Here’s the first of three installments of the podcast of my story The Super-Man and the Bugout, a superhero story that asks what would have happened if Kal-el had landed in suburban Toronto and been raised by an old Jewish couple. It’s the conclusion of the triad of stories comprised by Shadow of the Mothaship and Home Again, Home Again, about the Canadian response to the invasion of benevolent Scientologist aliens.
All About:
Podcast
My Podcast is a regular feed in which I read from one of my stories for a few minutes at least once a week, from whatever friend’s house, airport, hotel, conference, treaty negotiation or what-have-you that I’m currently at. Here’s the podcast feed.
Here’s part three of the podcast of my story Home Again, Home Again, a sequel (of sorts) to Shadow of the Mothaship — also published in my collection A Place So Foreign and Eight More. This one is the autobiography of a child raised in an alien-imposed mental institution, and the mentorship he received from The Guy Who Thought He Was Nikola Tesla.
Here’s part two of the podcast of my story Home Again, Home Again, a sequel (of sorts) to Shadow of the Mothaship — also published in my collection A Place So Foreign and Eight More. This one is the autobiography of a child raised in an alien-imposed mental institution, and the mentorship he received from The Guy Who Thought He Was Nikola Tesla.
Part Two MP3
Here’s part one of the podcast of my story Home Again, Home Again, a sequel (of sorts) to Shadow of the Mothaship — also published in my collection A Place So Foreign and Eight More. This one is the autobiography of a child raised in an alien-imposed mental institution, and the mentorship he received from The Guy Who Thought He Was Nikola Tesla.
Part three — the conclusion — of my podcast of my story Shadow of the Mothaship initially published in Amazing Stories magazine, Winter 2000, reprinted in A Place So Foreign and Eight More, Four Walls Eight Windows Press 2003. A strange, stylised Scientology/Alien-Invasion/Oedipus story.
Part two of my podcast of my story Shadow of the Mothaship initially published in Amazing Stories magazine, Winter 2000, reprinted in A Place So Foreign and Eight More, Four Walls Eight Windows Press 2003. A strange, stylised Scientology/Alien-Invasion/Oedipus story.
Part one of the podcast of Cory Doctorow’s story “Shadow of the Mothaship,” initially published in Amazing Stories magazine, Winter 2000, reprinted in A Place So Foreign and Eight More, Four Walls Eight Windows Press 2003. A strange, stylised Scientology/Alien-Invasion/Oedipus story.
Here’s part three of my podcast of Nimby and the D-Hoppers, a story that was originally published in Asimov’s in 2003 and reprinted in a Year’s Best, then translated into Russian, Chinese, French and Hebrew. Nimby is the story of a deep-green alternate future that is being invaded by gun-totin’ yahoos from alternate planes of reality.
Here’s part two of my podcast of Nimby and the D-Hoppers, a story that was originally published in Asimov’s in 2003 and reprinted in a Year’s Best, then translated into Russian, Chinese, French and Hebrew. Nimby is the story of a deep-green alternate future that is being invaded by gun-totin’ yahoos from alternate planes of reality.
Here’s part one of my podcast of Nimby and the D-Hoppers, a story that was originally published in Asimov’s in 2003 and reprinted in a Year’s Best, then translated into Russian, Chinese and French. Nimby is the story of a deep-green alternate future that is being invaded by gun-totin’ yahoos from alternate planes of reality:
Don’t get me wrong — I _like_ unspoiled wilderness. I _like_ my sky clear and blue and my city free of the thunder of cars and jackhammers. I’m no technocrat. But goddamit, who wouldn’t want a fully automatic, laser-guided, armor-piercing, self-replenishing personal sidearm?
Nice turn of phrase, huh? I finally memorized it one night, from one of the hoppers, as he stood in my bedroom, pointing his hand-cannon at another hopper, enumerating its many charms: “This is a laser-guided blah blah blah. Throw down your arms and lace your fingers behind your head, blah blah blah.” I’d heard the same dialog nearly every day that month, whenever the dimension-hoppers catapaulted into my home, shot it up, smashed my window, dived into the street, and chased one another through my poor little shtetl, wreaking havoc, maiming bystanders, and then gateing out to another poor dimension to carry on there.
