 18. FM-3 & Jose Rodriguez - Funky Beats (Original Mix) [Banana Club] 19. Dj Detach feat. MC Intimiator - Who Needs A Hook (VIP Mix) [Break-Box] 20. Ondamike - Break Free (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 21. Dj DIlect - Monsters (Dj Detach & Affalina Edit) [Ravesta] 22. GUAU & Destroyers - Lambo (Original Mix) [83] 23. United States Beat Squad & Kid Panel - Tied Up (Original Mix) [Diablo Loco] 24. MIAU, Maybe One - Bomba (Original Mix) [Samay] 25. Deekline, Splack Pack, Sporty-O, Dustin Hulton - Whip It (KMFX Remix) [Rat Records UK] 26. Ondamike - Super Bass (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 27. Ondamike - Ill Mind Of Hospin (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 28. Ondamike - Pop That Puxxy (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 29. System Buzz - Boo Yah! (Ondamike Remix) [Ravesta] 30. Ondamike - Hella Good (VIP Mix) [Ravesta] 31. Tesseracts - Never Say Never (Original Mix) [Symbiotik Records] 32. Destroyers - Right Here (Original Mix) [Elektroshok] 33. NOSK - Unreal (Original Mix) [83] 34. Dj Mutiny - Soul Runner (Superstyle Deluxe Remix Dj Detach Edit) [Botchit Breaks] 35. Brownstone - If You Love Me (The Push Remix) [Cdr] 36. Huda Gudia & DJ30A - La Independencia (Original Mix) [Kaleidoscope Music] 37. Aggresivnes - You Fool (Original Mix) [Elektroshok] 38. Tesseracts, Enkei feat. Whiskey Pete - Never Pass Me (Dj Detach Edit) [Play Me] 39. Смешарики - Индийский Чай (Dj Detach Remix) [Cdr] 40. Ondamike - Project S (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 41. Ondamike - Cameltoe (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 42. DJ DIlect, Dial uP vs Ondamike - We Dont't Stop The One (Dj Detach & Affalina Mash Up) [Ravesta] 43. Huda Hudia, DJ30A - Independence Day (Original Mix) [Kaleidoscope Music] 44. Urbano - Shiva (Kid Panel Remix) [Raveart] 45. Ondamike - Everybody Dance Now (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 46. Ondamike, Mark Vee - Lights On (Rewrk Mix) [Ravesta] 47. Ondamike - Power Of Love (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 48. Ondamike - Eye Of The Tiger (Rewrk Mix) [Ravesta] 39. Noggano - Sobaka (The BassBalls Remix) [Cdr] 40. Ondamike - F Axel (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 41. Black Jack - Footbolka (Dj Detach & Affalina Remix) [Cdr] 42. Perfect Kombo - Brooklyn (Original Mix) [Elektroshok] 43. DJ30A & Huda Hudia - I Come Correct (Original Mix) [Kaleidoscope Music] 44. The Bass Droppers - Red & Green (Ondamike Remix) [Ravesta] 45. Ondamike, DJ30A - Bboy Stance (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 46. Dj Detach - I Need More Power (Original Mix) [Toast & Jam] 47. Kid Digital feat. MR Reload - Beat To The Breaker (Ondamike Remix) [BBZ] 48. Yankee feat. Lesther Scratch - Kadizfornia (Original Mix) [Distorsion] 49. Tokio Machine - Hype (Original Mix) [Monstercat] 50. Ondamike - Spooky (Original Mix) [Ravesta] 51. Vanilla Skillz & Stonewash - Loose Control (VIP Mix) [Break-Box]

Arlington, Virginia writer Jack Nash is the Grand Prize Winner in the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest earning him the Golden Pen Award trophy and $5,000. His winning story, "Son, Spirit, Snake," is published in the international bestselling anthology, L. Ron Hubbard Presents Writers of the Future Volume 40 which has an official release date of May 7th. Mr. Nash was honored along with the other winners in the Writers and Illustrators of the Future Contests on April 25th at the Taglyan Complex in Hollywood, California. Jack Nash started writing when he became a speech and ghostwriter for a former head of state and Nobel Peace Prize winner. After his non-accredited work appeared in places like The New York Times, The Economist, and received standing ovations at the Nobel Foundation, he began to wonder what he could achieve if he turned towards fiction. He began seriously writing speculative stories in late 2021, and he received the call that he would be published in Writers of the Future one year plus one day after his first professional sale to The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction. As a result, he is now strongly superstitious. Originally from the deserts of the American West, Jack now wanders the urban forests of Virginia with his wife and daughter. The Contest, one of the most prestigious writing and illustrating competitions in the world, is currently in its 41st year and is judged by some of the premier names in speculative fiction. Mark Leslie Lefebvre is the author of more than thirty books that include the award-winning humorous urban fantasy Canadian Werewolf series— hailed by readers as “the thinking man's werewolf”—and his award-nominated ghostly explorations such as Haunted Hospitals and Tomes of Terror. He is also the editor of more than ten anthologies that include titles in the Hugo Award Nominated Pulphouse Fiction Magazine and the Aurora Award-winning Tesseracts series, which showcases the best in Canadian speculative fiction. His work has been translated into French, Italian, and German. While choosing the shorter and easier-to-spell moniker of Mark Leslie for most of his writing, Mark leverages his full name for work in inspiring, informing, and assisting other authors. Mark's first short story was published in 1992, the same year he began in the book industry. He is a tireless advocate for libraries, bookstores, and other authors and has held the roles of president of The Canadian Booksellers Association, board member for BookNet Canada, chair of the Professional Advisor Committee for Sheridan College's Honours Degree in Writing and Publishing, and Director of Self-Publishing and Author Relations for Rakuten, Kobo, Inc. where he launched Kobo Writing Life. A pioneer in digital publishing, Mark has embraced both traditional and self-publishing routes and continues to look for new ways that technology and innovation can improve the industry for all authors. He has appeared on countless podcasts, television, and radio programs and has spoken on stages across Canada and the United States as well as in England, Germany, France, and Italy. Mark's weekly podcast, Stark Reflections on Writing and Publishing—launched in January 2018— takes an unflinching look at the reality of the publishing world with a balanced take on the pros and cons of various publishing routes. One of his greatest passions is helping writers navigate the bold new realms and opportunities that continue to unfold as the industry evolves. Mark Leslie Lefebvre became a Writers of the Future judge in Find out more at: markleslie.ca

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01. Sporty-O - Showtime (ILL DJ Chris B Original Mix) + Мэйби Бэйби - DURAGA 02. OnDaMiKe - Cameltoe (Original Mix) 03. Dial uP, DJ DIlect vs Ondamike - We Don't Stop The One (Dj Detach & Affalina Mash Up) 04. Dj Detach - Kreon (Original Mix) 05. Trampa feat. Nolay - All Night (Original Mix) 06. Bhad Bhabie - Do It Like Me (Original Mix) 07. Tesseracts, Enkei feat. Whiskey Pete - Newer Pass Me (DJ Detach & Affalina Edit) 08. Orebeat & Citybox - Lets Drop (Original Mix) 09. Sergei Orange, Kelle - Run (Dj Detach & BreakID Remix) 10. The Placenta & IMKFM - Kinesthetic Groove (Dj Detach Remix) 11. Dj Detach - Timeline (Original Mix) 12. Ivy Lab - Backshifting (Original Mix) 13. Ondamike feat. Sporty-O - Boom (Original Mix) 14. Ondamike - I Don't Give AF (Original Mix) 15. Tempotem & Zubovo - Top Banda (Affalina & Dj Detach Remix) 16. Guau & Destroyers - Lambo (Original Mix) 17. MIAU, Maybe One - Bomba (Origina Mix) 18. Code Breakerz & Majestic Noise - In Your Face (Original Mix) 19. Tokyo Machine - Bleep Bloop (Original Mix) 20. Shndō - HARIKĒN (Extended Mix) 21. Bios Destruction - Hell Fruits (Original Mix) 22. Sunsha - Hyper (Original Mix) 23. MIAU, Mary Goodman, Adro Garge vs Мистер Малой & b0n - Буду Погибать Молодым (Dj Detach Mash Up) 24. Mind Artifice - Ethereal (Original Mix) 25. Omar Santana & Dre Hectic- Slutronica (Original Mix) 26. Bios Destruction - The End (Original Mix) 27. Bios Destruction - Prey (Original Mix)

01. Sporty-O - Showtime (ILL DJ Chris B Original Mix) + Мэйби Бэйби - DURAGA 02. OnDaMiKe - Cameltoe (Original Mix) 03. Dial uP, DJ DIlect vs Ondamike - We Don't Stop The One (Dj Detach & Affalina Mash Up) 04. Dj Detach - Kreon (Original Mix) 05. Trampa feat. Nolay - All Night (Original Mix) 06. Bhad Bhabie - Do It Like Me (Original Mix) 07. Tesseracts, Enkei feat. Whiskey Pete - Newer Pass Me (DJ Detach & Affalina Edit) 08. Orebeat & Citybox - Lets Drop (Original Mix) 09. Sergei Orange, Kelle - Run (Dj Detach & BreakID Remix) 10. The Placenta & IMKFM - Kinesthetic Groove (Dj Detach Remix) 11. Dj Detach - Timeline (Original Mix) 12. Ivy Lab - Backshifting (Original Mix) 13. Ondamike feat. Sporty-O - Boom (Original Mix) 14. Ondamike - I Don't Give AF (Original Mix) 15. Tempotem & Zubovo - Top Banda (Affalina & Dj Detach Remix) 16. Guau & Destroyers - Lambo (Original Mix) 17. MIAU, Maybe One - Bomba (Origina Mix) 18. Code Breakerz & Majestic Noise - In Your Face (Original Mix) 19. Tokyo Machine - Bleep Bloop (Original Mix) 20. Shndō - HARIKĒN (Extended Mix) 21. Bios Destruction - Hell Fruits (Original Mix) 22. Sunsha - Hyper (Original Mix) 23. MIAU, Mary Goodman, Adro Garge vs Мистер Малой & b0n - Буду Погибать Молодым (Dj Detach Mash Up) 24. Mind Artifice - Ethereal (Original Mix) 25. Omar Santana & Dre Hectic- Slutronica (Original Mix) 26. Bios Destruction - The End (Original Mix) 27. Bios Destruction - Prey (Original Mix)

Sesión de música #breakbeat improvisa de varios subestilos. Tracklist: TRACK 01 TITLE "Beatbox" PERFORMER " feat. Rael - Let The Music P" TRACK 02 TITLE "Pop Ya Cork" PERFORMER "Stanton Warriors" TRACK 03 TITLE "He Didn't Do It On Purpose" PERFORMER "Digital Base" TRACK 04 TITLE "Neem ( Shooting Star ) ( Original Electro Mix ) (Shooting Star)" PERFORMER "Moseh Naïm" TRACK 05 TITLE "Free from desire (Mutantbreakz Mix)" INDEX 01 16:45:00 TRACK 06 TITLE "My way" PERFORMER "Prototyperz" TRACK 07 TITLE "Golddigga" PERFORMER "Deekline & Wizard Vs Jack" TRACK 08 TITLE "Make Me" PERFORMER "Borai & Denham " TRACK 09 TITLE "The Shame (Is Written in Tour Faze)" PERFORMER "Kultür" TRACK 10 TITLE "Brain" PERFORMER "JJMillon" TRACK 11 TITLE "Hypa" PERFORMER "Jack Michael" TRACK 12 TITLE "Summer Solstice (Sunsha Remix)" PERFORMER "Under This" TRACK 13 TITLE "Blind" PERFORMER "Prototyperz" TRACK 14 TITLE "Boom Blast (Deekline & Wizard Remix)" PERFORMER "Freestylers feat. Million Dan" TRACK 15 TITLE "Darkside (Original) (Original Mix) ww (Original)" PERFORMER "Dmoney" TRACK 16 TITLE "Deekline & Wizard / Work" PERFORMER "Deekline And Wizard" TRACK 17 TITLE "Labrat (Aquasky Remix)" PERFORMER "Backdraft" TRACK 18 TITLE "Minimal" PERFORMER "LADY WAKS" TRACK 19 TITLE "Sabotage (Deekline & Wizard Remix)" PERFORMER "ils" TRACK 20 TITLE "Miami Bass (Original Mix)" PERFORMER "K4DJ" TRACK 21 TITLE "Culprate - Phantom (Neurobreaks)" PERFORMER "Endo" TRACK 22 TITLE "Sweet Feeling" PERFORMER "Amy Wiles & Leena Punks" TRACK 23 TITLE "Not Ordinary" PERFORMER "TESSERACTS" TRACK 24 TITLE "Hit The Road Jack" PERFORMER "Deekline" TRACK 25 TITLE "Beatbox" PERFORMER " feat. Rael - Let The Music Play"

Evening teatime August 10th, 7 Pm EST, with Miss Liz joining me and bringing you all a fun, exciting T-E-A through science fiction books, broadcasting and community activities is Scott Overton's live show will be on Miss Liz's YouTube channel below. Give it a quick subscription, and be notified when we're live. Bring your comments, questions and support.https://youtube.com/@misslizsteatimesLive streaming to multiple platforms and podcast stations and apps.With a long career as a radio morning show host, Scott's first novel, the mystery/thriller Dead Air is set in the radio world (and was shortlisted for a Northern Lit Award in Ontario, Canada). Though trained as an actor in university, Scott left stage and screen behind to become a broadcaster and finally pursued his lifelong desire to be a science fiction writer. Since then, he's taken readers to strange places, including the human bloodstream in his SF novel debut, The Primus Labyrinth, a science fiction thriller that reviewers compare to the works of Michael Crichton. His novel Naïda chronicles a reluctant hero with an alien being living inside him. The Dispossession of Dylan Knox describes the trials of three people thrown out of their own time and sharing a single body. And his newest SF thriller, Augment Nation, explores the bright promise and disturbing perils of computerized brain augmentation. Scott believes science fiction should explore compelling themes, essential issues, and memorable characters. His short novel has been published in numerous American magazines and anthologies, including On Spec magazine's 25th Anniversary anthology Casserole Diplomacy, and Tesseracts 16: Parnassus Unbound.A committed community leader, Scott served many terms (often as chairman) on local boards of the United Way, Canadian Red Cross, CNIB, Easter Seals, and more, as well as being a founder of the local literary festival and a long-time board member of the Canadian Authors Association. He's hosted local telethons and other televised events many times. He still hosts webinars for the CAA and SF Canad and provides freelance voice services (especially audiobook narration) from his home studio.His favourite distractions from writing include scuba diving and collector cars. He lives with his wife on a private island in Northern Ontario.http://www.scottoverton.ca/

Guest Mix by Dj Detach 01. DJ Detach & Affalina - RexPexFex (Original Mix) 02. Аигел - Тен (iBenji Remix) 03. Pinguino - Fishing Gifts (Ondamike Remix) 04. Dial uP, DJ DIlect vs Ondamike - We Don't Stop The One (DJ Detach & Affalina Mash Up) 05. Boulevard Depo - Ауой (DJ Duke Remix) 06. Jiro - Deep Hole (Original Mix) 07. Perfect Kombo - Brooklyn (Original Mix) 08. Ondamike - Wait 4 Tha Weekend (Original Mix) 09. Ondamike - The Electro Computer (Original Mix) 10. JDouble - Shake Em Down (Original Mix) 11. The Dorrow Chem Syndicate - Alcatraz (Hankook & Perfect Kombo Remix) 12. Ondamike x Deekembeat - WOW (Original Mix) 13. Ondamike x Deekembeat - Slough (Original Mix) 14. System Buzz - Cmon (Ondamike Remix) 15. Bassline Junkie - Hazard Sound (Original Mix) 16. Tempotem, Baadwrk - Skank (Rmx) 17. Tesseracts, Enkei feat. Whiskey Pete - Never Pass Me (Original Mix) 18. The Beatrangers - Nigga Who (Timonk & Pumbas Edit) 19. Wuki feat. Diplo x Snappy Jit - Chicken Wang (Original Mix) 20. Ondamike - Music In Seville (Original Mix) 21. Ondamike - Sevilla (Original Mix) 22. Rasco & Perfect Kombo - Aghata (Breaks Remix 2022) 23. КУОК - Wakarimasen (Original Mix) 24. Ondamike - Bad Ass Beat (Original Mix) 25. Ondamike - Break Free (Original Mix) 26. DJ DIlect - Monsters (DJ Detach Remix) 27. System Buzz - Boo Yah! (Ondamike Remix) 28. Tesseracts - Never Say Never (Original Mix) 29. Tesseracts - Nopt Ordinary (Dj Detach Edit) 30. Tesseracts - Sayonara (Original Mix) 31. Dj Detach x Better Kicks - Bitum (Original Mix) 32. Huda Hudia & DJ30A - La Independencia (Original Mix) 33. BreaksMafia - No More Wait (Original Mix) 34. Firestar Soundsystem - Ganja Sensation (DJ Detach & Affalina Remix)

Guest Mix by Dj Detach 01. DJ Detach & Affalina - RexPexFex (Original Mix) 02. Аигел - Тен (iBenji Remix) 03. Pinguino - Fishing Gifts (Ondamike Remix) 04. Dial uP, DJ DIlect vs Ondamike - We Don't Stop The One (DJ Detach & Affalina Mash Up) 05. Boulevard Depo - Ауой (DJ Duke Remix) 06. Jiro - Deep Hole (Original Mix) 07. Perfect Kombo - Brooklyn (Original Mix) 08. Ondamike - Wait 4 Tha Weekend (Original Mix) 09. Ondamike - The Electro Computer (Original Mix) 10. JDouble - Shake Em Down (Original Mix) 11. The Dorrow Chem Syndicate - Alcatraz (Hankook & Perfect Kombo Remix) 12. Ondamike x Deekembeat - WOW (Original Mix) 13. Ondamike x Deekembeat - Slough (Original Mix) 14. System Buzz - Cmon (Ondamike Remix) 15. Bassline Junkie - Hazard Sound (Original Mix) 16. Tempotem, Baadwrk - Skank (Rmx) 17. Tesseracts, Enkei feat. Whiskey Pete - Never Pass Me (Original Mix) 18. The Beatrangers - Nigga Who (Timonk & Pumbas Edit) 19. Wuki feat. Diplo x Snappy Jit - Chicken Wang (Original Mix) 20. Ondamike - Music In Seville (Original Mix) 21. Ondamike - Sevilla (Original Mix) 22. Rasco & Perfect Kombo - Aghata (Breaks Remix 2022) 23. КУОК - Wakarimasen (Original Mix) 24. Ondamike - Bad Ass Beat (Original Mix) 25. Ondamike - Break Free (Original Mix) 26. DJ DIlect - Monsters (DJ Detach Remix) 27. System Buzz - Boo Yah! (Ondamike Remix) 28. Tesseracts - Never Say Never (Original Mix) 29. Tesseracts - Nopt Ordinary (Dj Detach Edit) 30. Tesseracts - Sayonara (Original Mix) 31. Dj Detach x Better Kicks - Bitum (Original Mix) 32. Huda Hudia & DJ30A - La Independencia (Original Mix) 33. BreaksMafia - No More Wait (Original Mix) 34. Firestar Soundsystem - Ganja Sensation (DJ Detach & Affalina Remix)

TESSERACTS

0:00:00 Introduction Richard Saunders 0:03:16 New Zealand Skeptics' $100,000 Challenge We talk to Craig Shearer, the chair of the New Zealand Skeptics, about the organisation's $100,000 challenge. Can psychics and their ilk in New Zealand live up to their claims? If so, they can collect the large cash reward. http://skeptics.nz 0:19:54 Australian Skeptics Newsletter What skeptical news has caught the eye of Tim Mendham this week? Read by Adrienne Hill in tne Skeptic Zone studio. http://www.skeptics.com.au 0:28:02 A Dive into a Trove A wander through the decades of digitised Australian newspapers on a search for references to "Fisher's Ghost". 1925.02.20 - The Herald - Melbourne Vic 1925.09.24 - The Evening News - Rockhampton Qld 1927.03.09 - The Kiama Reporter and Illawarra Journal 1948.09.27 - Tweed Daily 1897.01.30 - Australian Town and Country Journal http://www.trove.nla.gov.au Also   10 Years Ago The Skeptic Zone #233 - 6.April.2013 A chat with Marit Simonsen and Kristin Carlsson in Oslo. Walking in the snow or visiting skeptics in the pub, Oslo has something for everyone! - An update with Ian Bryce on the operation to restore sight to a blind dog... thank you science! - A Week in Science with Dr Paul Willis - Maynard's Spooky Action. He's back in Sydney Skeptics in the Pub to ask the BIG question. Should you tell kids about the Easter Bunny? - "Tesseracts" by Neal A. Yeager https://skepticzone.libsyn.com/the-skeptic-zone-233-6-april-2013

"Sheri, At This Very Moment" — published in Apex Magazine, issue 129, January 2022. Read it here: http://www.apex-magazine.com/ Bianca Sayan (she/they) works in civic technology and resides in Toronto with her spouse and daughter. You can find her previous work in Analog, Augur Magazine, and Tesseracts. JV Hampton-VanSant (they/she) is a voice actor, tarot reader and writer living in Western Massachusetts. She can be heard most frequently on Creepy Podcast. They can be found on most social media platforms under the screen name RedBlaqueGolden. This Apex Magazine podcast was produced by Alyson Grauer. Theme music by Alex White. Other music in this podcast includes “Those Lost” by Moments. Music and sounds were licensed through Soundstripe.com. Apex Magazine podcast, copyright Apex Publications. Apex Magazine is a bimonthly short fiction zine focused on dark science fiction, fantasy, and horror. Find us at http://www.apex-magazine.com.

Madeline Ashby is a science fiction writer, futurist, speaker, teacher, and immigrant living in Toronto. She is represented by Cooke McDermid, and UTA. Her fiction has appeared in Nature, Tesseracts, Escape Pod, FLURB, the Shine Anthology, and elsewhere. Her essays have appeared at BoingBoing, io9, WorldChanging, and The Atlantic. Her fiction has appeared in Slate, MIT Technology Review, Clarkesworld, and multiple anthologies. Madeline has worked with Intel Labs, the World Health Organization, the Institute for the Future, SciFutures, Nesta, Data & Society, The Atlantic Council, Changeist, and others. She has spoken at SXSW, FutureEverything, MozFest, and other events. I'm currently reading her and Scott Smith's book ‘How to Future' and they help people understand how to think and what to do. You can read more about Madeline at - https://madelineashby.com/ See more of Nikolas' writing at www.nikolasbadminton.com

On this episode of Born of Wonder, Katie has a far reaching discussion on everything from Ecclesiastes to Tesseracts and Black Holes, the possibility of Time Travel to what it means to be "timeless" while living in Time and Monks living in "Byzantine Time"... Also the Liturgy, Doctor Who, Interstellar, time management with a baby and more!    www.bornofwonder.com   Music: Blue Dot Sessions   The Byrds "Turn Turn Turn" Hans Zimmer - Interstellar "The Charleston"    Mt Athos "60 minutes" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_CxkSp_jmd4&list=PLOFZoffZBuUareYRUTYX_BJ25jJ4cR0nW    Recommendations -   "Breakfast at Tiffany's" Audrey Hepburn singing Moon River: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uirBWk-qd9A&t=2s    BBC Earth Podcast  https://www.bbcearth.com/podcast 

TEMAS: Gary Gensler, la SEC y su interacción sobre DeFi Regulación en USA sobre stablecoins Uniswap, la autonomía y el código a prueba de censura Concepto de Lex Cryptographica, alegalidad vs la ilegalidad Interpretación de la Ley Mercantil (Contract Law) y curso Harvard Law Innovación vs Regulación, ejemplos sobre NASA y el Space Race 2.0 Componentes centralizados en la etapa “embriónica” de una red Blockchain El inicio del Renacimiento Digital Entrega de NFTs Reseña del libro “Crypto” y “Kings of Crypto” Arquitectura del Web 2.0 y el Cloud Computing, AWS Descentralización del almacenamiento (FileCoin) Juan Benet y el Web 3.0, Protocol Labs, IPFS Efectos cuántics (entanglement) Tesseracts y geometría no-euclidiana Máquina de Ultra-Violeta Extremo Escala Kardashev y la Civilización Tipo I, II y III “Genesis” de Guido Tonelli sobre la historia del inicio del Universo El Universo observable y las regiones inaccesibles del Universo

Starwhale drifts into sleep and dreams of a 2D civilization. He tries to make contact but the conversation gets lost between the dimensions. A little sad, he turns and leaves, only to encounter something from another dimension beyond his own--learning empathy for the second dimension and a bit about the 4th and other dimensions in the process.  Themes: Multiple Dimension Theory, Tesseracts, Our Limited (3rd Dimension) Point of View Inspired by this iconic moment from Carl Sagan's Cosmos: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UnURElCzGc0 Listen & Subscribe Apple Podcasts Google Podcasts Spotify iHeart Radio Stitcher Anywhere  

Creating the shape of your life on a daily basis, how THE PROMISED QUEEN was my pandemic year book, tips on writing Dedications and Acknowledgments and the upcoming @farofeb event!You can find the FaRoFeb Facebook group here (https://www.facebook.com/groups/429207234870645).First Cup of Coffee is part of the Frolic Podcast Network. You can find more outstanding podcasts to subscribe to at Frolic.media/podcasts!Support the show (http://paypal.me/jeffekennedy)

Well Enough Alone by Holly Schofield. Narrated by J.S. Arquin. Featuring an afterword recorded by Holly Schofield. #sci-fi #fiction #endoflife #deathwithdignity Lindsay gripped the armrest as the car sped through the busy streets, centimeters from the other vehicles. The wrap-around front windshield increased visibility but made for a disconcerting ride. She double-checked her smartcane was resting against her leg and closed her eyes, wishing she knew where she was going and why. Holly Schofield travels through time at a rate of one second per second, oscillating between the alternate realities of city and country life. She is the author of over seventy short stories, some of which are used in university curricula. Her works have appeared in Analog, Lightspeed, Tesseracts and many other publications throughout the world. You can find her at hollyschofield.wordpress.com Please support The Overcast. Become A Patron Today! Subscribe on iTunes or Stitcher so you never miss an episode. While you're there, please take a moment to leave a review!  

The gang is back with Captain Marvel! Listen in as Phillip, John, Christy, and Josh discuss the finer points of Flerkens on Tesseracts, Captain Marvel’s [...]

My Go FundMe: https://www.gofundme.com/new-polytunnel Flash Fiction: "Frog Soup" by Floris M. KleijneThis story originally appeared at Daily Science Fiction (August 2, 2016). Floris M. Kleijne is the author of over two dozen short stories in Daily Science Fiction, Galaxy's Edge, Factor Four, and numerous other publications, He lives in a 200 year old house in the Dutch river district, but does most of his writing on trains. Floris was the first Dutchman to win the prestigious Writers of the Future contest, as well as the first Dutchman to qualify for active membership of the SFWA. He blogs about writing , Real Life™, and atrocious customer service on www.floriskleijne.com, where you can also read more of his stories. Narrated by: Anthony BabingtonAnthony Babington is an aspiring voice actor, who looks just slightly off from how he sounds. From his secret volcano lair in Minnesota he narrates podcasts, and leases his soul to corporate America. He has previously recorded for Far Fetched Fables and The Cursed Inn. He can be found on Twitter as @AlephBaker. Main Fiction: "Generation Gap" by Holly SchofieldThis story first appeared in the anthology Lazarus Risen (2016).Holly Schofield travels through time at the rate of one second per second, oscillating between the alternate realities of city and country life. Her stories have appeared in such publications as Analog, Lightspeed, and Tesseracts, are used in university curricula, and have been translated into several languages. She hopes to save the world through science fiction and homegrown heritage tomatoes. Find her at hollyschofield.wordpress.com. Narrated by: Geoffrey WelchmanGeoffrey works in digital media. A former podcaster, he also narrated several stories for Far Fetched Fables. He lives in Baltimore with his wife Betty. You can find him online at geoffreywelchman.com. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

What do Tesseracts, Philip K. Dick, Photosynthesis,the Titanic, Freudian dreams, Norman Mailer, UFO, Quantum entanglement, Sexy science research, Minkowski's block universe, Synchronicity re-defined, Remote viewing re-viewed, Occult Prague, Anthropology, Unemployed Jungian Archetypes, Jacques Vallee and Flying Koans all connect to? Dr. Eric Wargo, author of Time Loops: Precognition, Retrocausation and the Unconscious answers the question in this scintillating discussion of where we have come back from and where we went to get here.

We talk the meaning of life & the universe, the purpose of man, AI, Easter Island, Tesseracts, ancient advanced societies, we watched a Rick & Morty clip, talked to Uncle PP the inventor of Pied Piper Coin and Brekkie von Bitcoin the amazing and talented creator of Blockchain and Morty. what an epic episode! Guests: https://twitter.com/piedpipercoin https://twitter.com/CryptoBrekkie Support Us: https://www.patreon.com/EuclidAndOaks Our Website: https://EuclidAndOaks.com/ Art & Music provided by https://twitter.com/money_alotta https://twitter.com/CrypToroMx https://twitter.com/SpotlitePros Song: Black and white by Spotlite Productions https://soundcloud.com/spotliteonu/black-and-white Hosts: https://twitter.com/CryptoEuclid https://twitter.com/mysticaloaks Show Twitter Account: https://twitter.com/EuclidAndOaks #EuclidAndOaks is a comedy based thought-provoking show that focuses on bringing balance, spirituality and love to the cryptocurrency space. We talk about everything, not just bitcoin and cryptocurrency. We cover all topics on our podcast- life, philosophy, art, music, nature, relationships and spirituality. To catch the show live and to interact with us during the show follow us on twitter and on Periscope! https://www.pscp.tv/EuclidAndOaks For some hella good coffee try HODLFUEL! https://hodl-strong-products.myshopify.com/?rfsn=2003825.52f5b Try the new Beaxy Exchange Binance Killer! https://www.beaxy.com/Registration?code=Z381YINO0I Make your own videos! Buy the gear that I use to shoot my stuff! https://kit.com/CryptoEuclid/cryptoeuclid-euci-vision --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/euclidandoaks/message

This episode features "Mayfly" written by Peter Watts and Derryl Murphy. Originally published in Tesseracts 9 edited by Nalo Hopkinson and Geoff Ryman. Reprinted in the September 2018 issue of Clarkesworld Magazine and read by Kate Baker. The text version of this story can be found at: http://clarkesworldmagazine.com/watts-murphy_09_18_reprint Support us on Patreon at http://patreon.com/clarkesworld

This episode features "Mayfly" written by Peter Watts and Derryl Murphy. Originally published in Tesseracts 9 edited by Nalo Hopkinson and Geoff Ryman. Reprinted in the September 2018 issue of Clarkesworld Magazine and read by Kate Baker. The text version of this story can be found at: http://clarkesworldmagazine.com/watts-murphy_09_18_reprint Support us on Patreon at http://patreon.com/clarkesworld

In today's episode of Signal Boost, Jen talks to to Rhonda Parrish and Greg Bechtel, the co-editors of Edge Publishing's anthology Tesseracts 21: Nevertheless. They discuss how each got involved with this collection of optimistic speculative fiction stories, how the theme was impacted by the 2016 US election, how persistence, specifically, became a dominant message, […]

Njàbò by Claude Lalumière   Njàbò, my only child, my daughter, walks with me. She is as old as the forest, while I was born but three and a half decades ago. Our ears prick up at the sound of drums. We scan the sky and spot a column of smoke to the northwest. We run toward it. The ground trembles under our feet. The settlement is ringed by rotting carcasses. Their faces are mutilated, but the meat is left uneaten. These are the bodies of our people. I weep, but Njàbò is past tears. She sheds her calf body. Njàbò the great, the wise, the ancient thunders with anger; her flapping ears rouse the wind.   [Full transcript after the cut.]   Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip episode 56. This is your host Keffy, and I'm super excited to be sharing this story with you. Our story today is Njàbò by Claude Lalumière, read by Leigh Wallace. Claude Lalumière (claudepages.info) is the author of Objects of Worship (2009), The Door to Lost Pages (2011), Nocturnes and Other Nocturnes (2013), and Venera Dreams: A Weird Entertainment (2017). He has published more than 100 stories, several of which have been adapted for stage, screen, audio, and comics. His books and stories have been translated into seven languages. Originally from Montreal, he now lives in Ottawa. Leigh Wallace is a Canadian writer, artist and public servant. You can find her latest story in Tesseracts 19: Superhero Universe and her art at leighfive.deviantart.com   Njàbò by Claude Lalumière   Njàbò, my only child, my daughter, walks with me. She is as old as the forest, while I was born but three and a half decades ago. Our ears prick up at the sound of drums. We scan the sky and spot a column of smoke to the northwest. We run toward it. The ground trembles under our feet. The settlement is ringed by rotting carcasses. Their faces are mutilated, but the meat is left uneaten. These are the bodies of our people. I weep, but Njàbò is past tears. She sheds her calf body. Njàbò the great, the wise, the ancient thunders with anger; her flapping ears rouse the wind. Njàbò charges the human settlement, trumpeting her fury. Everywhere there is ivory, carved into jewellery and other trinkets, evidence of the mutilation of our people. She squeezes the life out of the humans and pounds them on the ground. The humans and their houses are crushed beneath the powerful feet of the giant Njàbò. She kicks down the fireplaces and tramples the ashes. She screams her triumph. Njàbò’s shouts go on for hours. Our scattered tribe gathers from around the world to the site of Njàbò’s victory. Throughout all of this I have been weeping, from pride and awe at Njàbò’s beauty, from horror at the deaths of both elephants and humans, from relief, from grief, from sadness and loneliness at my child’s independence. And, like too many nights of the past eight years, I wake, quietly weeping, from this dream that is always the same.   Waters is sitting on Cleo’s chest, nuzzling her nose, purring. Cleo’s cheeks are crusty from dried tears. She guesses that she’s been awake for two hours or so. She’s been lying on her back—motionless, eyes wide open—trying to forget the dream and the emotions it brings. The skylight above the bed reveals that dawn is breaking. She should get up, get started. She stretches. It sends Waters leaping from her chest and out through the beaded curtain in the doorway. Cleo slides out of bed, two king-size futons laid side-by-side on the floor. She looks at her lovers in the diffused early-morning light: a domestic ritual that marks the beginning of her day. Tall, graceful, long-legged Tamara, with her baby-pink skin, rosebud breasts, and long hair dyed in strands of different colours, has kicked off the sheet, lying on her back. The hard curve of West’s shoulder peeks out from under the sheet he holds firmly under his armpit. Assaad is sleeping on his stomach, his face buried in his pillow, his arm now stretched out over Cleo’s pillow, his perfectly manicured feet sticking out from the bed, as always. And Patrice—gorgeous, broad-shouldered Patrice—isn’t back from work yet.   Patrice comes home from the night shift at The Small Easy to find Cleo yawning over the kitchen table, the night’s tears not yet washed away. He crouches and hugs her from behind. “You look so tired, baby.” Cleo hears the smile in his quiet voice, the smile she’s always found so irresistible. She turns and rubs her face against his chest. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” Patrice kisses her on the forehead. “Then go back to bed. Let me make breakfast.” Again, that smile. She feels herself melting, almost going to sleep in his arms. “But,” she says, yawning, “you’ve been cooking all night at the café. You should rest.” He laughs and pats her butt. “I’ll be alright, Cleo. Allow me the pleasure of taking care of you, okay?” She thinks, Can you make my dream go away? But she says nothing. She squeezes his hand, forces a smile, and leaves the kitchen.   For a few seconds, Cleo is confused, does not know where she is. Has she been sleeping? And then she remembers. This is the girls’ bedroom, the girls’ bed. The curtains are drawn, the door is ajar. What time is it? She’d quietly snuck into the girls’ room after Patrice had come home, careful not to wake them. She’d crawled in between them and was calmed by their sweet, eight-year-old smells. She had only meant to lie down until Patrice called breakfast. Where were the girls now? Shouldn’t Cleo be smelling tea, pancakes, eggs, toast? Hearing the chaotic banter of the breakfast table? The kitchen is deserted and wiped clean. Indefatigable Patrice, again. No-one leaves a kitchen as spotless as he does. She looks at the clock: it’s nearly half past noon. She can’t remember the last time she slept in. Last night, the dream was more vivid than usual; it drained her. Her mouth feels dry. She gets orange juice from the fridge and gulps it down. She wanders from room to room. She stops in the bathroom to splash her face. The quiet is strange. She usually spends the morning and early afternoon tutoring the girls. West must be at the university, Assaad at The Smoke Shop. Patrice, she notices, is sleeping. Waters is curled up on the pillow next to his head. Where are the girls? And then she remembers: Tamara is back. She must have taken them out somewhere. Just two days ago, Tamara returned from a six-month trip to Antarctica. She brought back photographs she’d taken of strange vegetation, species that paleobiologists claim have not grown for millions of years. Cleo ends her tour of the house with Tamara’s office and is startled to see her sitting at her computer, fiddling with the photos from her trip. “Tam?” “Clee, love, come.” Tamara, naked as she almost always is around the house, waves her over. Cleo is enchanted by her beauty, more so all the time. Cleo missed her while she was away. Cleo settles in Tamara’s lap. Tamara is so tall that Cleo’s head only reaches up to her neck. Tamara’s poised nudity makes Cleo feel frumpy and unattractive, especially now that she notices the rumpled state of her own clothes, slept-in all morning. The feeling evaporates as Tamara squeezes her, digging her nose into Cleo’s neck, breathing her in. “I haven’t been back long enough to stop missing you, Clee. There were no other women on the expedition.” Tamara pulls off Cleo’s T-shirt, cups her sagging breasts. As always, Cleo is fascinated by the chiaroscuro of the soft pink of Tamara’s skin against her own dark brown. “They were like little boys, nervous at having their clubhouse invaded by a female, at having their secret handshakes revealed, protective of their toys.” “Tam ... Where are the girls?” How could Cleo have thought that Tamara had taken the girls out? Of all of them, Tamara was the least interested in the girls. She let them crawl all over her when they felt like it and was unfalteringly affectionate with them, but she never set aside time for them. She was vaguely uneasy with the idea of children. “West took them to school. At breakfast, he talked about his lecture, to warm up. His class today is about the symbolic use of animals in politics. One of his case studies is about African elephants. You should have seen Njàbò! She got very excited and asked him tons of questions. She wanted to go hear West at school, and he thought it would be a treat for both of them. Especially seeing as how you seemed to need the sleep.” “I can’t believe Sonya would be interested in that.” Tamara runs her fingers through Cleo’s hair and says, “Doesn’t Sonya always do what Njàbò wants? Sometimes I think all of us are always doing what Njàbò wants. She’ll grow into a leader, that one. She’ll trample anyone in her path.” Cleo is momentarily reminded of her dream, but she makes an effort to push it away. She jokes, “Wanna play hooky and go out for lunch? At The Small Easy?”   Eight years ago, Cleo gave birth to Njàbò. Most people thought that the girl looked like Patrice, especially because of her dark skin—like Patrice’s, darker than Cleo’s—but she could just as easily have been fathered by West or Assaad. The five of them had agreed not to do any tests to find out. Assaad was Sonya’s biological father and her legal guardian. She’d been the daughter of their friends Karin and Pauline. Both women had died in a car accident the day after Njàbò was born. Sonya was three months older than Njàbò. A few days later, a grey-brown cat jumped through the kitchen window while Patrice prepared breakfast. The cat drank water from a dirty bowl in the sink, and then refused to leave. The family adopted him and called him Waters.   At The Small Easy, while waiting for their order, Tamara goes to the washroom. A few seconds after she gets up, a man wearing a denim jacket materializes in her seat. One moment the seat is empty; the next, the man is there. Cleo is seized with a paralyzing fear. The man is short, almost like a child, but his face is that of an old man. His wrinkled skin is a washed-out greyish brown. He grabs both her hands in his. She feels his fingers, like vises, almost crushing the bones of her hands. “Do not fear your dreams. Do not fear Njàbò. You, too, are one of us, daughter. Believe in Njàbò. Follow her.” He vanishes as inexplicably as he appeared. Still numb with fear, all Cleo can focus on is how the old man hadn’t spoken in English, but in what she assumes must have been an African language. How had she understood him? Tamara returns. Cleo says nothing about the old man.   When Cleo and Tamara come back from lunch, the girls are still out with West. There’s a message on the voicemail. He’s taking them out downtown; there’s a new Brazilian restaurant he’s curious about, and then they’ll go the Museum of Civilizations. He says he’ll pose in front of the paintings and sculptures and have the girls try to figure out his ancestry. His favourite joke. When asked about his roots, West never gives the same answer. A mix of Cree and Russian? Hawaiian and Korean? Tibetan and Lebanese? He looks vaguely Asian, but his features don’t conform to any specific group. He loves to confuse people, to meddle with their expectations. His odd wit has always charmed Cleo. Thinking of his easy silliness helps take the edge off her strange encounter at The Small Easy. Cleo takes this opportunity to give herself the day off from mothering and housekeeping. She goes down to her sanctum. In the basement of their house, she’s set up a studio. There’s a small window high up on the wall, but she keeps it covered, lets no natural light in. She burns scented candles and incense. She’s comfortable painting only in the dim, flickering light, breathing in a rich blend of odours. Full, harsh light makes her feel exposed. The dim candlelight, the smoke, and the smells all contribute to a sense of being enveloped, of being in a cocoon, a womb, in a world where only she and her imagination exist. Sometimes, like today, she smokes a pipeful of hash, not only to relax but also to enrich the room’s aroma. Today, she needs to relax. Had she hallucinated that man in the restaurant? She still remembers the feel of his rough hands against her smooth skin. His smell: like damp soil. How could he know about her secret dream? She holds the smoke in her lungs as long as she can before blowing it out. She wants the hash to wash out her fears and anxieties. She wants to paint. The hash is strong. She feels its effects within a few seconds, a soothing combination of numbness, purpose, and timelessness. She loses herself in the canvas. She emerges from her drugged creative trance. Hours later? Minutes? It is darker: only a handful of candles still burn. She goes to the sink and splashes her face with water. She forms a cup with her hands and drinks from it. She lights a few fresh candles and returns to the canvas. She finds that she has painted a scene from her dream, one of the most violent moments. She had never before let herself depict such brutality. The giant elephant, who, in her dreams, is somehow her daughter Njàbò, is trampling humans beneath her enormous feet. She is throwing a mangled man in the air with her trunk. Cleo notices that she has painted words in the background, including “NJÀBÒ”—but also other strange words that she has never heard of before, such as “MÒKÌLÀ” and “MOKIDWA.” “Why are you afraid of the dream?” Cleo is startled by this intrusion. Njàbò? Cleo turns, but her daughter doesn’t wait to hear the answer. Cleo hears her rush up the stairs and shut the door. Does she know that Cleo has no answer? Cleo isn’t surprised that Njàbò knows about her recurring dream. She’s scared, and what scares her most, somehow, is that lack of surprise.   It was Patrice who had known what “Njàbò” meant, but Cleo who named the baby. How had it come to her? After the midwife had left, the whole family had slipped into bed with Cleo and the new baby. Cleo had immediately fallen asleep, exhausted from the long labour. She had slept deeply, had not remembered any dreams, but had woken knowing the baby’s name. “I think I want to call her Njàbò”—it was an odd-sounding word that meant nothing to her—“but I don’t know why.” Patrice, who had been devastated by the elephant tragedy and had read many books to assuage his grief, recognized it. The last elephant, a female African forest elephant on a reserve in the Congo, had died nearly a year before Njàbò’s birth. Poaching, loss of habitat due to increasing human encroachment, spiteful slaughters in backlash against conservationists, and disease had finally taken their toll. All efforts at cloning had failed and were still failing. “I know!” Patrice had said. “Njàbò ... Njàbò is a mythical creature from Africa: the mother of all elephants. A giant with enormous tusks who appears whenever the elephants need a strong leader. All elephants gather around her when she calls. It’s a beautiful name. A strong name for our strong girl. I like it.” Everyone had agreed. Cleo had pushed aside the question of how the name had come to her. It was one of those unsolvable riddles best left alone. Now, looking at the name on the canvas, she is more convinced than ever that she had never heard or seen the name before it mysteriously came to her eight years ago.   The dream now plagues Cleo nightly. She is always tired, never getting enough sleep, never fully rested. She avoids Njàbò. She has begged off mothering. Tamara, Patrice, West, and Assaad now share the task. Cleo, after all, has taken on the bulk of that work for the past eight years, devoted her time and life to raising Njàbò and Sonya, to taking care of the house while the four of them pursued their careers. There had been that book with Tamara, five years ago, when the girls were three years old. The paintings, the shows, the tours. Of course, they say to Cleo, she should explore that aspect of her life again, let someone else take care of the house, the girls. Tonight, the house is quiet. The whole family has gone for a walk in the park. It rained all day, and finally the cloud cover broke to give way to a warm evening. Cleo had agreed to go, but decided against it at the last minute. Assaad, especially, insisted that she come along, to spend time with the family. But in the end she’d stayed alone in the house. Well, not quite alone. Waters follows her as she walks into the living room. She takes down a big art book from a shelf built into the wall. Cleo sits on the floor; Waters sits in front of her, purring and rubbing his head on her knee. She opens the book at random and remembers.   The book, The Absence of Elephants, was a worldwide success. Trying to exorcise her dream, which she never talked about, Cleo had created a series of elephant paintings. Some were scenes from her dreams, but not all. She had used no photographic references. The results ranged from photorealism to evocative abstractions. She painted in the evenings when the girls were in bed, asleep. The whole family was extremely excited about her paintings. Patrice and Njàbò, especially, spent hours looking at them, but it was Tamara who had been inspired by them. Tamara had sold her publisher on the idea: an art book combining Cleo’s paintings with photos of forests and plains where elephants used to thrive, of human constructions that now stood in areas that were once habitats for elephants. There would be no words: the pictures, especially in the wake of the global desolation over the extinction of the elephants, would speak in all languages, allowing the book to be marketed worldwide without the cost of translation. Tamara would go to Africa, India, and anywhere else where any elephants—even woolly mammoths—had once lived, hunting with her camera the ghosts of the dead creatures. The Absence of Elephants led to gallery bookings. Cleo’s paintings, along with Tamara’s photographs, were hung in cities all over the world, from Buenos Aires and Montreal to Glasgow and Sydney ... but not in India, where the book was too hot politically. The two women had gone on tour with their work—wine, food, and five-star hotels all expensed. It had been a glamorous, exciting experience for Cleo—and it had forged a complicit bond between the two women. Before then, Cleo had often been intimidated by the beautiful Tamara’s fashionable elegance. The book, the sales of paintings and signed, numbered prints of Tamara’s photos, the DVD-ROM, the web rights, and the CGI Imax film had made the family not quite wealthy, but certainly at ease. West took a sabbatical from the university and looked after the house and the children. After nearly a year of book tours, art galleries, and media appearances, Cleo missed Njàbò and Sonya, yearned to return to domestic life. She came back home, to the girls. For the next few years, she rarely painted. But the dream continued to haunt her.   Cleo now spends entire days in her studio, has even taken to locking herself in. Sometimes she stands silently behind the door, listening to the others talk about her. They assume that she has been overtaken by a new creative storm, is painting a new series, and needs time alone to focus her creative energies. In truth, Cleo’s days disappear in a cloud of hash. She hides from her fears: of Njàbò, of what she would paint if she were to take up the brush, of being in public, vulnerable to the appearance of the wrinkled old man.   The first thing Cleo thinks is: Patrice and Assaad look so uncomfortable sleeping on that small ugly couch. Patrice is lying on top of Assaad, resting his head on Assaad’s shoulder. Assaad’s arms are wrapped around Patrice, one hand on the small of his back, the other on his shoulder blade. “Patty? Assaad?” The two men snap awake. And then Cleo peers around the room, touching the mattress beneath her. She thinks: Is this a hospital bed? Cleo notices that Patrice looks worried, but she can’t read Assaad, whose face is even more inscrutable than usual. Getting up, the men stand on either side of Cleo, each wrapping one of her hands in their own. Cleo takes her hands back before they can say anything. “Enough. This is too much. Go sit down. What am I doing here?” They go back to the couch. Assaad squeezes Patrice’s hand, nodding at him to speak. “No, love, you tell her.” Patrice says. “You found her.” Assaad looks straight into Cleo’s eyes, willing her to keep her eyes locked on his. His voice is dry ice, fuming with wisps of cold mist. “None of us had seen you for more than a day. For weeks, you’ve been distant, aloof, oblivious to the girls, oblivious to all of us.” Cleo’s muscles tighten up, in a reflexive effort to protect herself. She’s never heard Assaad speak in such a cold, hard voice before. “We thought you were working on a new series. You let us believe that.” Assaad pauses, his eyes still locked on Cleo’s. Is he waiting for an explanation? Or a reaction? Cleo wants to look away, but can’t. “As I said, we hadn’t seen you for more than a day. You hadn’t come to bed the night before. You’d locked yourself in your studio. The girls and I were ready to have lunch. I knocked on your door, calling you, inviting you to eat with us. You didn’t answer. I knocked harder. Yelled out your name. Still, you didn’t answer. I had to take the door out. I found you unconscious. The air was foul. You’d pissed yourself. Vomited.” Again, a pause. Cleo feels the cold mist of Assaad’s anger go down her throat, into her stomach. Of all of them, he is the most patient, the most understanding, the one who resolves conflicts, soothes hurts and pains. How could she have let it come to this? “There was but one new painting. Later, Njàbò told us you’d painted that one weeks ago, the day West brought them to his class. I called the ambulance. I couldn’t rouse you.” Another pause. Patrice fills the tense silence. “The doctor told us you were suffering from dehydration and malnutrition. Why haven’t you been eating? What have you been doing? Are you angry with us? Speak to us, Clee, we all love you. Maybe we should have been more attentive. You were looking weak, tired. We should have paid attention. We were all too preoccupied, with work and with the girls. Why are you hiding from us? What are you hiding from us?” Patrice’s voice gets louder and increasingly reproachful. “Why did you let this happen?” Assaad looks away from Cleo, puts his hand on Patrice’s shoulder, calms him, and, in the process, calms himself. Patrice frowns, “I’m sorry, Clee, I—I’m just worried about you.” “Patty, I...” She avoids their faces. She feels ashamed. Why has she kept the dream a secret all these years? The dream is a chasm into which intimacy is falling ever further from her grasp. Can it reemerge from those depths after so many years of secrecy? “How ... How are the girls?” “They’re fine, Clee. Assaad quit his job at The Smoke Shop. He’s a great mother.” Patrice’s grin fills his whole face. He ruffles Assaad’s hair, kissing him on the cheek. Assaad fights a losing battle against the grin spreading on his face. “We didn’t really need the money. It’s a stimulating change to be at home with the girls. It’s a challenge to teach them, and to learn from them.” “Who’s taking ca—” Assaad answers, “They’re with West today. He took them to see the new Katgirl & Canary movie that they’ve both been so excited about.” “How long have I been here?” Patrice glances at Assaad, then gets up and sits next to her on the bed, stroking her face. “You’ve been out for four days. It’s Sunday.” Cleo closes her eyes. She wishes she knew why she’s been so apprehensive, why she’s been hiding a part of herself from her lovers. She remembers falling in love with Patrice when she was still waiting tables at The Small Easy. She remembers him introducing her to his family—Assaad, Tamara, West; her family, now. She takes a blind leap. “I’ve been having this dream...”   The Baka—the few hundred who remain—live in the forest, in a territory that covers part of Cameroon and the Congo. They believe—or believed, Cleo isn’t sure—that the Mòkìlà were a tribe of shapeshifters, both elephant and human. The Mòkìlà would raid Baka villages and initiate the captives into their secret society. Their sorcerers, the mokidwa, would transform their captives into shapeshifters. The captives became Mòkìlà and were never again seen by their families. The mokidwa could take on the form of any animal. They also knew the secret of invisibility. Njàbò is the ancestor of all elephants, sometimes male, sometimes female. Stories abound of avatars of Njàbò, giant cows or bulls, leading herds of elephants against Baka warriors or villages. Njàbò’s tusks are so enormous, they contain ten other tusks within them. Njàbò is often flanked by a retinue of guards. Cleo has been trying to demystify her experiences. She searched the web for those strange words on her painting and found them. She asked West to get books from the university library. She’s been reading about the Baka and the myth of Njàbò. She’s never cared before about her ancestry and now finds herself wondering if perhaps there are Baka or Mòkìlà among her ancestors. The Mòkìlà are a myth, she reminds herself. She’s been painting again. The new canvasses are violent, raw. When she painted her first series years ago, she hadn’t felt this uninhibited. Now, every session leaves her exhausted, yet exhilarated. Having shared her dream with her family, she has nothing to hide. She feels free. She still dreams every night, but the dream is changing. Now the whole family walks with Njàbò. And the dream is getting longer. There is more violence, more bloodshed. Njàbò leads the tribe around the world. They crush all human constructions. They kill all the humans. Theirs is an unstoppable stampede. Cleo has painted much of this. Now, the dream continues beyond the violence. The tribe walks the Earth in peace. The tribe grows and Njàbò reigns. Today, for the first time, Cleo’s painting is inspired by that part of the dream. The others tell her that they, too, have started dreaming of Njàbò, the elephant. She leaves her door open; sometimes the others come down and watch her work, quietly, discreetly. At first, she knew, they were keeping an eye on her, worried that she would withdraw once again. After a few weeks, that changed. Now they come down because they find it exciting to be in the room while Cleo paints. The candlelight, the thick odours, and her absolute devotion to the canvas all combine to create a mesmerizing ambience. Even Waters has been spending hours curled up under her stool. Every day, Njàbò comes, silently, to see her paint. Cleo is still nervous around her daughter, still avoids talking with her. Cleo senses that Njàbò is in the room now. The painting is finished. It depicts Njàbò, the elephant, towering over her herd, young elephants running around her, playing, celebrating. Around the elephants, the forest is lush. Njàbò, the eight-year-old girl, walks up to her mother, in silence. She gazes at the painting. Cleo sees the tears running down her daughter’s cheeks. Cleo gathers Njàbò in her lap. The girl buries her head in her mother’s breasts. They both cry. Cleo can’t remember crying with such abandon, feeling so cleansed by the act. She hugs her daughter, firmly, proudly.   I am awakened by a light kiss on the mouth. Njàbò has crawled into bed, is holding my hand. Sonya is behind her, quiet, submissive. Njàbò whispers, “I am the dream.” Njàbò rouses the entire family, kissing them one by one: Patrice, West, Assaad, and, finally, Tamara. She whispers lovingly to each of them, her lips brushing their ears. She leads the family outside. The street is deserted in the middle of the night. Njàbò turns to face us all together. We are all naked. Looking straight into my eyes, Waters rubs himself against Njàbò’s leg. Behind my daughter, a group of old men materializes. The mokidwa have shed their invisibility. Njàbò smiles. Soon, the ground will tremble.   END   Njàbò was originally published in On Spec Vol. 15, no. 3 and is copyright Claude Lalumière, 2003. This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library. You can support GlitterShip by checking out our Patreon at patreon.com/keffy, subscribing to our feed, or by leaving reviews on iTunes. Thanks for listening, and we’ll be back soon with a GlitterShip original.

Patreon support now standing at 411 – last week 408 Help us get to 500 Patreon Supporters. Main Fiction: "The Art of Failure" by Robert DawsonOriginally appeared in Compelling SF, March 2016.Robert Dawson teaches mathematics at a Nova Scotian university. He has been writing science fiction for about eight years, and is an alumnus of the Sage Hill and Viable Paradise writing workshops. When not teaching, doing research, or writing, he enjoys orienteering, fencing, and cycling, and volunteers with a Scout troop. His stories have appeared in Compelling SF, Nature Futures, Tesseracts, and many other periodicals and anthologiesNarrated by: Eric Luke Eric Luke is the screenwriter of the Joe Dante film Explorers, which is currently in development as a remake, the comic books Ghost and Wonder Woman, and wrote and directed the Not Quite Human films for Disney TV. His current project Interference, a meta horror audiobook about an audiobook… that kills, is available free on iTunes and at Quillhammer.com. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

On this episode of Connecting the Dots, Mark talks with Deacon Steven Greydanus about Stephen Hawking, Tesseracts, Wormholes, A Wrinkle in Time, and the Eucharist. Come with us on a mind-bending exploration of the Catholic faith! Support this Podcast and the Breadbox Media network with your Premium Membership and unlock your deals today! https://www.breadboxmedia.com/marksheasupport.html

Why is everyone talking about Madeline L'Engle's modern classic A Wrinkle in Time? If you loved the book, should you see the current Ava Duvernay film adaptation? Should you take your kids to see it? Why on earth did Meg not read this book until she was forty years old?In this episode in the Extra Awesome series, Meg and co-host Kelly talk all things A Wrinkle in Time, including how this novel aligns itself perfectly with the Year of the Awesome!Show notes:Madeline L'Engle, A Wrinkle in TimeAmerica Magazine: An Ignatian Guide to a Wrinkle in TimeVisit sortaawesomeshow.com for show notes on this and every episode.You can find Meg on Facebook, Twitter, or InstagramFind Kelly on her blog, Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram

"“Spirit Dance” by Douglas Smith (Originally published in Tesseracts 6, this work is the prequel story to Douglas's novel The Wolf at the End of the World.) In the beginning of things, men were as animals and animals as men. -- Cree legend Vera made a warding sign as I entered the store, my hound Gelert trailing behind me. She pretended to wipe her hands on her faded blue apron, but I caught the dance of her fingers. “Hello, Vera. It’s been a while,” I said. “Yes, yes it has, Mr. Blaidd,” she said too quickly, not returning my smile. Turning from where she’d been refilling a food bin, she addressed her husband. “I gotta check something in the back, Ed.” Almost running, she slipped behind the long wooden counter and into the storeroom at the rear of the store. Edward Two Rivers leaned on the counter beside the cash register, a newspaper spread in front of him, his long gray hair spilling onto the pages. He watched her leave then smiled at me. “Ouch,” I said. “You still spook her,” he... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Appeared in Anywhere But Earth (coeur de lion publishing) Originally from Canada, Wendy has made a home in Australia and her speculative fiction has appeared in Interzone and Tesseracts. She was an alumnus of the 2004 Clarion South workshop. Also…

Alien Ship Technology Ship materials construction. Anti-gravity technologies. Tesseracts. Shadows looking into other dimensions. Alien Math and Physics Jef Raskin's alien math Superdimensionality. Imagining alien understanding of maths and physics. Different perspectives forcing different approaches. The physics of alien arrivals. Linguistic Relativity The strong version of the  Sapir-Whorf hypothesis is not backed by good evidence. Superdimensional alien languages. Gaining new perspective into the reality of the universe. Preparation Military secret-keeping. General Whitaker’s Morpheus operandi: “I cannot tell you what the matrix is. I have to show you.” Everything by Ted Chiang: Amazon Ted Chiang on Decipher SciFi: Decipher SciFi Darmok: iTunesAmazon Support the show!

Gravity and Black Holes More Kip Thorne. Wormholes. Detecting gravitational anomalies. Time Dilation Einstein. Train rides. Relativity. Frames of reference. Frame dragging. Time as an expendable resource. Crazy Planetary Adventures Water planet is the stuff of Christopher’s nightmares.  Frozen clouds! So Many Dimensions Abstraction of extra dimensions into fewer. Tesseracts. Carl Sagan’s genius powers of explanation. Time Travel Paradoxes Predestination paradox? Self-consistent single timelines. Love Multidimensional beings and the power of love. Social utility and bonding, etc. Space Settlement O’Niell cylinders. Another call-in from Liam Ginty of Voices From L5. Flatland & The Fourth Dimension by Carl Sagan: YouTube The Science of Interstellar w/ Kip Thorne: YouTube Support the show!

Je me souviens by Su J. Sokol There are nine police cars. I count them again just to be sure and because counting usually calms me. Arielle watches to see if I’m freaking out, asks if I want to leave. I tell her I’m OK but she's not reassured so I give her a sexy smile. If she would kiss me now, I’d have somewhere pleasant to channel my beating heart. She leans towards me and I see that she’s used her superpowers to read my mind again, but then another police car arrives, drawing her attention away. Now ten police cars face two hundred and thirty-six demonstrators. We are peaceful, banging pots and chanting slogans. Our numbers include children, old people, commuters on bikes, dogs wearing red bandanas. A cop is speaking through a bullhorn but no one can hear him because of the clanging and chanting. Will they arrest us now? My heart beats like the wings of a falcon, trying to escape the prison of my chest. Full transcript after the cut. Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip episode 23 for March 1, 2016. I'm your host, Keffy, and I'm super excited to be sharing this story with you. I'm extending the period for responses to the GlitterShip listener favorites poll until March 5th. You can find a link in the transcript for this episode at GlitterShip.com GlitterShip Poll Our story today is "Je me souviens" by Su J. Sokol. Su is an activist, a cyclist, and a writer of interstitial fiction. A former legal services lawyer from New York City, Sokol immigrated to Montréal in 2004 where she works as a social rights advocate. Her short stories have been published in The Future Fire and Spark: A Creative Anthology. Her debut novel, Cycling to Asylum, was long-listed for the 2015 Sunburst Award for Excellence in Canadian Literature of the Fantastic. "Je me souviens" was first published in 2012 by the Future Fire and was recently republished in TFFX, the The Future Fire's tenth anniversary anthology. Our guest reader today is Leigh Wallace. Leigh is a Canadian writer, artist and public servant. You can find her latest story in Tesseracts 19: Superhero Universe and her art at leighfive.deviantart.com I've also been asked for trigger warnings in the past. This story does contain references to police violence and anti-gay torture. Je me souviens by Su J. Sokol There are nine police cars. I count them again just to be sure and because counting usually calms me. Arielle watches to see if I’m freaking out, asks if I want to leave. I tell her I’m OK but she's not reassured so I give her a sexy smile. If she would kiss me now, I’d have somewhere pleasant to channel my beating heart. She leans towards me and I see that she’s used her superpowers to read my mind again, but then another police car arrives, drawing her attention away. Now ten police cars face two hundred and thirty-six demonstrators. We are peaceful, banging pots and chanting slogans. Our numbers include children, old people, commuters on bikes, dogs wearing red bandanas. A cop is speaking through a bullhorn but no one can hear him because of the clanging and chanting. Will they arrest us now? My heart beats like the wings of a falcon, trying to escape the prison of my chest. I tell myself that this is Québec. They will not put a black bag over my head. They will not throw me in the trunk of one of their cars. They will not burn me with cigarettes after beating me. No, this doesn’t happen here ... I am pretty sure. They have granted me permanent residence and have even hired me to teach their children math. So I will stay here and demonstrate for my students. The police open the trunks of their vans. I’m concentrating on my breathing, on not blanking out, when a little ball of energy in a red cape flies into my legs. “La policía, they are here to catch the bad guys, Papa?” he asks me, his speech the usual jumble of French, Spanish and English. Before I can speak, Arielle answers. “No, mon petit chéri, this is not why they’re here today.” Her face is an eloquent mix of amusement and sadness. “I will catch them, then! But first Papa must fly me home so I can eat my supper.” “C’est correct? Can we go home now?” Arielle asks me. I shrug, hiding my relief, and lift Raphaël high over my head. I run full out towards our home, fast enough so that his cape flies out behind him and fast enough that my own need to run is satisfied. Our four-year-old superhero has come to the rescue. The next morning, despite a sleep fragmented by nightmares, I’m energized, thinking about being a part of something important again. This was not my first demonstration in my new home, but the first of this kind—spontaneous, focused, a little confrontational. And joyous. Even more so than the mass manifestation when our numbers first surpassed 250,000. That day, I stood at the overpass by rue Berri, Raphaël on my shoulders, watching the street below swell with a current of demonstrators wide as the Rio Grande. I’m good at counting, my eyes instinctively grouping people into hundreds, thousands, tens and hundreds of thousands. Surely they must listen now, I thought. Surely they will see the beauty, the rightness of our cause! Our euphoria was short-lived as we watched the news and listened to the lies about our goals, our numbers. Last night, with our pots, with our “casseroles”, we banged out our anger and turned it into music. I am proud, too, that les casseroles, “los caserolazos”, are borrowed from the political traditions of my own people. Now, standing at the front of my high school math class, I feel strong, in control. Numbers—they do not lie to you; they do not let you down. I explain the first problem, my eyes scanning the classroom, counting students. Someone is missing. When I’m presenting the second problem, Xavier stumbles in, limping slightly and with his left eye blackened. I don’t ask him for his late pass nor for his homework. I even let him read whatever it is he’s awkwardly hidden behind his math textbook. A large oval bruise on his upper arm is already aging, turning from black to green. As I answer a student’s question, my mind goes through a familiar set of choices:  the police, youth protection, the directrice of the school ... When the authorities were called in last time, it did not end well: denials and threats of legal action by his politically connected family, followed by unexplained absences. I ask Xavier to remain after class is over. He approaches my desk, giving me a sullen look from under his long hair. There seems little point in asking him what happened, so instead, I ask him what he’s reading. He hesitates, then shrugs and places it in my hand. “C’est une bande-dessinée. A ‘Comic book’ in English.” “I am not anglophone,” I say. “Yeah, but you’re not from here, are you?” He says this like I might be from Mars or some other planet. “Why do the people in the bande-dessinée have the heads of animals?” I ask. “Are they superheroes, these animal-headed people?” “I’m not ten years old. I don’t believe in superheroes.” “I would like to help you, Xavi.” “I don’t need anyone’s help. And I can’t stay. There’s a student union meeting. To vote on the strike.” Enthusiasm has replaced his precocious cynicism. But then I watch him limp away, a sense of helplessness making my own limbs feel heavy. The end of the day finds me in the teachers’ lounge. Luc joins me, compositions from his students clutched in his big hands. I gaze up at my best friend and he quickly drops down beside me. “Qu’est-ce que tu as?” he asks, reading me as always. “Xavier came into class today all beaten up. I don’t know what I should do.” “If you suspect something ...” “It is beyond suspecting. I know what’s happening and it’s not just beatings.” “Are you sure of this?” he asks. I simply look at him. He knows about my past. Not just the torture but the rapes as well. Luc was able to get this information out of me even when the tribunal could not. “Don’t worry, Gabriel, I have friends at youth protection. We’ll find a way to help him.” I feel a little reassured. I move closer, so that I can lean against him. He lets me, even puts his arm around my shoulder. Some of the darkness leaks out of me. If Arielle were here, she would be happy, seeing how I can still take comfort from other men. She was my lawyer at the refugee hearing and accepts me as I am. She tried to prepare me for their questions, but I failed her. On such and such a date, they asked me, had I been tortured for my political crimes or for the crime of being queer? It seemed important to be precise about this, but I was confused. Maybe I was tortured for the former and raped for the latter. The fear of disappointing the officials, of making them angry, made my words flee. Perhaps that’s why, in the middle of the hearing, I blanked out. “I should go home,” I say to Luc. “To cook supper. Arielle is counting on me.” “How is Arielle?” “She is good. We had very hot sex last night. Do you want to hear about it?” I feel happy thinking about this while leaning against Luc’s shoulder. It was when Arielle and I made love for the first time, on the floor of her office, that I realized she had superpowers. I hadn’t been sure before, even though she’d rescued me from the hearing. Arielle might even have won my case, but instead, she found a way to spare me the pain of testifying. She offered to marry me, explaining it in logical, lawyerly terms. She’d just gone through another in a series of unreliable roommates and untrustworthy boyfriends. She wanted someone who shared her political values to also share, on a longterm basis, the household expenses and cooking. And one other thing. She wanted a child. Luc tells me maybe another time, after a few beers. “Will we go somewhere that has ‘Maudite’ beer?” I ask him. “I like the picture on the label, of the flying canoe, la chasse galerie.” “Speaking of which, I have that book for Raphaël. Of old Québecois tales, including a few chasse galerie stories.” He hands me a large volume, the edges soft with use. “It’s beautiful,” I say, running my fingers along the expensive binding. “My parents gave me this collection. Keep it as long as you need it.” “Merci beaucoup mon cher ami,” I say, kissing him on both cheeks and then once on the lips for good measure. He accepts my shows of affection with his usual aplomb. That night, I tell Raphaël my own version of a chasse galerie story. “Once upon a time, men were chopping down trees deep in the winter forest. They were sad because they missed their children and partners.” “Where were they, Papa?” “In another forest ... planting trees to replace those that had been cut down. So one day, the men boarded a magic canoe to visit their loved ones.” “Were they superheroes?” “Claro que si. They could mix their powers together into one big superpower. That’s how they made the canoe fly. But there was a super villain too, and he ... he sprinkled forgetting dust into their eyes so that they could not remember who they were, and their canoe started falling down to the earth.” “Oh no! What happened?” “Flying Boy came to the rescue. He brought the boat down safely and used a magical washcloth to wipe the forgetting dust out of the men’s eyes.” “Was Flying Boy wearing his red cape?” “Yes. And now it’s time for superheroes to go to sleep.” “Papa? Why did the super villain make the men forget things? Why is he bad?” “I don’t know. Maybe a bad thing happened to him, something he needed to forget. Good night Flying Boy.” “Good night, Papa.” I tuck him into bed, trying to ignore a growing darkness. I make myself think of the night Rapha was born. The moment I held him, I knew he’d been gifted with strong powers and that it was my job to protect him until he was old enough to use them safely. This responsibility is what has kept me from ending my own worthless life. Arielle is watching the nightly update about the strike. There’s a late-breaking development about a student who’s in critical condition after a cop's plastic bullet struck her in the eye. I pull Arielle onto my lap and hide my face in her curls while counting to myself. Maybe Arielle will use her powers tonight to make me forget things that strike and burn and tear into tender flesh. On Facebook, I learn that this week has been declared “une semaine de résistance” for secondary school students. Our school votes to go on strike, but staff must report to work as usual. I stay in the teachers’ lounge, not wanting to be alone, but I’m restless, so I go down the hall and stand at the entrance. At nine o’clock, the police arrive in full riot gear and declare the students’ picket illegal. They open their trunks and pull out shiny yellow vests and canisters of malevolent substances. I walk back into the teachers’ lounge.  “We should be out there,” I say to the others. A debate ensues but many teachers are missing, still in their classrooms. “I’ll get them,” Luc volunteers. He turns to me. “Stay here until I get back.” I wait for a while, then go to the front entrance again and see the beginnings of trouble between a group of students and the riot cops. Just then, Luc appears. “Venez dehors! Nos étudiants se font embêter!” he shouts to the others. I run outside and Luc catches up to me, his hand closing around my upper arm. I pull him with me as I throw myself between the students and the riot police. We’re shoved but keep to our feet and Luc is saying “Calmez-vous, calmez-vous,” making eye contact with each of the cops in front of us, patiently explaining that we are teachers, a French teacher and a Mathematics teacher, and that we must all remain calm to set a good example. After a few tense moments, more teachers come outside. We join hands, forming a barrier between the students and the police. The students chant slogans like “Education is a right” and “À qui nos écoles? À nous nos écoles”. Luc pulls L’Étranger from his back pocket and begins reciting from it. I spot Xavier, a courageous smile on his face. By the end of the morning, almost all of my colleagues have joined us and the police have retreated to their cars. I grip Luc’s hand tighter and think about kissing every single teacher standing with us. With these heroes beside me, I feel invincible. The next night I have a beer with Luc at a café on rue St. Denis. I finish five ‘Maudites’ and am feeling a nice buzz from that. I told Arielle I’d eat something with Luc. I can’t lie to her so I steal a handful of his fries. He offers me his burger but I shake my head, too keyed up to eat much. “Shouldn’t we be going?” I ask. “The manif is scheduled to begin at 21 hours.” “It’s not like the theatre, my friend. We don’t have to be there when the curtain rises. You sure this is alright with Arielle? There’s more risk being arrested at night.” “I have promised to be careful.” At Parc Émilie-Gamelin, I’m in my element. It’s hot for late September. A thick darkness envelops me. There’s an aura of unpredictability that I appreciate because deep down, I’m an optimist who believes that whatever happens next has got to be better than what we already have. My lips move to the chants. An anarchist marching band playing circus music draws me in deeper, to where the park is filled with magic. Luc introduces me to people he knows. After a while, I wander off as he gets into conversation with one of his ex-girlfriends. There’s a group of men wearing dark clothing on the fringes of the manif. They’re rowdy and loud and exude a dangerous energy. I’m drawn to them. I also want to run from them. I find myself a couple of metres closer to the group, though I don’t remember deciding to approach them. In fact, I remember deciding the opposite. My feet are taking more steps in their direction and I can’t make myself stop. The men are carrying something in their hands. Their eyes flash yellow in the darkness. I’m terrified and mesmerized as I come closer still. One raises his arm with a look of gleeful malice. Someone grabs my shirt from behind. “Câlisse de tabarnak,” Luc shouts. “Can’t I turn my back on you for a minute?” My collar is bunched up in his fist as he guides me, not gently, out of the park. “Who are those guys?” I ask. “They looked like skinheads with hair.” “Agents provocateurs or just assholes. What difference does it make? You know to stay away from them.” “They have evil powers. I couldn’t pull away.” “You’ve had too many beers. It’s time to go home.” I leave with him, but I know I’ll be back. I’ve found another activity where it feels right that I’m still alive. I count through the list in my head: Taking care of Raphaël, teaching my students, making love, going to manifs. I’ll just have to be careful to avoid the super villains. If our collective actions succeed, it may even give me back some of the life force stolen from me when I was a teenager. Arielle and I are watching the news. She’s become a news junkie in the same way that I’ve become a junkie for demonstrations. “Our government makes me ashamed to be Québécoise,” Arielle says. “The real Québec is in the streets, marching and chanting and demonstrating. Come out with me more. You would feel better,” I tell her. She touches my cheek. “You reassuring me. It should be the other way around.” Of course the police violence and new repressive laws frighten me. But conditions in Québec, politically and socially, are still better than in the country where I was born. It’s for this very reason that whenever things become worse here, I feel nauseous, like the world is spinning in the wrong direction. “Let’s go together to the nude manif tomorrow. It will be fun. I can put fleur-de-lys pasties on your nipples.” She smiles and I know I’ve convinced her. The next day, Arielle calls me at school to say that they’re concerned about Raphaël at the garderie. He’s telling everyone that he’s a superhero and trying to fly off tables and playground equipment. They’ve asked for a meeting. “I can go, Arielle.” “They’ve asked that I come, specifically.” “That is sexism.” “No, it’s more that...” “What?” “It’s because of what you told Raphaël, last time this happened. That he needed to wait until he was older to use his superpowers. And to only use them when they’re needed.” “Are you angry with me?” “No, not angry but ... We’ll talk more later. Are you still going to the manif?” “Yes.” “There’s usually less police violence at the nude ones. You’ll be careful?” “Of course. I love you.” Without Arielle and Raphaël, the apartment feels a little sinister. It’s better in Raphaël ’s room where I can sense him in his toys and artwork. I hold on to one of his superhero figures and draw strength from that. Next, I enter our bedroom. I wrap my arms around Arielle’s pillow and breathe in her familiar odour. Feeling stronger, I go to the shelf in the back of my closet and find the box that I haven’t opened since my uncle smuggled me out of my country. I take out the red cape, red feathered mask and calf-high red boots. The cape against my nose, I smell the streets of my childhood and adolescence. My mother sewed this costume, but she did not bring me up to believe in superheroes. My parents were university professors. Both were politically active, proud of my work for the student newspaper and tolerant of my sexuality. Their openness and support encouraged me to finally tell what my uncle did to me. No, my parents did not believe in superheroes. Nor did they believe in super villains. Just because you don’t believe in something doesn’t mean it can’t kill you. They never should have gone to the police. My uncle was too powerful. Their so-called car accident left me without protection, with thoughts of vengeance like cold ashes in my mouth. I hold the costume in my hands, remembering when I wore it so proudly. It was after “los casserolazos”, after the occupation, and after the kiss-in, but the taste of my classmates’ lips was still fresh in my memory. The superhero demonstration was the last one before I was taken. Like me, only parts of the costume survived, but maybe some traces of the powers that were stolen from me remain in the material. I shove it into a bag and head for my bike.           I’m marching down rue Ste-Catherine wearing my cape, my boots, my mask and nothing else. The breeze feels good on my bare skin. My boots protect my feet and my mask protects my identity. It’s almost like having the power of invisibility. Everyone is friendly, many people talk to me. Some take my picture. I know I’m good looking but I take no pride in this. I did nothing to earn my looks, yet, it’s something I’ve had to pay for, repeatedly. “Excuse me,” I say to the person who’s chatting with me.“I have to stop here.” On the side street under a circus canopy stands a man wearing a red kerchief who has the dark eyes and quirked smile of my country of birth. He’s holding a six-inch tall toy polar bear banging a miniature pot with a tiny, perfectly formed wooden spoon. The bear is wearing the flag of Québec as a cape. “How much, monsieur?” I ask. “Just take it, hermano.” “I couldn’t.” “Yes. It is for your child. Take it.” I hold the bear, sensing in its erect posture and soft gaze a power to protect. I look up to thank the man, wondering how he knows about Rapha, but he’s gone. At home, I give Rapha his gift. I let him turn it on so that he can hear the pot banging, a sweet, high pitched clang clang ... clangclangclang. I tell him to keep it safe because of its magic, then kiss him goodnight. That evening, on Facebook, I see the first photo of myself at the nude manif. In the next couple of days, more photos follow, including one where my back is to the camera as I look over my shoulder. I’m holding up the toy polar bear with its flag-of-Québec cape. My other fist is raised as well. This is the photo that goes viral. Wednesday, I arrive at school early and, uncharacteristically, so does Luc. He comes into my classroom with a copy of a popular glossy magazine in his hand. He slaps it onto my desk. “Please tell me this isn’t you.” I look at the cover photo—a close-up shot of me at the manif, fist in air, my more private parts artfully photo-shopped. It’s difficult to answer him, the power of his verbal request at odds with the truth. “He’s wearing a mask,” I finally answer. “You can’t tell, for sure, who he is.” “Je n'en reviens pas. You can’t be that stupid.” I hang my head thinking, ‘Yes I can.’ He hears my thoughts. “Écoute, you’re going to be called into the directrice’s office this afternoon. Don’t say anything. Let me handle it. D’accord?” At the meeting, Arielle is there too. They sit on either side of me, protecting me as they answer concerns about propriety, judgment, reputation, regulations. My head is pounding from the force of the words in the room. I try to count how many hours of sleep I’ve had this week. If I strung those hours together, would it be equivalent to one full night’s rest?  In the end, I’m told that I’ve gotten off lightly. I get to keep my job, without even a warning in my record. But I cannot come to work for ten days. The first day is without pay and those following are sick days for me to rest and “find my equilibrium”. I am not to give interviews. Still, the news is full of information about me—that I am a teacher with a four-year-old son, that I am a refugee which, strictly speaking, is not even true. But this is the excuse used for why my school is not identified, nor my name used. The real reason is that Arielle and Luc have created a shield of partial invisibility. Nevertheless, there are photos of me—far away, obscured, fully clothed. And quotes in support of the movement and against police violence, not attributed directly to me but said to be “summaries of my position” as communicated to “friends”. I learn that the fact that this message comes from a teacher who is also a political refugee and father has earned me, and the movement, “a great deal of new popular support.” Arielle tells me that this has earned me a lot of enemies too—principally, the government and the police—and insists that I lay low for a while. I try to do as Arielle says. For the first forty-eight hours, I actually do not leave my bed. Arielle suggests I start seeing my therapist more frequently. Luc comes by with offers of bike rides, soccer games, a film. The problem is that I am not teaching, not with my students. When Raphaël is at the garderie, I feel useless. Finally, I tell Arielle that I must go out. The next day, I participate in three separate demonstrations and a teach-in. Afterwards, I go to a public assemblée générale. The meeting is held in Parc Lafontaine where, just metres from us, a woman in black fishnet tights and stilettos is being taught to wield a whip by a huge bald man in leather. Every few minutes, I’m distracted by the sound of the whip cracking accompanied by a sharp burning pain on my back, but when I look around the assembly, no one else seems bothered. It occurs to me that I may be the only one who can perceive these two super villains. I leave and, biking very fast, attend four different “casserolazos” before heading to the night manif. When I return home, Arielle asks me what I’ve been up to. I tell her everything, which of course I must do. She insists that we both stay home the next day. It’s a good day. We make love, nap, drink red wine. I feed a little off her life force—I cannot help myself—but I don’t think it hurts her because she’s so strong. In the evening, I put Raphaël to bed while she listens to the news. She’s turned the volume low but I can tell there’s been a report of some super villainy. I know this by the staccato rhythm of the words, the erratic, fractured images. As I enter the living room, Arielle turns off the television. I walk towards it as though to a cooling corpse. “What happened?” She hesitates. “Some arrests, police violence. There were ... injuries.” I know that I’m to blame. I either caused it or ... or maybe if I had been there, I could have lured the evil towards me. “I’m going to the demonstration tomorrow,” I tell Arielle. “Gabriel—” I cut her off, steel myself against her power. “Please,” I say, putting my fingers on her lips. “Please,” I whisper again. She sighs. “Then I’m going too.” On the way to the demonstration the next morning, we drop Rapha off at his friend’s on avenue Mont Royal. He’s disappointed that he can’t come, but we tell him to watch for us, that the march will pass right by this street. After last night’s events, the mood at the manif is somber. The numbers of police and the way they are armed seem more a provocation than a way of keeping the peace. Nevertheless, the demonstrators remain positive. I march between Arielle and Luc in a bubble of safety. Something in the mood still doesn’t feel right, though. I’m glad that Rapha is safe at his friend’s home. It’s after crossing St. Laurent that I realize that super villains are threatening the demonstration. I can see them, just off to my right, but whenever I turn my head, they’re gone. Arielle asks me what’s wrong, so I mention my nervousness for the students. Luc thinks I mean our students and says that Xavier and other kids from our school might be marching with the youth contingent behind us. He offers to try to find them for me. Now there is only Arielle beside me. This is the moment when I must leave. I kiss her hard on the lips and make a run for it. I find them easily, instinctively, the evil calling out to me. I can taste the violence in the air as it draws me closer. Suddenly, I see Xavier and my panic mounts. Everything happens at once. An arm is raised. People are running. A canister bursts in the air. Riot police appear from nowhere, weapons already in hand. Arielle calls me from a distance, Luc’s head and shoulders appear above the crowd. The mass of humanity is rumbling and reforming. Xavier’s eyes meet my own. “Run!” I yell to him and his friends, and they do. The next instant, the first matraque cuts across my hip, taking my legs out from under me. My head hits the pavement. Everything goes dark. I remember. We were all standing under the night sky, a mass of students dancing in our superhero costumes. The evening was hot and full of motion, my arms tight around the shoulders of my two best friends. We sang and danced while we waited for the government to finally see that we were their children and that the things we fought for were good and right. I was almost too happy, too excited. Almost, I was a little bored. My two friends agreed to leave with me and we found our way to my old home. Someone had placed a new lock on the door I used to enter. I was seeking my parents’ ghosts, hoping they were watching over us, yet I did not heed this obvious warning from the dead. I smashed the window, my parents’ murder a shard in my heart. We were inside, kissing. I went from one set of lips to the other, my hand under the girl’s superhero skirt, the other rubbing the boy through his superhero tights. It was all very innocent—cuddles and caresses, seeking warmth in the ruins of my childhood home. I thought about returning to the demonstration, guilty about convincing my friends to follow me to this dark and sad place. This was the power I had—to make people love me, to make them see my love for them, to make them follow me, heedlessly. And still, It might have been alright, if I hadn’t taken off my costume. My eyes snap open. The cop’s face is snarling above me. “It’s you, the magazine star. Let them take your picture now,” he says, punctuating his words with a blow across the chest. I taste blood in the back of my throat. They arrived with their guns, pulling me from my friends. The beating began at once, the force of the blows seeming to flow from an exterior power. I fought back at first, scanning the street outside for help. When my uncle stepped forward from the darkness with a look of anticipation about to be satisfied, I stopped fighting. “Run!” I yelled to my friends. And they did. I don’t want to fight back this time. But my body doesn’t listen. It’s trying to stand. The next blow takes me and I’m down again, the pain exploding behind my eyes. I look up, hoping they’ll finish me off quickly. It’s then that I see Rapha leaning over his friend’s balcony, the little bear clanging away in alarm, my son’s mouth a big “O”. Pain. The stench of death and decay. In the prison, my only comfort was that my friends were not also taken. I balanced this against my agony. Snatches of sleep are brief, dreams of warm lips and smooth limbs. I began to imagine that I could see my friends flying over the prison in their costumes, planning to save me. I waited for rescue as minutes/hours/days became lifetimes endured. My uncle always came after the pain, speaking to me of loyalty to government and family and God, his hands on my body, gentle as a poisonous eel. I could no longer hear my own cries, could no longer fight. They’d stolen my life force and I was fading. I finally realized that my friends’ superhero powers must have been stolen as well. That this is why they never came for me. Raphaël has climbed over the balcony railing. With horror, I realize that he’s seen me. I sense Arielle’s presence coming nearer, Luc’s as well. My death is coming too, but not soon enough. I will still be alive to see my child jump from the balcony. “Rapha!” I cry as he becomes airborne, his cape flying out behind him. The police baton is raised again. I close my eyes and wait for it. I’m flying through the air, holding on to Raphaël. We’re moving very fast above the streets of Montréal. Am I dead yet? I don’t want Rapha to be in a place of the dead. “No,” I moan and realize that, after all these years, I can hear my cries of pain again. “Shh,” a familiar voice says. “Ça va aller. I’ve got you.” Luc’s face is above mine, his arms carrying me swiftly through the streets, the crowd opening before him. If I could, I’d ask him to care for Raphaël in my place. My hand rests against Luc’s chest, his shirt wet and sticky with my blood. I try to touch his lips with my fingers so he can read my mind, but my fingers reach only his chin, slipping  down again on its rough wetness. My hand drops to my own mouth. I taste salt, feel Luc’s chest heave with his sobs, with the strain of carrying me and running. I press my hand against his heart and he runs faster. In the ambulance, Arielle holds my hand. Her voice cradles me. “Lâche pas, Gabriel. Lâche pas.” Hope hurts more than giving up, though, and I don’t think I can take any more pain. Then she puts my hand on her cheek and I feel her tears. I absorb the salt through the tips of my fingers and hold on a little longer. Awareness slips in between longer periods of confusion. I see the friends from my student days beckoning me to dance with them. I see them pass the missing pieces of my costume to Arielle and Luc who hold fast with their powers of reason and strength, of goodness and loyalty. Above them all is my precious Rapha, flying and free. I remember now how he jumped from the balcony, landing squarely on the policeman’s back, how he passed his red felt square across the cop’s eyes, and how the man backed away from me in shock, as though only now seeing what he had done. I wake and wake again. Luc or Arielle are always beside me holding tightly to my hand. When I ask for Rapha, I am told not to worry, that he's fine. I sleep and heal. On a day when my head is clear, I open my eyes to Arielle sitting beside my hospital bed with Rapha on her lap. He clutches a newspaper, on the front page, a photo of his exploit, his red cape flying out behind him. The headlines reads:  Boy superhero leaps to the rescue. Negotiations resume, student leaders hopeful. “What happened?” I ask. “It’s a long story,” Arielle says. “What did you think you were doing?” “My students were in danger. I saw Xavier, told him to run.” “Well he ran and found Luc, which probably saved your life.” “Papa,” Raphaël whispers. “Maman made me promise not to fly anymore until I am grown up. I said d’accord but only if you come back to life.” “Well I have, so you must do as you have promised.” “I also promised not to tell any more newspaper people about how I can fly. And about the magic forgetting dust.” “Forgetting dust?” I ask. “Yes. Like you told me. I used the red square to wipe it from the policeman’s eyes. And I said the magic words.” “What words, Rapha?” “Je me souviens.” END Dedicated to student and teacher superheroes everywhere. "Je me souviens" was originally published in The Future Fire in 2012. This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library. Thanks for listening, and I'll be back on the IDES OF MARCH with "Lamia Victoriana" by Tansy Rayner Roberts.

Hosts Seth and Doug turn to their intrepid listeners for topics of discussion on this emergency edition of Rip It! Fueled by an abnormally busy week of audience interaction, and the equally important realization that their listeners are as interested in discussing dumb things as they are, Seth and Doug cover topics as varied as Tesseracts and Wooly Rhinoceroses. Seth also digs deep into Doug's week, revealing a botched trip to the UPS store, and the surprising origins of a sinister phone call.

Drew and Keiran talk about photographing the night sky, traveling through said night sky, and the quiet beauty and utter loneliness of going to the movies by yourself.

Ed reviews The Invisible Library by Genevieve Cogman. Del talks about The Girl with All The Gifts by Mike Carey. Our guest interview is Royd Tolkien. All recordings are issued under official license from Fab Radio International. The Bookworm is a Truly Outrageous Production.

IntroductionRichard Saunders0:05:00 A chat with Marit Simonsen and Kristin Carlsson in Oslo.Walking in the snow or visiting skeptics in the pub, Oslo has something for everyone!0:13:45     The little dog that could!An update with Ian Bryce on the operation to restore sight to a blind dog... thank you science!0:29:20     A Week in Science with Dr Paul WillisThe Royal Institution of Australia (RiAus) is a national scientific not-for-profit organisation with a mission to ‘bring science to people and people to science’.0:35:40     Maynard's Spooky ActionHe's back in Sydney Skeptics in the Pub to ask the BIG question. Should you tell kids about the Easter Bunny?0:56:05     "Tesseracts" by Neal A. Yeager

Howdy from TheHamCast everyone! In this episode Ryan gets all excited about tesseracts and all of it's tesseract goodness, our special guest, Joel, explains what tesseracts are all about, and Zack sings Avril Lavigne; all the while Geoff sits back and watches. Enjoy! If you have any suggestions for topics, or the podcast in general, send us an email at thehamcast@gmail.com. Even if it's hate, we appreciate it.